Air so Cold, Mind so Bitter.

The moon illuminated the surroundings, creating a beautifully tranquil scene, bouncing off every inch of every visage in sight. It either highlighted the natural splendor of a person, or made their features even more dull than per usual. This woman’s particular features seemed to glow in the night, our trustee moon reflecting in her blue orbs, quivering like a pebble to water. She was sat comfortably on the rustic type chair, tapping her foot lightly to the beat of ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’, engrossed in a book that had been given to her as a welcoming home, temporarily, present. Her jaw line was high and womanly, leading up to her tightly scrapped up blond hair, a tidy bun placed in the direct center of her head. The air was cool and refreshing, but still with the scent of summer drifting past, as well as the fumes of her chai latte filling her nose.

This is what peace was.

“Would you like anything else, ma’am?” asked the waiter, clad in black, drain pipe jeans and a black button up shirt – the typical waiter attire. He also had a small apron tied around his waist, with a couple of cheap biros, his notepad and a neon green lighter. No cigarettes, though.
“What would you recommend?” she asked, smiling warmly and turning the book down, placing it on the overly expensive, purposely worn table, then putting her rectangular glasses on top. The waiter noticed how her eyes made the reflection of the moon almost shake in the pool of blue.
“That depends on what you’d like at half ten at night,”
“Something sweet would be great,” she smiled a little waiter. “Surprise me,”
He smiled back too. “Are you allergic to nuts?”
“Not as far as I know,”
“Then I have the perfect answer,” he grinned and drifted back inside the café, fixing up the soon to be special of the café, if enough people deemed it to be tasty enough. It took a lot of work and was terribly easy to spoil, but if done correctly, the end product was magnificent. So magnificent he decided to fetch one for himself too.

“Here you are,” he nodded, placing the chocolate, hazelnut, fudge and orange cake in front of his customer. It oozed everything wonderful about food, making your taste buds explode with pleasure upon contact. He placed a clean dessert fork and napkin next to her. “Enjoy,”
“This looks fantastic,” she complimented, frowning a little as she saw him move to a table far away, with a cake of his own. She ushered for him to come closer and join her on her table.
“Is that okay if I sit here?”
“Perfectly fine,” she nodded. “Plus, it makes me look a little less lonely,”
He chuckled quietly, empathizing completely, being a lonely man himself. They both tucked in to their cakes, moaning a little as you do when you taste something so delicious as the cake. It made him feel a little cocky for doing so, seeing as this was his creation, but he had every right to.
“Wise choice,”
He laughed again. “It’s a chocolate dream – thus making it perfect for a woman,” he paused. “And most men,”
She took several more bites before returning to the conversation. He re-started it before she had the chance to respond or bring up a new point.
“Why are you out so late?”
“It’s really not that late,” she said.
“It is for reading and eating cake at a café,”
“Then you shouldn’t stay open so late,”
“Touché,” he smirked, sensing her smirk too.
“I want to stick to my usual sleeping pattern, so I have to force myself to stay awake during night, whilst sleeping through the scorching day. I have a lot of time to fill, and this is perfect for just that,”
“What is it that forces you to have an irregular sleep pattern?”
“I’m a soldier. I fight in Afghanistan, but I have three weeks, five days off to try and heal before going back to fight the Taliban. The timings are different so I don’t want to change it too much,”
“Shit,” he whispered. “Oh, sorry! Are you alright with cursing? Some people aren’t, and if you’re one of them, I apologize,”
“Cursing is fine,” she smiled.
“Good,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re in the army? Wow, I commend you. That takes some guts, huh? I’m stuck here teaching and making cakes whilst you battle in Afghanistan, protecting our country. I feel so very inferior,”
“Because I’m a woman who fights, right?” she asked bitterly, annoyed that she’d met yet again a misogynistic man.
“No, not at all. It’s more the purpose of our lives that makes you superior,” he nodded thoughtfully.
“Oh, alright. I’m sorry for the bitter tone,”
“Think nothing of it,” he grinned. “Is the cake to your satisfaction, ma’am?”
“Very much so, thank you. I may need the recipe sometime,”
“Ahh, but one day this cake will be world famous, and people will fork out their life savings for it, so until then, it’s a secret, “ he winked and took the two empty plates and her mug inside, putting them in the dishwasher and turning it on. He switched all the other appliances off, stacked the chairs, then locked up, returning to his companion.

