Page 36 of The Longshot

C H E L S I E

Monday to Friday.

It’s what stands between you and those glorious two days called Saturday and Sunday.

I’d never been one to live for the weekend—but now, it’s what I think motivates me to get up each morning.

My weekdays at the bakery are quite routine, simplistic, and mundane. But frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

There's a sense of joy when you master a skill. ‘Master’ being a generous word, given that I’ll never be as talented as Ruby. But nonetheless, at the bakery, I know exactly what I’m doing. Exactly what I’m signing myself up for, and most importantly, I know that nothing out-of-the-ordinary is going to happen… or so I thought.

This week has proved to me that when in Crawley—always expect the unexpected…

“Hey, Chels?” I hear Ruby call out my name as I manage the commercial-grade mixer in the back, fiddling with the controls. “Chelsie? Can you hear me?”

I attempt to wipe the abundance of flour from my hands alongside my apron, yet it’s no use. I’m covered in it. I’ve inhaled more flour today than I have oxygen.

With clean hands, I eventually turn off the mixer, hopeful that blocking out the noise will help to amplify my voice. “Yeah?” I call back. “Is everything okay?”

“Do you uh…” There’s a sense of giddiness in her tone. “Mind coming up front for a minute. Please?”

I process her request. Didn’t she just ask me to get started on a fresh batch of tea biscuits? I shake away the thought, curiosity getting the best of me as I bound my way around the corner and out of the kitchen.

“What’s up?” I walk towards the display counter, only halting in place when I see the last person I expected to see standing just ahead.

Gary.

“There you are.” Ruby follows Gary’s gaze, one that locks into me the second I walk out of the kitchen.

She smiles—or so I assume. I can’t break my eyes away from him, either.

He looks good.

Terribly good.

How does he look so good?

“Someone came by to see you,” she explains. “Isn’t that nice?”

I’m left not unsettled but rather disheveled by her revelation. As I stare into Gary’s devilishly deep gaze, my mind can’t help but electrify with questions—all of which start with the word “Why?”

Why is he here?

Why does he want to see me?

Why… me? Period.

“Hey, Chelsie.” Gary beats me to a hello—his lips parted ever so slightly as I watch him scan my body up and down. I can’t fault him for the action, I’m doing the exact same thing to him. But hell, my stare hardly has the same effect.

I gulp.

No one should possess the right to make you feel so bothered by just a single glance.

No one.

“She can be a bit shy at times,” Ruby quickly responds on my behalf, prompting some heat to flood my cheeks as I narrow my stare.

“I’m not shy,” I argue, peering back over at Gary. “I’m just…”

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