Chapter Four
Spencer
Rain lashed against the window of Novel Tea as I carefully lined up the day’s array of cakes, brownies, buns, and pastries in the display counter, grinning to myself as I adjusted the super cute ghost cupcakes I’d made so they faced outwards.
Mina and I had been experimenting with Halloween designs for our bakes for the last few weeks, and I loved making the little ghosts out of marshmallow icing and piping little faces onto them in chocolate.
Baking was something I’d only really started getting into this year when our awesome baker in residence, Mina, had offered to teach me one morning.
I’d been feeling blue, and she’d wanted to cheer me up, so she’d handed me a piping bag and showed me how to ice cupcakes.
They hadn’t been great, but I’d loved the feeling of calm I got from practising.
After that, I’d wanted to learn more, and Mina had been more than happy for me to give her a hand.
The coffee shop was getting busier by the day, and she was struggling to do everything by herself.
It made sense for me to step in and help out rather than leaving her to sink, and Alex had been happy to hire another part-time staff member to work the counter in my place.
“Okay, little buddies,” I said, lining up the last of the cupcakes. “You look awesome. Go be scary and delicious.”
I grinned and stood up, feeling my ankle twinge from being fixed in place too long. It didn’t happen very often, but it was a niggling reminder that my life could’ve been very different from serving coffee and cake.
I’d been signed by the London based Premier League club, Greenwich Athletic, when I was seventeen, and it was literally my dream come true.
I’d moved to London and worked my butt off on the youth team, determined to make it in the game I loved.
But it wasn’t meant to be. I’d been twenty-one and on loan to a club in Norwich when I’d broken my ankle in a freak accident during a game—the result of a bad tackle gone wrong.
I’d had two surgeries on it and done months of physio, only for the club doctor to sit me down with the manager and tell me I wasn’t going to play again.
Or, at least, I could, but there was like a ninety-five percent chance I’d do myself an incredible amount of permanent damage.
The club wasn’t willing to take the risk, and I’d been forced to retire before I’d even begun my career.
Afterwards, I’d come back to Heather Bay and had been drifting along ever since.
I was mostly pretty happy with my life, but sometimes I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what things could have been like if the accident hadn’t happened.
I knew it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but I still hadn’t stopped dreaming.
“How’re we looking out there?” Mina asked, appearing in the kitchen door in her customary Novel Tea apron, her dark hair swept up into two buns that made her look like Princess Leia.
“Looking good!” I gave her a thumbs up and began to start prepping the coffee machine. “We can put the sandwiches out in a bit. I don’t know if we’ll get a lot of people in this morning.”
I glanced out at the dark, deserted street where rain was still hammering against the window. We opened at eight every morning during the week so we could catch people on their way to work, but I didn’t think anyone would want to stop today.
“I’ll get you a tray now,” Mina said. “Just in case.”
“Sounds great.” I bent down to retrieve a couple of bags of beans from under the counter to pour into the top of the machine.
As I did, I heard the sound of the bell above the door ringing and the door sweeping open, intensifying the sound of the storm outside.
I stood, bags of beans in hand, wondering who on earth wanted to be out this morning.
And saw Noah.
My face split into a grin, my heart skipping at the sight of him.
He was wearing a dark raincoat with the hood up over his suit and a large backpack slung over his shoulders.
He had a large, orange umbrella tucked under his arm.
I guessed the wind was too strong for him to use it without it getting turned inside out.
Whenever I saw that happening, I always thought of the old Disney film, Mary Poppins, where all the nannies get blown away in the magical wind.
I couldn’t imagine Noah getting blown away, though, because there was something about him that just seemed so solid.
It made a feeling of warmth spread through my chest that didn’t really make sense.
But I didn’t want to question it because it felt good.
“Noah! Hey, I didn’t expect to see you this morning. Especially in this rain,” I said. Noah sometimes stopped by to get a drink on his way to school, but that was normally when Alex was opening.
“I didn’t think it was that bad when I left.” He chuckled softly and lowered his hood. “I think it’s getting worse.”
“That sucks, man. I was hoping it would be nice this afternoon so I could go running.”
“Looks like you’ll have to hit the gym instead,” Noah said. “Unless you fancy getting drenched.”
I shrugged. “Probably not. It’ll just make my house smell like wet dog.” Noah laughed, and I grinned. His laughter kind of reminded me of the feeling I got when I drank hot chocolate with Baileys in it—rich and comforting. I didn’t know why I’d only just noticed. “What can I get for you?”
Noah walked towards the counter, peering at the menu written across the large chalkboard on the wall behind it. He left wet footprints on the wooden floor behind him.
“Something warming,” he said. “Is it too early for hot chocolate?”
I scoffed. “It’s never too early for hot chocolate. I think, like, the French have it for breakfast, so you’re totally fine having it now. Which one do you want?”
We’d expanded our hot chocolate range over the last year after Alex had seen a place on Instagram offering a whole hot chocolate menu with about twenty different options. Ours wasn’t quite that big, but we did have six solid choices, plus two rotating seasonal options.
