one - meeting you

the art of meeting you

- - -

Dexter's Bakery had been the main hotspot for any sort of savoury snacks since before I was born. I could remember all the childhood trips into the city with my parents and brother, sitting on a stool near the exit as we devoured cake after cake. So when I started at NYU, I knew exactly where I wanted to work. Before lectures, I'd always stop by to help Mrs Dexter with the morning shift and baking, before returning back in the evening for rush hour. The old lady always tried to pry me away, but I truly enjoyed the time I spent here, and I cherished those memories even more after she died.

I'd been two years into my degree when she got sick, and the bakery's future was uncertain. I couldn't let it go to waste, and neither could her family. Her granddaughter, and my best friend, Hendrix fought her parents endlessly for the lease, swearing to keep up her grandmother's legacy even after she died. We worked endlessly for months, coercing all of our friends into joining our endeavour to save the place that we both adored. We invested in new furniture, advertisements, everything to try and give our safe haven the name that it deserved.

And now three years down the line, I could proudly say this place was my second home. Both Hendrix and I co-owned Dexter's and the business was insane. We'd managed to hire some more students to help run it while we committed to extra occupations and work.

Today was one of the rare days that I was alone. Hendrix was busy annoying her girlfriend and attempting to finalise her art piece for an auction coming up, while I was certain the others had just made up any excuse to not have to work.

I preferred it like this, though. The familiar aroma of the building felt peaceful, relaxing, which was almost certainly needed after the morning rush.

"Are you done sniffing the air yet?"

I jumped, almost falling into the cabinet as I turned to glare at the person who'd entered without my knowledge.

"Fuck off, J." I muttered, not being able to hide the smile threatening to spread across my face even though I tried. "Bitch."

"Wow. I've fully blessed you with my presence and that's the response I get? Rude." They laughed, shaking their head as I kissed my teeth.

Jem tends to have a flair for the dramatic at times, but I loved them all the same.

"Blessed? More like cursed." I bit back a smirk, shaking my head.

"Where's Drizella today?" Jem hummed as I made up their usual order. They handed me the usual seven dollars as they started to eat one of their cookies.

Drizella, also known as Hendrix Dexter.

Hendrix Dexter was my best friend. It's that simple. We met in College officially when she punched someone in the face because they were making fun of Jem and, alas, a great friendship was formed. She stuck to me from the start, like glue. It didn't matter how much I tried to shake her off, she wouldn't leave. But, in all honesty, I wouldn't want her too. Hendrix was loyal and dramatic and chaotic, she brought entertainment into my once very dull life and her grandmother provided me with my own little safe haven. I started working at Dexter's long before I met Drix, not knowing her family connection to it. So when Jennifer died, I knew I couldn't let that place go so easily. We bought it together, we ran it together. She's more of a sister to me than a best friend and damn was my life better with her in it.

"Ali's got a day off work so Hendrix wanted to see her." I explain, cleaning the mantlepiece. Jem had arrived just after the morning rush so I got a few moments to just relax. "And she's got an art piece to finish for the Gallery, so good luck with dealing with her tonight. You'll need it."

Then, there was Aaliyah Hadad next. Ali had joined our little group around three years ago when she started dating Hendrix. She was quiet next to Hendrix's constant noise, but they suited each other's personalities well. It was nice to have someone around who could make Hendrix shut up quickly.

She worked quite a lot so any time she managed to get off was usually spent with them together. Hendrix adored every inch of Ali and you could tell just how much they meant to each other.

Next in our little family came Jem. Jem was currently embarking on their Master's at Columbia. We grew up together in Nowhere, New York (at least that's what I called it) and we'd been like family since we were young, so it was without question that we would continue our life pursuit together. We were roommates for a while, despite the fact I was at NYU, before my younger brother decided to follow me into the city. Jem had then decided that living with Hendrix would be more fun. They still spent most of their day in the bakery when I was working, drinking stolen lattes and cookies with the idea that I could somehow help them with their Literature work despite my lack of common sense.

"Wow, no Sacha and no Hendrix. What did I do to get so lucky?" Jem remarked sarcastically.

And finally, my little brother Sacha. He had girls fawning over him constantly, obsessed by his whole rock and roll aesthetic. He wanted to be a Rockstar, play bass in the biggest band in the world and I knew he could do it. He'd formed a band with some of his college friends and they'd been doing small gigs here and there and, shit, they were so talented. We wrote songs together, bonding over our love for music and I loved every second of having him in my life. Our Mom and Dad were never around that much so it was always just me and him.

Well, until we found our little family.

Jem might joke about how much Sacha annoys them, but I knew they adored the little squirt just as much as I did. We grew up together, the three of us against the world.

Sacha was spending the day recording another demo with his band and finding another venue that would let them play. He'd originally planned to come to the city for college but we both knew it wouldn't last long. The moment any professional showed interest in Fallen Temple, he'd be gone. Without hesitation. Our parents wouldn't even know, no doubt, given the fact that nothing seemed to tear their attention away from their work.

We lived and breathed music, and I knew this was it for him.

It was only 10am, but it'd already been a long day. The student I had scheduled for the morning shift with me had called in sick, and Hendrix was already in for the evening so it was left to me.

I had the same routine almost every morning. Jem called in for their complementary morning cookie, as usual, and then myself and whoever was on shift with me would work through the customers.

Today, however, it was almost like Jem's arrival had triggered a chain reaction as customers started rushing in for their morning coffees. They'd ended up helping for a while, before having to leave quite quickly so they wouldn't be late for their seminar. I sent a quick text to the Work Group Chat, requesting that the workers in on Friday were prepared to make the wedding cake booked in.

