Chapter Five
Noah
Spending my Thursday night at Spencer’s wasn’t quite what I’d had planned, but he’d insisted we start sooner rather than later in case I needed a couple of rounds of practice before the bake-off.
I didn’t want to tell him a couple of rounds was optimistic. I still wasn’t convinced I could be taught.
His offer was sweet, though. When I’d asked about the cupcakes, I’d been hoping for a couple of tips or even a basic recipe if he felt generous, not an offer of private baking lessons.
My mind still hadn’t quite wrapped itself around the fact that I was going to be alone with Spencer in his house, and even though I knew he was just being friendly, an idle part of my brain couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it meant something more.
It didn’t. But that didn’t stop me from dreaming.
I knocked on the bright yellow door of Spencer’s beautiful townhouse and stepped back, digging my hands into my pockets. Thankfully, the rain from yesterday had let up, but the bitter wind that had been lingering all week still refused to budge.
I heard footsteps on the other side before the door swung open, spilling warmth and light into the darkening street.
Spencer was bathed in light, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with bare feet on the wooden floor.
His shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back into its typical loose bun, and there was a bright smile on his beautiful mouth.
Spencer had always been gorgeous, dressed up or down, but there was something about seeing him like that—so casual and relaxed—that made my stomach twist.
“Hey! You made it,” he said, moving back and waving me in. “Come on in. I’ve got us all set up in the kitchen.”
“Thanks so much for doing this,” I said as I stepped inside and kicked off my shoes. “I really appreciate it.”
“No worries. It’s going to be awesome. Just follow me.”
Spencer walked down the short corridor towards the back of the house, where the Barbie kitchen was located.
I’d meant what I’d said to him last weekend—I loved how bright and vibrant his house was.
It felt like such a clear reflection of Spencer’s personality—from the sunshine vibe of his bedroom, to the brightness of his kitchen, right down to the flamingo pots on the bathroom windowsill that held large, tropical plants.
The house was already filled with the smell of something baking, and when I entered the kitchen, I saw two trays of cinnamon buns sitting on the side, steam curling off them as they cooled.
“Sorry about the mess,” Spencer said, even though there was very little mess to be seen.
The counters were all wiped clean, and there were various bowls and beaters drying on the drainer beside the sink.
His metallic, raspberry-coloured stand mixer stood proudly on the side like some shining beacon to the baking gods.
“I was just testing out a couple of different bun recipes for the winter. Like a couple of Christmas specials.”
“What flavours are you testing?” I asked, pulling a notebook out of my backpack before setting the bag down in a corner.
“Spiced orange and gingerbread. They should be cool in a bit so you can test them with me and let me know what you think.”
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be because they both sound delicious.”
“Nah, you’ll be perfect. I want, like, a general consumer’s opinion because Mina and I can sometimes be a bit picky.”
“Surely that’s a good thing, though?”
“Yeah, I guess, but we don’t want to get stuck on the fence because we can’t decide if they’re good or not.
” He grinned. On anyone else it would have looked cocky, but on Spencer it just looked charming.
“Although, I mean, they’re ours, so they’re not gonna be totally shit or something, but you know what I mean. ”
“I do, and I agree, they’re never going to be shit. Mostly because my baking will always be worse,” I said.
“Dude, stop putting yourself down,” Spencer said. “You’re gonna be awesome!”
“If I am, then you can take all the credit,” I said. “So, where do we start?”
Spencer handed me a black apron, then showed me the recipe we were going to use. “They’re just simple chocolate cupcakes, so you can’t really go far wrong. I picked our basic recipe too, so you don’t have to separate and beat egg whites or something.”
“That’s a thing? For cupcakes?” I stared at him.
“Yeah, Mina’s got this really fancy cupcake book, and a couple of the ones in there are, like, blow your mind complex,” Spencer said with a nod. “But you don’t need to worry about that.”
“Okay, this sounds far simpler in comparison,” I said, suddenly glad I wasn’t being asked to do anything like that. I felt more confident about pulling a rabbit out of a hat than doing any kind of whisked egg-white cupcake concoction.
“See? You’ve got this.” Spencer clapped me on the shoulder and beamed at me. His belief in me was almost infectious, and I started to wonder whether making cupcakes really wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility.
Spencer gave me two cupcake trays to line with colourful paper cases before presenting me with two bowls and a set of scales.
He set them on the kitchen island and watched me measure out and sift flour, cocoa powder, and a pinch of salt into one bowl and caster sugar and softened butter into the large bowl of the stand mixer.
Then he showed me how to clip it into place and switch the mixer on.
“You can do it by hand or with one of those little hand mixers, but since I have Betty, it would be a crime not to ask her to do it.”
“Betty?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You named the mixer?”
Spencer flushed, and his shoulders had gone tense. “Yeah. Is there a problem with that?”
“No! I think it’s cute. But why Betty?”
