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Isabelle leans on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. After the first ballad, her feet ache, so she reclines on the luscious couch in the middle. No one can tell she's barefoot, thanks to the gown's design. If she were alone, she wouldn't be able to relax. Knowing he's nearby makes it bearable. She can fall asleep any minute now. The performance comes to an end and the host asks everyone to kindly be seated in an hour for the closing speech.
"Izzy, time to wake up now." He nudges her arm. Already? There should've been at least another ten minutes. Ah, what the hell. Might as well get this over with.
She sat in the middle on a plush couch in the middle of the stage as her mother spoke on behalf of her father. An absentee as always. What's new? Isabelle takes note of the guests, a sea of insincere smiles and, over-the-top attire. The large, heavily decorated ballroom is filled with white, gold and dark blue accents. There are crescent moons of all sizes hanging around on display, as well as some stars and a huge disco ball.
"I'd like to thank everyone for being present tonight to celebrate with me. I didn't expect things to turn out the way they did. But I like to believe all things happen for a reason, so I raise my glass. To my friends, for their support and care. For my family who molded me into the woman I am today." Isabelle smiles and puts down the mic. The ballroom erupts into applause. That long, four-paragraph speech mother wrote was a total bore to read. Doing her own thing is much more comfortable to do.
The flashing cameras pester her as reporters line up at the entrance. She pays them no mind as her friends approach, posing for pictures. Followed by her mother, aunts, uncles, and other relatives. Mother and Auntie will have to handle the media, she's in no mood tonight. The distaste she felt towards them earlier faded away. As the rest of the guests made their exit, she motions for him to come near.
"Yes, princess?" Tristan approaches. Seeing his face felt refreshing after dealing with her relatives and their plastic smiles. It's a shame Xingchen had to leave early. Oh well, she can arrange a photoshoot for them on another date.
"Princess? You haven't called me that since high school." She giggles. Each time he would, Jake would whack him, playfully of course. Tristan used to be so embarrassed and his neck would turn pink. It still does when he gets flustered, but he isn't as cute as before. Mom is probably waiting outside.
"I'm sorry about Jake." He said.
"Don't be." She takes a deep breath. They all talk as if he's dead. She knows he isn't! No point in apologizing for something out of their control. When they meet again, she'd give him a piece of her mind. Not that he'd listen, but she'd try anyway.
He accompanies her out, their arms linked with one another. He closes the door, making an exaggerated pose for the cameras. Isabelle laughs, waving goodbye. As the car drives off, her mother clears her throat. She raises her eyebrows, momentarily forgetting she was also in the car. It's just Tristan. What would she say about him now? She already knew he has a knack for trouble.
"He's quite the charmer."
"Like I'd ever find that attractive." Isabelle makes a face. It doesn't feel right. It's easy to imagine him still being part of their life. He'd either be that uncle that hands money to his children or show up half-drunk with a cheeky smile on his face. Oh wait, he already does those.
"I said that about your father, once."
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Isabelle places the bread on display with a smile on her face. She dances around the bakery, enjoying the morning radio. Customers pour in and the bakery got busy, but it doesn't dampen her mood at all.
"I'll be back in a bit." Her co-worker, Ian, dashes off, carrying a large box with a ribbon on top. She looks at the kitchen and saw empty boxes, which meant more deliveries. Wonderful! Madam Lucia will love this. After entertaining a couple of customers she packs assorted eclairs and a shortcake.
The backdoor flies open and she jumps, nearly dropping the box.
"Sorry, Iz!" Ian chirped. He set down a bag full of supplies and sat on a stool. The employee from the office a few blocks away dropped by again. He always gets enough food for two people, could he be an assistant? If she recalls correctly, his name is Cedric, from his ID card. He seems like a nice, mellow guy.
Ian ditches his usual gelled look and went with a full bedhead today. He could get a buzz cut and still look attractive. His bleached hair, brown skin, and lean physique brought a few customers in. Isabelle wouldn't admit it aloud, but during her first few days working she had the fattest crush on him. He's so helpful, kind, and totally nice.
Plus, he always smells so good.
Sometimes he treats her to ice cream and they play video games together when business is slow. He spends most of his time in the bakery, if not the gym. While she would've loved to go together, she isn't a fan of sweating. It is refreshing to alongside such a beautiful sweetheart who is too kind for his own good. If only he hadn't set his heart on someone else, she'd shoot her shot! She got over her shallow crush and replaced it with a nurtured friendship. Now, she looks at him in admiration as her senior. Sometimes, he'd send her texts that he just took a huge dump and she responded the same.
What would she do here without him?
The smell of cocoa powder brings her back to the present.
"About time you got back. Here, I prepared these. So, did they like your gift?" She set the boxes aside and made room for the two of them to talk. She grabs a rag and dusts off her stool. His face lights up. Had they rejected such a gift, she'd walk there herself and ask why.
