I reached for one of the pistachio macarons as my answer. The colour was muted too, a brownish hue that looked a bit off. I brought it to my nose and took a gentle sniff, letting the subtle blend of almonds and pistachio wash over me, but it didn’t smell as it should. The unusual texture felt rough against my fingertips, hinting at how it would crumble when I bit into it.
I could tell it was going to fall apart.
She watched me with a hint of expectation before picking up a macaron for herself. Bringing it to her nose, she took a tentative sniff, her expression shifting as she caught the not-so-great scent.
Our eyes met briefly.
We took simultaneous bites, the crunch echoing in the kitchen as the macarons crumbled into a mess, pieces scattering to the floor and our hands. For a moment, silence hung between us. Gen stared at the bits on the ground while I looked at her, waiting for her reaction. When she finally burst into laughter, I couldn’t help but do the same.
“Okay, this is definitely not it.” I glanced over at Gen, and we both kept our mouths wide open, trying to avoid swallowing the awful taste. The texture was just wrong—too dry and gritty.
Gen pressed her hand to her mouth, struggling to keep the macaron inside. I rushed over and grasped her wrist. “Don’! Ush zis!” I said, snatching a paper towel from the counter. I held it up to her mouth, urging her to spit out the disaster while I did the same with my other hand.
“Gosh, I have flour everywhere.” She squinted, trying to focus on a strand of hair that had fallen down the centre of her face, a bit shorter than the rest, remnants from a year ago when she had bangs.
I opened one of the under-sink cupboards, retrieving the softest, cleanest hand towel within reach. Placing it beneath the tap, I waited patiently for the water to warm up before soaking a corner of the towel. After switching off the tap, I tightened my grip on the damp section to remove any excess water and walked over to Gen.
The room fell silent as our eyes met. I deliberately shifted my gaze away from her eyes. Concentrating on her face, I placed my left hand gently under her chin, while my other hand carefully patted a towel against her skin. I aimed to rid the flour without disturbing the layer of sunscreen and light makeup.
“Let me walk you home.” Her mouth opened just a smidgeon. She nodded, but no words or sounds emerged. I wanted us to spend a bit more time together, but that could wait until we both had showers because even though I hadn’t baked, I had flour even inside my pants and I didn’t even know how. “I think your hair is going to need more than just a wet towel.”
Despite my insistence that I could handle the kitchen clean-up myself, Gen was determined to help. The towel I’d intended for her stayed on the counter, untouched. My efforts to handle everything on my own were overlooked.
We eventually made our way to her place, just a few minutes along the same route where I had jogged this morning. Golden Sands, with its captivating beauty, made me question why so many people left in search of crowded cities and skyscrapers when all I longed for were these breathtaking sunsets.
Surprisingly, lost in my contemplations, I found myself standing before Gen’s blue front door without even realising the journey we had taken to arrive there.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” The tension seemed to ease from her shoulders at those words. “No, Gen. Why would I be mad at you?” She shrugged, looking down at her feet. My words felt inadequate, soI simply stepped closer, unsure of what else to say. Arms found their familiar position around her neck, and she instinctively concealed her face in my chest while I took a deep breath against her hair. “I was just stressed with the apprenticeship, okay?”And with us. Or you.
We stayed like that for a few minutes, her arms around my waist. She seemed lost in thought about something I wished I understood.
“You sure?”
I swallowed, this time aiming for a normal gulp instead of trying to dissolve the knot in my throat. “Yeah,” even my own ears didn’t find it credible. “You couldn’t do anything to make me mad.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced by my words, and just as I opened my mouth to reassure her again that everything was fine, my phone vibrated in my front pocket. I glanced at Gen, raising a finger to signal for her to hold on, and answered the call from Mrs. Marley.
As I greeted her, I could hear Mrs. Marley chatting with Mr. Marley about the daft phone that wouldn’t show my face. “It’s because you didn’t select the video call option, darling,” he explained with a hint of laughter in his voice. I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head at their banter, before calling out, “Mrs. Marley!”
“Ah! There you are,” she replied, quickly shifting gears to explain why she’d called. I adjusted my stance, murmuring a few hums of acknowledgement as she spoke. My gaze drifted toward Gen, who stood a little ways off, trying not to look like she was listening, but clearly waiting.
After hanging up and sliding my phone back into my pocket, I let out a sigh, a small laugh escaping me. Gen was watching, her head tilted to one side.
“Are you still up for one more adventure before showering?”
A smile blossomed on her face, and I blinked rapidly, as if my eyes were cameras trying to capture her perfectly in this moment. The sun was caressing her left side, bathing her in a blinding light that made everything feel almost unreal.
“Mrs. Marley needs help on the farm.” I gestured with my head for her to start walking, turning to make my way back home, eager to grab my bike so we could get there faster. “Help with…” I paused for dramatic effect, knowing how Gen would react. She was always up for a laugh, but I could already see the hint of dread in her eyes. “Help with Cooper.”
A laugh escaped me as I watched her face transform. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in exaggerated disbelief. “No way! Not Cooper!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her response. It was exactly what I had expected, and it made the whole idea of helping Mrs. Marley all the more entertaining, even if I had shivers whenever I thought ofthatpig.
Throughout the entire ride to the farm, Gen peppered me with questions about what Mrs. Marley needed help with. But, of course, I kept my lips sealed, convinced it would be more fun for her to find out when we arrived.
“What?!” Gen exclaimed as we pulled up to the farmhouse, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, mouth wide open, even bigger than her eyes and the disbelief swimming in them. She stared at Mrs. Marley, who turned to her with a wide smile, hands clasped together against her cheek, doing her best to look cute despite the situation. It was obvious she knew Gen was terrified of Cooper.