Page 47 of Zeke

“What do you want?” I ask.

“What do I want?” he replies.

Just say it!I want to scream at him.Say you want me.

But he doesn’t, and then Julia walks back in, and the moment is over.

I’m disappointed, but I know it’s for the best. I don’t need to give him false hope. I already know he’s lost. So when Julia gives me a sly thumbs up as Eli leaves, it is hard for me to return the gesture. She thinks I am being smart by taking my time deciding, saying that it is their business if they want to fight over me. I see her point. They could have agreed to not fight over me and come to a decision about which one would pursue me, but if that had happened, I might not have come to my decision.

I don’t know if it’s the fact he has been here more, or if it’s because he was always going to be my choice, but Zeke is all I can think about. It took all my willpower to not look disappointed when Eli had walked in earlier instead of his brother. I am head-over-heels for Zeke, mind, body, and soul. While I’m having fun playing the game, the time is coming close when I’ll have to tell them who I’ve chosen. The very idea makes my stomach churn. I don’t want to have to be the one to hurt either of them. The knowledge that I’ll be breaking Eli’s heart makes me want to never officially choose.

The rest of the day at the bakery goes by pretty much as normal. There is the usual lunchtime rush of people coming in for Julia’s chicken salad croissants and dessert pastries. During the downtime, my dad comes out of the kitchen with his phone in his hand to ask me if he is using hashtags right.

“No, Dad,” I tell him at one point. “You don’t put spaces in a hashtag. You make it one word.” I show him as I say, “Hashtag LaGrangeBakery, hashtag jellydonuts. You get the idea.”

He nods but still looks confused as he returns to the kitchen to shut down the machines since it’s close to the end of the day and he won’t be making any more pastries. He leaves before me since he lives in a house across town and I live upstairs. It makes sense for me to be the one to lock up. He finishes up what with work, then stops on his way out to ask me one more question about Instagram.

“And Eli said I can tap you in the picture?” he asks.

“Tag,” I tell him. “It’s called tagging. And yes, let me show you how.” Once I’ve tagged myself in every single picture the bakery Instagram has posted on its page, as per Dad’s request, he smiles and hugs me goodbye.

Julia also heads home right before we close for the night when Country comes to pick her up.

“Hey,” he says as he walks in to get her.

“Hey,” she replies, a blush coming over her face. She’s so tough most of the time. When she gets girly around him, it almost makes me laugh, but I manage to hold it in because I don’t want to embarrass her.

“You, uh…” he says, hands in his pockets like he’s feeling shy. “You ready to go?”

“Let me get my stuff.” She scurries to the kitchen to take off her apron and grab her bag. She reemerges and looks at me. “You sure you don’t need any more help?”

“Nah,” I say, watching relief come over Country’s face. He really does like her, and it’s obvious their rides home together are important to him. “I can handle it from here. Not like I’m gonna be open after you walk out.”

She nods and waves at me as she leaves, and Country gives me a little bow of his head as he follows her out. I lock the door behind them. Once I hear their bikes roar to life and know they can’t hear me, I laugh a little, then sigh. The dance they’re doing, thewill they?orwon’t they?thing is like what Zeke and I are still doing, mostly because I’m not ready to say that I choose him. Part of it is not wanting to hurt Eli, but there’s a part of me that loves the chase. I’ve never been wanted by two guys so intent on me choosing them that they’d be willing to go to war over me before. I can’t deny the thrill in that.

I finish cleaning up and put the leftover pastries in boxes. Tomorrow morning, they’ll get taken to the local school and used for a breakfast fundraiser for the senior class to pay for their prom. I made sure Dad implemented that when I was in school, and it’s been a tradition ever since—one I’m proud to help out with.

I stand at the counter for a moment before I shut off the lights, remembering the feeling of Eli’s hands on me, knowing I won’t be able to enjoy it for much longer. The memory of Zeke touching me is electric in a way I have never experienced before. He makes me feel alive, a phrase that held no meaning for me until yesterday, when he pulled me into the hallway and kissed me, sealing his place in my heart and his claim on my body.

With a sigh, I flick off the lights and leave, locking the door behind me before walking around the outside of the building to the staircase leading up to my apartment. I’m about halfway up when I see another box identical to the one from a couple of weeks ago that held the flowers.

I realize I completely forgot to ask Zeke or Eli which one of them had sent me the flowers. Even now, I can’t figure out which one of them might be it. Is it Eli, who was definitely at the bakery today and had the opportunity to drop them off when he got here or left? Or is it Zeke, who has made no secret of his affection and could have dropped them off while I was interacting with Eli?

Excitedly, I bend down and pick up the box and take it inside. I put it down on my kitchen table, waiting to open it until I’ve had a shower. I clean off my body, scrubbing my hair to get the flour remnants out.

Working in food, there’s always a lingering smell that never seems to go away. I’m glad I work in a bakery and not in some kind of deep fry place. I love that I always smell slightly of vanilla. I can’t imagine if I smelled of frying oil all the time. I wonder if Eli and Zeke would be half as interested if I smelled like an old French fry instead of a cupcake.

On that note, I turn my attention to the flowers, excited to see what’s inside. I pull off the ribbon and open the box to find a dozen long-stemmed red roses. This time, there is a note.

Time for the mystery to finally be over.

My heart pounds as I open the folded piece of cardstock, ready to find out which boy has been sending me flowers.

Do Not Ignore Me

I drop the note onto the flowers, which I accidentally knock to the floor, my pulse racing so hard it hurts. I look around, convinced I’ll see someone standing behind me or at my window, despite being on the second floor.

This isn’t from Zeke or Eli.

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