“I’m afraid we’re closed now,” he said, biting his bottom lip and undoing the apron.
“It’s alright, I’ll just stay here and continue reading for a little while, unless of course you want me off the premises. How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house,”
“No, it’s not, how much do I owe you,” she said a little more sternly.
“Yes, it is, and you’re fine to stay on the premises, as long as you don’t vandalize anything. If I see a smashed window tomorrow, you’re getting all the blame,”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“Life just isn’t sometimes,” he chuckled again and slung the messenger bag over his shoulder, pushing the small apron inside and pulling out his keys. “But if you’d like, I have another one of those cakes at home, I can give you a few slices. For the plane ride back to Afghanistan or something,”
“I’ve already lost you a sale, I wouldn’t want to d-”
“From friend to friend,” he smiled, sticking out his hand. She returned his expression and stood up, shaking his hand. “And, uh, whoa, that’s some firm hand shake you have there,”
She laughed, making him smile more, because the moon and her laughter made her that bit more striking. “So I’ve been told,”
“I’m Brendon, by the way,”
“Well, Brendon by the way, I’m Marina Hunters, pleasure to meet you,”
“One – smart ass. Two – with a name like Hunters you’re born to fight, and three – would you like to follow me to your carriage, which shall take you to the castle? Aka my place, which has cake,”
“Automatically making it a castle,”
“Precisely.” he smiled up at her, extending his arm so they could link together as they walked to his car, if she accepted of course. She hooked her arm into his, a little uncertain about everything, but he seemed a nice enough man, and she’d seen him many times before at this café, so if anything turned out to be remotely dodgy, she knew where to report.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“South of Sacramento, near the big water park,” she said, focusing on her footsteps. “Sometimes you can hear the overzealous kids screaming as they go down their first slide,”
He laughed. “That must get annoying at times,”
“I’m not here often, so not really.”
“Ahh, of course,” he nodded. “I live north, by the new shopping complex, in the big set of apartments. Care to join me?”
She grinned warmly and they soon arrived at the parking lot, him unlocking his relatively new mini cooper, black with the checkered top. She raised her eyebrows and he sighed lightly.
“Before you ask, no, I’m not gay. I actually like mini coopers,”
“I wouldn’t dare ask such a thing,” she smirked, and he simply flashed his teeth at her as they clambered into the car, reversing and pulling out onto the road. The streetlights blurred as they drove past quickly, coming across the occasional plant, but this was California, and not much vegetation could survive this heat. The ones that did were disguised by the night.
“I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from anything or anyone,” he said softly as they stopped at the traffic lights, stationed behind an over-polluting hummer.
“No, I have nowhere to be or no one to see right now,”
“That surprises me,”
“How so?” she asked, pouting a little. He pressed down on the accelerator pedal as the lights changed to green.
“I assumed you would have a partner. Mainly because of the ring on your finger.”

He pulled into the estate, winding the car window down to swipe his card, which would allow him entrance to the apartment car park. He swiftly parked in his spot, then got out, running to the other side to hold open the door, but Marina was already out, so he merely locked it and shoved his hands in his pockets, bag over shoulder.
“It’s not an engagement or marriage ring,” she stated, following him to the elevator, watching his fingers as he pressed ‘8’ for his floor.
“A purity ring?”
“I suppose you could call it that, yes,”
“Oh. Well kudos to you for having morals,” he smiled again, a small ‘ding’ being heard, denoting they had arrived on the right floor. He exited first, with his visitor in tow. She scanned the corridor quickly, and it seemed almost like a hotel, clean, airy and with soft music in the background. She approved.
Brendon forced the key into the lock, jiggling it about, it finally clicking into place and twisting, making the door swing open. They both walked inside, immediately taking off shoes.

