The Bakery

I remembered quite clearly that I was about this close from snogging Matt Healy in my dream when all of the sudden a hard thump bumped my head onto the car seat in front of me and woke me up. “Ow! What the f…rick frack happened?”

It was the result of the immediate break that Frank pulled in the middle of the street. “I’m so sorry, miss, I really am,” he gushed on the driver’s seat but still strapped by his seatbelt, turning his head back and forth, alternating between looking at me and the road ahead.

“Are we here yet? Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“No, umm, that’s okay,” Frank assured as he rubbed the back of his neck, “No, we’re not there yet. I just almost hit some walkers when I was trying to find your address.”

My mouth went agape, and I reactively covered it with my palm. “Jesus, are they okay? Where are they now? Do I need to pay for anything?”

The thought of being sued for a hit and run on my first day in London almost made me puke my guts out. I didn’t know how was I going to pay my first monthly rent, hell, I even thought twice before I bought an overpriced bottle of water on the plane, not to mention paying fines.

“No no, miss, they went that way before I could do anything, you don’t have to pay for anything,” he said while still lurking his head out the window to search for the said people’s whereabouts, cuing my sigh of relief.

“Oh, well thank God. Now are we at least close to my place?”

He started to accelerate the car again, but keeping his speed under ten miles per hour. “I think so… I think it’s just right around the block.”

“Okay,” I said, “Let me know if you need to see the address again, yeah?”

“Actually, that would be great,” he said with a nervous smile.

I handed the paper I was clutching tight in my hand back to him and let him hold it.

I straightened myself up to get ready to go, just in case it isn’t long until I reach my new flat, trusting Frank and his knowledge about London to go find it. Meanwhile, I started to gather all the things I had left lying on the seat beside me and place them back inside my bag. I made a mental note to go through them again once I settled in the flat so I would know which items to keep and which items to throw out.

I then let go of my jumbled bun and looped the hair tie around my wrist while roughly combing my now loose hair using my fingers. Before I rezipped my bag, I dug inside it to find the pair of sunglasses that I tossed in wee bit earlier.

It was when I put my sunglasses back on to look outside that I saw the very same intersection that we just passed awhile ago.

“Frank, didn’t we pass this shop before?”

His hand found its way back to rub his neck, and with a hesitant voice he answered, “Yes, we did…”

“Did you know where you were going at all?”

“I did, miss, I did! I’m sure your destination is around here somewhere, but I couldn’t find it.”

I leaned forward to take a look at the fare and it was already so much higher than I expected, so I urgently tapped on his shoulder and stopped him. “You’re not doing me any favor by going around blindly, my friend,” I said, trying to be polite but still wincing at the amount of money that I had to pay, “You know what? You can just drop me off there, by the shop right there. I think a cup of tea would be nice right now.”

“Are you sure? I can—“

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said rather quickly. I wasn’t going to keep him raising my fare by cluelessly going all around the block.

Frank finally nodded and looked over his shoulder to back the car up. He then stopped right in front of a little bakery that was squeezed between an equally small flower shop and a tall apartment building. The first thing I noticed was its red fabric canopy above the main entrance, which was a pair of big glass doors with a notice of “Help Wanted” pasted on the front. Above it was a big sign, proudly read “Gardenia”, which I assumed was the name of the bakery. There were a number of outdoor tables arranged loosely in front of the entrance, along with big umbrellas on top of each one. It was one of the most classic-looking shop I had ever visited, one you would see in Audrey Hepburn movies.

As soon as I paid Frank and accepted his apology, I went inside the bakery by pushing the door using my back as both of my hands were occupied by bags. A little bell tingled as it came in contact with the door and I was greeted by a perky young lady behind the counter.

“Hi! How are you?”

It was funny, the exterior of this shop was classic and clean, but its interior was so rustic. The row of breads in baskets in front of me immediately caught my eyes, yet I turned myself left to approach the counter instead. “Managing,” I said bluntly while opening my sunglasses, but soon realized that it probably wasn’t the nicest response to such a lovely girl, “Sorry, I had a long day and it’s not even noon yet.”

“It’s alright, love. What can I get you?” she said with a smile.

“A cuppa chamomile and a warm scone, please.”

“Right away,” she nodded.

She proceeded to leave the counter and approached the drink-making station. I turned around so I could rest my back against the edge of the countertop and took a quick glance at my wristwatch.

I thought for a second that I should probably call home to let everyone know that I was fine, but when I pulled my phone out of my bag, the battery was apparently drained. So instead I just shrugged my shoulder and put it back inside.

My eyes roamed around the small space; there were probably less than ten tables for two there, with the addition of a long table parallel to a wall sofa at the back of the room. The whole vibe reminded me greatly of W Mandeville back home, from the little bell that welcomed me earlier, to the bricks that covered the entire back wall. On each table was a small vase with a single gardenia in it, matching the name of the place. One in each vase, but they were all real, and I loved it.

It took me a little while before I realized that there was a pair of eyes watching me from afar, and they belonged to a girl sitting on the sofa that I mentioned earlier. Well, not a girl, a young woman maybe. She had platinum white hair, which I immediately adored. I tried to throw a smile but she looked away before I had the chance to do so. In front of her was a guy, I assumed, and I could swear that his curls and posture were familiar. I couldn’t tell who it was since his back was facing at me and his head was practically ducked down. Before I knew it, I became too caught up in finding a picture of the face that might match his figure at the back of my head.

Whilst still talking to the lad in front of her, the woman nodded in my direction, and with that I knew that I was caught staring. Out of embarassment, I shuffled through my bag in search of my phone, planning to do my usual escape of pretend texting. My damn phone was once again drowned among the sea of useless pouches and hand lotions, and before I could pull it out, I felt a shadow hovering in front of me.

