Page 47 of Cloud Storm

I have punished myself for the worst fantasies, depriving me of sugar, mainly.

Which has gone against my mood, but not my figure, thank God.

I had never imagined that a kiss could be like that, so hot, so exciting and also so revealing. It comforts me to think that he was in the same situation as me. He felt it, I’m completely sure.

For a moment I could see beyond his mask of arrogance, beyond what he has deigned to show the world.

At this point, I no longer know what opinion he has of me and what I think of him, much less.

I can hear the gears of your head working. Yes, you’ll be wondering why I waste time thinking about that idiot. The truth is that I don’t even have an answer for that. I am angry with myself, with him and with the whole world.

Poor Katie has to deal with me all day long. These days I am worse than The Red Queen and I am more than willing to have more than one of their heads cut off.

I’m whisking the contents in the bowl that I have in my hands, when Roselynn enters the kitchen dragging Oliver with her, wearing one of those horrendous Hawaiian shirts that he likes so much.

Something big is happening here.

I know my friends.

“I have the theme of the day,” Oliver announces as soon he’s in the kitchen. “And after that, we need to talk, because we want to make a big event around your participation on the show.”

More stress, just what I need.

“I swear you both are trying to kill me.” I give them the stink eye.

Roselynn is becoming dangerous, and with Oliver Nichols as her accomplice…

“Let’s go with the challenge first,” Roselynn intervenes, putting on the counter a brown paper bag.

Surprisingly, she only takes out a sugar skull and hands it to me.

“The competition is in October, and you know Halloween is the second favorite holiday for us Americans, so you have to deliver three Halloween themed cupcakes. You will be evaluated for taste, presentation, and also for originality. And your time starts now!”

I have to think about this carefully. But I don’t have the time. If I can’t make it in the privacy of my kitchen, doing it in the hockey stadium full of people would be mission impossible. With no Tom Cruise to come and rescue me.

Breathe, and breathe. This is like delivering a baby, so let’s do it one push at a time.

I have to make a pumpkin cupcake, that’s a fact. But I’ll make it different, it will be spiced and the frosting will have a base of mascarpone and cinnamon and compote of apples for the filling. For the second one, I’ll make a mean chocolate cupcake with a fun twist. It will be celebrating Frankenstein’s birthday, so it will have a cherry filling and for the decoration something green and funny.

The third one will be the Ghost cupcake, my very own version of the angel’s cake. A vanilla and pear cupcake, fluffy and light, like a cloud. Like a ghost.

I have no time for more failures.

As always, it’s easier to say it than make it. The damn apple compote burns and I have to start it again. As if there were a chain of unfortunate consequences, I grab a spoon from the stove to try the compote and burn my lower lip. Then we pour too much cinnamon on the mascarpone and the cupcakes don’t cool soon enough.

When Oliver and Roselynn start chanting the final countdown I almost freak out.

Decorations, please stay in place. Don’t fall off the dish. By some miracle, they seem to enjoy my creations as Roselynn rolls her eyes in rapture.

“Oh, my gosh, Ariel…” Roselynn moans. “This is so freaking good.”

“This is orgasmic,” Oliver adds. “You did a mean job, girl. I’m inviting myself to the next baking exercise.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“We need to make a themed day at the bakery, Ariel,” Roselynn is chirping, almost bouncing on her chair.

God, please no.

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