The heavy door shut by itself.

“Please excuse the mess, my friend Will has been staying here for the past few weeks until he finds a place. He’s your stereotypical alpha male – hence the, dear God, underwear on the kitchen floor,”
Brendon picked up the underwear from arms length, throwing it into the hamper and shuddering at the thought of what could have now contaminated his hands.

“Will, get your fucking act together!” he shouted. “It’s repulsive what you do!”

A man, who must have been in his early twenties, wearing some blue, plaid pajama bottoms and no shirt, came out of another room. He was tanned, with extremely toned pecs, and perfectly disheveled hair. The opposite of Brendon, really.
“Stop being such a homo, Urie,” he smirked. “I see you have company! Hey there, I’m Will, the only good looking one in this household,” he boasted, walking forwards and sticking out his hand for it to be shaken.
“If you continue with that shit, then soon I’ll be the only one again, thus making me the better looking one,”
Will rolled his eyes and returned to Marina, waiting for her to say something.
“I’d rather not touch your hand, thank you,”
Brendon scoffed, earning him a glare from his male companion.
“And if I’m being perfectly honest, Brendon’s the better looking one,”
His jaw dropped inches, almost hanging loose from his face, whilst Brendon stood with one hand on his hip and a smug look on his face. Will flipped them off and returned to his original room, closing the door.
“Thank you for that,” he chuckled, washing his hands, then taking the cake out of the cake tin, slicing it and placing it in a plastic container.
“It’s so much fun to deflate someone’s ego,” she smiled, crossing her arms in a non-defensive way and leaning against the marble counter top. It was obvious Brendon took pride in everything he did, which was always a good thing in her books.
“I’ve tried to deflate his on many the occasion, and on many the occasion, it’s resulted in me losing because, I quote, ‘I’m the little homo man’,”
“You’re not short, nor are you gay. You take pride in what you do, and it looks like you strive for perfection with what you can control. That should be looked up to, not insulted,”
He laughed again. “You much deserve this cake more than Will does. I’ve known him since the age of three, but I already prefer you,”
A small blush crept to her cheeks. She liked this man, he was so very different to the people she surrounded herself with daily – the soldiers. They treated her like one of the guys, which was a fantastic thing on the battle field, because she wasn’t crept around like a delicate flower. Brendon seemed more gentle, more caring, not that the soldiers weren’t caring – he treated her like a woman. Something she just wasn’t used to.
“Plus, I am quite short,” he giggled. She hadn’t heard a man giggle before. It was strangely comforting.
“You’re taller than me, which by design makes you tall,”
“I’m short for a man, anyway. You’re tall for a woman, but only a smidgen smaller than me,”
She walked over to him, faces close, to compare height. She held up her hand and ran it over the top of her head, it stopping just under his hairline. He smiled.
“I’d say you’re about five seven?”
“That would be the one. So you must be five eight, or a little bit more, I know how guys are very picky about height,” she smirked, it getting bigger as he mumbled “And a half...”
He backed away a little and picked up her hand, placing the container with cake in her hand. He curled her fingers around it.
“Shit,” he cursed. “I said you could have this for the journey, but you’re not going back for a few weeks. The cake isn’t quite that magical that it can last for several weeks without being stale. Tell you what, come back to the café just before you leave and I’ll fix one up for the troops,”
“Really? That would be wonderful, thank you very much, um,”
“Brendon,” he smiled, finishing her sentence.
“Thank you Brendon. Do you want this cake back, or should-”
“You keep it. It’s for you specifically.”

She smiled in return, and wondered when she’d smiled so much. Brendon was an incredibly upbeat person, always smiling and laughing, because it was just in his nature.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” he nodded, picking up a whiteboard pen, removing the cap and passing it to her. “Would you mind if I had your number? I know I’m assuming a lot here, but, um-”
She nodded and smiled, writing her number on his fridge, signing off ‘-Marina, cake girl.’