I normally liked to do the big orders but Hendrix had persuaded me to let the younger workers have some further responsibilities, so Hendrix would be able to resurrect my social life and find me a husband.

Or a sugar daddy, both worked well.

It always made me giggle when she used the word 'resurrect' so casually, as if I had a social life to begin with.

Human interaction was something I always despised as most people were unable to tell the difference between being insulted and raw sarcasm, which formed the foundation of my entire personality. That lack of knowledge often led to misunderstandings, which led to my annoyance, which led to a general hatred of the human population.

Standard procedure, really.

I liked my small group of friends. Hendrix had enough personality and counted for at least six normal humans. Ali fit the stereotypical quiet friend. Jem was loud and boisterous when they needed to be, confident in a way that I wasn't and loved to talk about all things Literature and Politics based. Sacha, being the youngest, often fell victim to Hendrix's taunting, which provided us all with some solid entertainment on a daily basis.

I'd gotten so used to the constant noise that the bakery always seemed eerie at this time of the day. The muffled noise of the outer streets was the only thing I could hear above the soft sound of the radio. No forced conversations or loud rushes of people. The bakery was always quiet in the period between the morning and lunch crowd; I always found sanctuary in the silence.

I was lost in thought when the doorbell rang, lifting my head so I could serve them. I dusted my hands off on my apron.

Having worked here since I was eighteen, I was familiar with the regular customers and had become mastered in the art of remembering faces. The first thing I noticed was that this specific individual was somebody that I'd never had the privilege of seeing before. I took the man in. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans that hung a little too low on his waist, silver chains linking his belt that glinted under the morning sun, and a tight black turtleneck that left little to the imagination.

In other words, he was somebody that Hendrix would describe as 'sex on legs'.

It didn't help my train of thoughts when the word Beautiful echoed throughout my head. It'd been a long time since the sight of someone had left me breathless but, fuck, nobody else was ever as deserving of the title than him. Dark messy strands lay matted on his forehead, and a part of me hesitated before going to greet him, afraid that my slight anxiety would clog up my throat and needlessly embarrass me.

It turns out that I didn't need to worry, as he looked up from the display case and met my gaze head on.

He smiled, eyes sparkling as he nodded his head in greeting.

"Mornin'"

I blinked, before managing to snap myself out of my daze to greet him back. "Good morning. Welcome to Dexter's Bakery. Can I get anything for you?"

His smile widened, his lip being tugged into his mouth by his teeth as he leaned on the counter, cocking his head slightly.

"Everything looks so good. What'd you recommend?" The slight twang in his accent made my heart flutter and I had to force myself to breathe and pull my eyes away from his slightly swollen lip, from where his teeth had gnawed at it.

It's the hair, I muse internally, and the hand tattoos. Fuck. Why are tattoos so damned attractive?

"Depends. Are you more of a cake or pie person?" I gestured to the opposite case, showcasing some of Drix's finest creations. "We have some pastries too."

"Hm," His dark brown eyes sneaked over to the cake display, widening in delight. The expression on his face left me flustered. God, a perfect smile and perfect eyes? Give me a fucking break. "How about you give me one of your favorite cakes and can I get a medium cappuccino, please?"

Is he flirting with me?

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Do not panic, Saint. I repeat, do not panic.

He's not flirting. He's not flirting.

I'm panicking.

I nodded, not being able to find it in myself to speak. I picked out our infamous Jennifer cupcake, named after the awesome lady who used to run this place, and placed it into a paper bag.

"That'll be $5.50, please."

The man smirked, as if he knew what his presence was doing to me, before handing me a $10 note and bidding me to keep the change, before walking out.

I can't do this. Fuck. Some stranger walked into my bakery and now I'll be thinking about him everyday for the next ten years. It's official, I'm going crazy.

Maybe Hendrix was right and I needed to find myself a husband.

Oh, social anxiety my old friend.

The lunch rush comes and goes. I'm still thinking about the tattooed stranger with light brown skin and fluffy, dark hair. He must be travelling, right? I'm never going to see him again so why do I care so much about some random person who's never going to be near me ever again.

Jem would be fucking dying if they could see me right now. The embodiment of gay panic, as they liked to call me. Hendrix would be sending small jabs at me with her words, and then would set her sights on annoying Sacha just to cheer me up.

"Dude, the fuck are you doing?"

My head shot up from where I'd been mindlessly staring at the cupcakes.

Hendrix stared at me with raised brows, her pink hair tugged into a high ponytail as she fixed me with a knowing but suspicious look.

I shrugged nonchalantly but, as usual, she didn't let it drop.

"Let me guess, Karen came back?" She asks teasingly, grabbing her apron and putting it on.

Laughing, I shook my head. Karen was a regular customer that we tried and failed to avoid, given her quick temperament and general rudeness. Hendrix wasn't one for being anything but extreme and blunt so naturally they didn't get on well.

"You would've found me hiding if she showed up." I admit wholeheartedly, "Everything good with Ali?"

Her eyes lit up, pink lips tugging up as she went on her tiptoes, a habit that she'd gotten into whenever she was excited. "Yeah! She helped me sort out my portfolio and I finished that stupid fucking painting."

I rolled my eyes, unable to fight off my own smile at her expression. "So no more getting stressed out?"

"Oh, darling Saint Nicolas, do you even know me?"

A/N:

i'm back!!

i'm so excited to share saint and kaz's story with you guys. but, damn, i forgot how much i hated finding a way to end chapters

please vote and comment your thoughts!

love you guys,

laska x