“Aubrey?”

I slowly looked up with both of my hands still clutching on my bag, wondering who might have known my name here in London. “Yeah?”

It was the guy that was sitting way across the room earlier. “Denning, right?” he asked, leaning forward to take a closer look at my face.

By then, a name came into my head, but I wasn’t sure yet. His eyes looked familiar, but it was his demeanor as a whole that had me in doubt. His physical appearance gave me strong clues about a person I once knew, but something about the way he presented himself made me unsure. It was when a smile curved on his face that I got the confirmation of who it was. I’d recognize that ridiculously deep dimple anywhere.

“Harry Styles,” I said, reactively covering my mouth using my hands.

His smile grew wider and I returned it. “Oh, I was afraid for a second there. I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“Your curls changed,” I joked, “I wasn’t quite sure if it was really you.” It wasn’t really his hair, I realized, but rather his whole poise. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Harry Styles; it was probably the week before he went to his X-Factor audition in Manchester. When I met him again that day in the bakery, he was wearing the same plain t-shirt he would wear back then. His smile wasn’t any less bright, and he still looked at me in the eyes when he talked, just like he used to. Something about him definitely changed though, in a good way. I saw him holding his head a little higher and standing a little taller now.

His face beamed with excitement at my comment. “How are you?” he asked as he pulled me in for a hug.

“I’m good, I’m good. How about you, Haz? Been busy?”

When Harry released me from the hug, I felt a tap on my shoulder, signaling that my orders were ready. He saw the action and quickly offered me to join him at his table, to which I happily obliged.

“I’m great, yeah. What brings you here? I’m really surprised to see you,” he said while taking my carry-on he had insisted to bring to his table.

I was too, to be honest. I knew from Anne that he resided in London now, but I would never have expected to run into him at such a tiny bakery on the outskirts of town.

“A job offer—I just got here actually,” I answered, “I got a call from a book publisher to work here. I basically draw for a living.”

He pinched his eyebrows at my unusual answer as he set the bag down and pulled up a chair for me to sit next to him. “I draw for children’s books,” I reconfirmed while I threw a kind smile at the woman in front of him as a form of greeting.

“That’s really great!” he said before introducing me to her, “Aubrey, Lou. Lou, Aubrey. I used to work with her back home in the bakery. She used to be so mean, one of those overprotective bakers that never let me be near any of her cakes,” Harry said with a side smirk. His eyes were trailing at me, waiting to get a reaction out of me from that remark.

“Hey! You and I both know that you’d just end up ruining the icings if I did,” I defended myself with a playful hit on his upper arm, “And nice to meet you,” I kindly said to Lou.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, “Apologies for staring earlier. I really love your hair; the staring’s a force of habit, I think,” she admitted.

“No worries, oh and I love yours,” I said honestly. Then, not a moment later, I noticed the stretching of her right leg. “What happened to your leg?”

“Lou almost got hit by a cab while we were running awhile ago, she kinda sprained her ankle when she tried to get away,” Harry explained.

Frank.

I cringed at Harry’s explanation, debating with myself over whether or not I should tell them that it may have been my cab that did it. I meant to tell, I swear I did, but instead my cowardly self decided not to. “Oh Lou, I’m so sorry. Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry about it. This is why I hate exercising,” she said, directing the sentiment at Harry. He just rolled his eyes and scoffed, which slightly made me laugh. “But it’s alright now, Sylvia right there,” she continued as she nodded at the girl behind the counter, ”brought me a pack of ice to lessen the pain.”

Lou threw another smile, but I returned it with a more awkward one. “So, book illustrator, huh?” Harry continued to ask.

“Umm, yeah. I actually only have one of my works published, though; The Purple Dungbeetle. I hope I can do more by coming here,” I explained.

“No shit? That’s Lux’s favourite book!” Lou exclaimed.

My heart went excited for a moment, but then I remembered to look at Harry for an explanation, to which he immediately answered, “Her daughter. But yeah, is that book really yours? I’ve seen it around, that’s amazing.”

I mouthed an ‘o’ in response. “Yeah? Well my friend wrote it, I just helped her. But I’m really glad to hear that, you have no idea, thank you.”

“No, thank you, Aubs,” Harry patted on my hand, “That book really made my babysitting days a lot easier. Half an hour with it before bed and Lux would drift off to sleep until the next morning.”

I should have been more ecstatic about all of this, about the success of my book and about meeting Harry, but I just couldn’t seem to pay my fullest attention to either of them. All I could do was to lean back against the chair and take a sip of my tea. My mind was already set in the thought of lying down on my new bed, although I wasn’t even sure myself when was that ever going to happen.

“I’m glad,” I said, “I really am.”

My tone apparently sounded even more tired than I actually was, and Harry noticed it. “You okay? You look rather whipped there.”

I sat back up to let him know that I was fine. “Yeah, no, I’m good. Just filled with excitement and nervousness from the thought of living in London alone.”

“Ah, London is nothing to be worried about,” Harry chuckled in response, “Did you just get here from the airport?”

“Yep,” I confirmed, “It kinda is for me, though. Especially when I couldn’t even find my new flat, so I’m practically homeless,” I tried to joke.

Harry and Lou laughed in response, but they were such sweethearts that I couldn’t help to be offended. It was rather funny too, if I actually thought about it. How does one get lost in a supposedly twenty-minute ride?

“I’m sorry, but did you really?” he asked, “How come?”

I laughed out of self pity, “Yeah, I did. My cab driver was a doll, but apparently he didn’t know London that well either. I just decided to stop here instead.”

“Oh, well that’s a shame,” Harry’s chuckle was toned down into a smile, and he casually threw his arm over the backrest of my chair, “But I’m happy that you did, then. It really is nice to see you again, Aubs.”

“Right back at you, Haz.”