They’d turned out to be pretty popular, especially with our regulars who weren’t fans of tea or coffee or wanted a delicious caffeine-free option.
“What is the pumpkin spice one like?” Noah asked with a quizzical expression. “I’ve heard of pumpkin spice lattes but not hot chocolate.”
“It’s pretty good,” I said. “It’s not my favourite, but it’s nice. It’s like the American pumpkin pie spice mix—cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg—mixed with the chocolate. If you like spiced stuff, you’ll probably like it.”
“Hmm, okay.” Noah considered for a second then smiled. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.”
“When I first heard about pumpkin spice stuff, I thought it was actual pumpkin.” His face flushed, and I grinned.
“Dude, me too! I was so confused because I didn’t know why anyone would want a pumpkin-flavoured drink.” I grimaced. “Pumpkin is gross. My mum used to make pumpkin soup every year, and I hated it.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” Noah said. “Okay, which one would you recommend?”
I thought for a second, trying to remember what I could about Noah.
I liked making suggestions and helping my customers decide on their order, but it felt like there was more pressure this time.
I really wanted Noah to enjoy what I suggested.
“I really like the chocolate orange one,” I said.
“And the salted caramel one is lush, but it’s pretty sweet.
The mint is awesome too. It kinda tastes like those After Eight chocolates. ”
“I’ll try the chocolate orange one, then, please,” Noah said with this soft smile that made me feel like I’d had another shot of Baileys.
“Awesome. I’ll do that now for you. Do you want any cakes or anything? Mina’s just doing the sandwiches if you want to get something for lunch.”
Noah thought for a second and glanced at the cabinet while I pulled out a large takeaway cup and grabbed everything I’d need for his drink. I heard him chuckle and saw he was looking at the ghosts. “These are cute.”
“Right? I think they’re my favourite of our Halloween range,” I said. “I made them this morning if you want one.”
“I’d love that. Thanks.”
There was a moment of quiet between us while I frothed the milk and mixed it with the rich chocolate powder we used.
We’d modified this batch to make it chocolate orange flavoured and the smell was making my mouth water.
I grabbed a new Terry’s Chocolate Orange and smacked it against the counter, hoping it would break up inside the wrapper.
“Can I ask you something?” Noah asked. He was still looking at the cakes.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Are the cupcakes difficult to make? We’ve got the science department bake-off next week, and I’ve got to attempt to make something again. I’m trying to find something simple.”
“They’re pretty easy,” I said, unwrapping the chocolate orange, pleased to see it had split into segments. “The most difficult part is probably the marshmallow icing since you’ve gotta soft boil the sugar.”
Noah laughed. “When you’re me, everything is difficult. Everyone tells me baking is a science, so I should find it easy, but it’s one skill that utterly eludes me.”
“Dude, no. Baking is an art. Yeah, you have to follow the recipe exactly if you want it to work, but it’s more than that.
” I tried to think of a way to put my feelings into words, but I couldn’t explain it.
I didn’t know how to tell Noah that you had to let yourself relax and feel it in your soul. He probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.
“It’s the more part I struggle with. I can follow recipes, but they’re never right. I’m sure it’s me.” He shook his head. “Boxed brownies it is, and if I’m very lucky, Alex will take pity on me and help.”
“I mean, I can help you if you want,” I said. “I’m not like the world’s best baker, but I’m pretty decent. I can teach you. Or at least help you make something for school.”
“Oh.” Noah’s face flushed again, but I didn’t know why. Was it hot in here or something? “You don’t have to do that. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m offering,” I said. “It’s not like you’re demanding my help. You’re my friend, and that’s what friends do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure! Let me teach you how to make cupcakes. We can just do simple ones. It’ll be fun!”
“Okay then, that would be great. Thanks, Spencer.”
“You’re welcome. Just drop me a message and let me know when you can come round.
We can use my kitchen because I’ve got everything we’ll need.
Did you say it was for next week?” I was already thinking about what we could make that would be a good starter recipe for Noah to get his head around.
Mina had started me with basic vanilla cupcakes, so I’d probably do the same.
Although that might be kind of boring for the school bake-off.
Maybe we’d start with chocolate instead. That was usually a pretty good shout.
Noah nodded. “The bake-off is next Friday, the day before half-term. So at least if I totally suck, I’ll have a week to wallow in self-pity before I have to go back to school.”
“If I’m teaching you to make them, they’re definitely not going to suck.” I grabbed the silver whipped cream dispenser out of one of the under-counter fridges and began to load up Noah’s hot chocolate. The whole thing looked amazing, and I was tempted to make one for myself.
“If you say so,” Noah said. “I trust you.”
“As you should.” I grinned and stuck a few chocolate orange segments into the cream, suddenly wondering how I was going to get the lid on. I’d been a little ambitious with the amount of cream I’d used.
But it was Noah, and I didn’t want to be stingy. I grabbed a lid and began trying to carefully squish everything down while Noah watched. Some of the cream dribbled down the side, and I sighed. I was always making a mess.
Eventually, I got it clipped on, and then I grabbed a couple of extra pieces of chocolate orange and rested them on top of the lid.
Just because I could.