Jada blinked back unexpected tears. What had she done to deserve such loyalty so quickly? Her parents had certainly never felt that urge. Again, she squared her shoulders.
“Thanks, but I don’t think that will be necessary. We’re here to work and serve some cupcakes.”
Ella nodded. “Then let’s get to it.”
Jada took a moment to enjoy the sweet, sweet quiet while Ella walked to the door like she wasn’t about to open the portal to hell. Jada bit her bottom lip. Maybe that was a little dramatic. Maybe. In a few seconds, her entrée into impolite society would effectively commence. The flip of the lock, followed by the ding of the overhead bell as the door opened, offered a ringing one-two punch of a sonic boom to her nerves.
The hordes from outside streamed in, gawking at the store like they’d never been inside a bakery before they turned their hawk eyes to Jada. She lifted her chin. She couldn’t stop the bead of sweat sliding down her temple, but she wouldn’t squirm.
“How can I help you?” she asked the first person to reach the front counter, a petite woman with a long ponytail, who looked like she came straight from her yoga class and was all limbered up and ready to rumble.
She practically bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wow. It really is you, Jada. You work here?”
Jada pasted on her brightest smile. “Yep. How can I help you?”
The woman stared at her like she expected Jada to say more. Jada stared back. Finally, the woman sighed. “I’ll take two vanilla cupcakes.”
Jada retrieved the desserts and sent the woman on her way. One down, a million more to go.
The stares were a lot. The not-so-quiet whispering, too. But as long as they bought cupcakes, she didn’t care. At least her impulsive decision to declare Donovan her boyfriend had done some unintended good. They were way busier than they’d been during her first two days. Just when the line slowed down, new arrivals came to take their place. The customers sat at the tables and stared at her as they ate their cupcakes and drank their juice or coffee while also pretending they weren’t taking photos of her with their phones. But whatever. She’d put herself in this position. She’d live with it.
The questions were another story.
“Where’s Donovan?”
“He’s busy.” Said with a pleasant smile. Where was her Academy Award?
“How long have you two been together?”
Jada pretended she didn’t hear. Donovan had been clear he didn’t want to lie about them dating and she would respect his wishes. She’d done enough damage by opening her mouth and declaring him her boyfriend to Gossip Barbie.
The chatter increased in volume. Jada looked up from the cash register. Donovan and Nicholas had rounded the corner. Nicholas, who Jada had come to realize loved attention, headed straight for the masses. Donovan came toward the front counter. The women in line quieted as he neared, then started furiously whispering to each other. He nodded at them and rounded the corner.
“What are you doing here?” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
“I do own this place,” he murmured close to her ear. A shiver lanced her body. Whatever. It was cold. “But really, Nicholas told me the line hadn’t slowed for the past hour, so I had to come see for myself.”
“Makes sense.” She looked up and was caught by his dark eyes. “But you’re adding fuel to the fire.”
“Am I?” He didn’t seem concerned. Is this what happened when you weren’t part of a reality show/pop culture fandom? You didn’t understand how fierce and interested in every detail of your life said fandom could be?
By coming out here, he’d put himself directly in the line of fire, and it was her responsibility to protect him because he wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for her—although he could’ve taken a page out of his friend August’s playbook and found some errands to run. But he hadn’t.
They worked in tandem for a few minutes, fulfilling orders and taking payment. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He smiled and chatted with the customers like he actually knew how to be charming when he put his mind to it. He was playing everyone’s favorite teacher now, instead of the crusty principal. He actually seemed … human.
He didn’t even lose his focus or cool when the more emboldened clientele put their phones right in front of his face and snapped photos.
“Oh, my God, can I get a photo of you two?” one customer asked.
Jada immediately shook her head. “Sorry, but that’s not possible. We have a line.”