"Thanks, Iz. Turns out they love blueberries!" Ian chuckles. He takes out his phone and shows off the picture they took together. Ian's always been open about how he feels, with him all shy and gushing over them it's no surprise.
"I told you, I'm psychic." She said. About damn time. Ian's little crush on the barista on the corner is finally getting somewhere. Thanks to her words of wisdom, of course. His eyes are glued to his phone, lost in a daydream.
At the sound of a bell chime, Isabelle dashes to the front. The smell of a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls made her mouth water. Please let there be one roll left! Any leftovers can be brought home because Ma'am Lucia can't bear selling day-old bread.
"Good morning! How may I help you? " Isabelle smiled. The sight of mouse-brown hair and green eyes amplifies her already good mood. At the sight of a familiar face, she gasps. She conspicuously picked at the bits of pasty on her apron and threw it aside, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It hadn't even been a whole day! Why is he here? More importantly, how'd he know where she works? Her mind is set on replay of last night's events, searching for an answer.
Thinking of the party and Ian's progress, she momentarily forgot he exists. He took out a box from his pocket and set it on the counter. Aaron wore a white shirt and blue jeans, with brown boots. He carries a large paper bag in one hand.
Wait, isn't it past twelve now? She forgot about lunch. Oh well.
"Good afternoon, Isabelle. This is for you and your.. companion." Aaron said. He has such beautiful skin, that Isabelle can't help but feel envious. If she asks, all he'd say is he just uses water and shampoo. It's not fair.
"That's so nice of you! Thanks so much." Isabelle took out a frappe from the paper bag and dove in. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but her drink tastes sweeter after seeing his smile. She sets aside her bag and hides her brush behind the counter.
Would it be appropriate to ask?
Isabelle took out an extra stool and set it in front of him. She thought of the huge difference in his attitude in the hospital and now. Did his uncle ask him to come here? Isabelle doesn't remember telling either of them where she worked. She may have terrible memory, but that night is vivid.
"The kitchen is a mess, I hope you don't mind sitting out here instead." Isabelle scratches her nose. Okay, a little lie. She just didn't want him to see the mess she made.
"It's fine. Thank you." Aaron replies. She twirls a strand of hair on her finger.
Did he drop by because he's bored? Boo.
"So, Aaron, what brings you here?" She said. Isabelle shot first, not knowing what else to say. Should she ask about his Uncle? He might end up moody. Gosh, with his skin so dewy and clear she can't look away.
"I wanted to see you." Aaron said. He rubs the nape of his neck. Oh? Sounds off. Well, whatever! Nothing can dampen her mood.
"You even brought me these. Could you drop by more often?" She said. She smiles and nudges him with her elbow. He laughs. She stares at the slim box he held, curiosity eating away at her. He slid it in front of Isabelle. No way!
"Consider this as a token of my gratitude, for saving my uncle's life."
Isabelle sets down her drink. She opens it, revealing a gold pendant. It is intricately made into the shape of a swallow with a chain. She covers her mouth. It's beautiful. How could she give back for this? She barely knows him.
"I love it." She said as she holds it in her palm. It is expensive. What if she drops it and it gets lost forever? It's so tiny. She struggles to put it on, not having any mirror nearby.
"A beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman." He comments. Of course. She'd expect nothing less. For someone who seems so unapproachable, he has a gentle touch.
"Thank you." She said. Honestly, she likes things she doesn't have to pay for. The gold is cold to the touch. His phone rings. He excuses himself and walks out to the front. She whips out her phone and immediately texts Ian, who is in the room behind them. After a few minutes, he walks back in.
However, the relaxed look on his face from earlier is gone. What happened?
"Isabelle, I... need to go. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call."
He hands her his card. But he just got here. He'll come by again, no biggie. She watches his figure get smaller, walking away and hopping into his car. Why the rush? Men are difficult to understand.
"So? What's his number?" Ian said. With that grin on his face, he's either ready to tease her or eager to know about him. How long had he been there?
"He's a friend. And yes, I did." She replies. Could he be considered a friend? It sounded better than saying he accused her of nearly killing his uncle. Aaron is rather moody, but he's a handsome moody guy.
"That got you a gift?" He talks in a higher tone than usual. Ian puckers his lips and flips his non-existent long hair. She pouts and crosses her arms.
"I don't act like that." She said. Geez. Isabelle pulls her ponytail off and twirls it into a messy bun instead. Now, where are those bobby pins? Those little things always manage to get lost, one way or another.
"Your social media says otherwise." He said.
"Anyway, he got you something too! What better way to relax than enjoying an ice-cold frappe?" She slid the cup towards him. It'd take much more than some teasing to piss her off.
The two talk more, mostly Isabelle slapping his arm and laughing at internet posts together. The front door bell rings. A woman in a sleek bob walks toward the counter.
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