“I thought it was cute too,” he said. “And it just kind of fit. So she’s Betty. And she’s a legit lifesaver. I couldn’t live without her.”
“I think she’s wonderful,” I said, peering down into the bowl. “How much longer do you think?”
Spencer leant across me and glanced into the bowl, his shoulder brushing against mine. “Definitely another few minutes. You want to make sure they’re properly combined, or it can end up grainy, and it’ll make your cakes dense. It’s gotta be light and fluffy.”
I nodded and tried not to think about the brush of his shoulder. I was too old to lose myself in daydreams and fantasies from one accidental touch. Spencer wasn’t suddenly going to magically see me in another light and swoop me up in his arms. We were friends, and that was it.
While the butter and sugar creamed, I combined an egg, some milk, and a splash of vanilla extract in a jug.
I’d not used milk in baking before, but Spencer explained it was good for ensuring the cupcakes stayed soft and moist while also enhancing the flavour.
It made sense, and I made a little note in my notebook to remind myself for the future.
I’d decided I’d write down as many tips and tricks as possible to help myself out next time I ventured into the land of baking.
“Okay, now you’ve gotta slowly add the egg and milk mix, then the flour,” Spencer said.
I reached for the jug and went to pour it straight into the bowl, but Spencer reached out and gently gripped my wrist. His hand was warm against my skin as he slowly guided me.
“Gently,” he said. “Gotta do it slowly, a little bit at a time.”
“Doesn’t the recipe say to add it all at once?” I asked, trying to keep my racing heart in check. Why did this moment suddenly feel so intimate?
“It does.” Spencer’s voice was soft and understanding. He stepped slightly closer to me, and I felt heat radiating off him. “But what you actually want to do is add a little bit of the milk, then a little bit of the flour, then milk again until it’s all combined. Otherwise you risk it splitting.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
Spencer didn’t let go of me until he decided enough milk had been added, and then he drew my hand back. “Good. Now the flour mix. You want, like, a third of it.”
I nodded and gently added the flour. Betty mixed everything carefully, and it was nice to see everything starting to come together. I glanced at Spencer, and he smiled at me in approval. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning as I added the rest of the ingredients in turn.
“That’s perfect,” Spencer said. “You don’t want to over mix it, or you’ll knock all the air out of it, so I think we’re nearly done.”
“That was both easier and more complex than I expected,” I confessed as Spencer switched Betty off and carefully lifted the arm. He unclipped the beater and tapped it against the edge of the bowl to dislodge some of the mixture that was clinging to it.
“You did great, and these are going to taste amazing.” Spencer ran his finger along the beater to collect some of the mix on his finger. He lifted his finger to his mouth and licked the chocolate batter off his skin while I stood staring, utterly transfixed.
My cock stirred in my jeans, and I was glad I could lean against the side of the island and hide my crotch from view. If Spencer noticed, it would lead to a very awkward conversation I’d rather avoid.
Spencer held the beater out to me. “It’s really good. You want to try some?”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. When I was a kid, my mum would let me clean the bowl of any cakes she made, but I didn’t think it was appropriate to start licking Spencer’s beater in the middle of his kitchen.
I suddenly imagined showing Spencer all the things I could do with my tongue and groaned internally because those were not the sort of thoughts I should have been having.
I ran my finger across the beater, then sucked the mixture off, hoping I was doing it in a graceful, nonsexy manner. The batter tasted amazing, and I made a little happy noise. Spencer chuckled.
“Good?”
“So good! This is amazing.”
“If you think it’s good now, just wait until they’re cooked.” He handed me an ice cream scoop, and I raised an eyebrow.
“Did I miss something?”
“Nah, it’s for adding the mixture to the cake cases. Works so much better than a regular spoon or trying to pour it in.”
“That actually makes a lot of sense,” I said, lining up the two trays and starting to scoop the cupcake mixture into them. Spencer watched, and when I’d finished, he showed me how to give the trays a little wiggle so the batter flattened out, allowing them to bake more evenly.
“And now, these delicious little dudes are going into the oven.” Spencer lifted one tray and bent down to slide it into the oven underneath the hob.
“They’ll need about twenty minutes, but we’ll test them to see if they’re done.
” I passed him the other tray and watched him slide it onto the second shelf.
“While they cook, we can clean up and try some of the cinnamon buns. Are you okay to have them without icing? I meant to make some earlier, but I ran out of time. I can do some now if you want, though. I probably should so we get the full bun experience.”
“I was going to say I was fine without it, but now I feel like I need the full bun experience too,” I said, almost teasingly. “Will it take long to make?”
“Not really. I can do it in, like, fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”
“I can clean up while you do.” I collected the various bowls and moved them over to the large sink on the far wall. “Do you need any of these now?”
“I could do with Betty’s,” Spencer said, a soft smile on his face. “I really need to get a second one for times like this, but I keep forgetting.”
“That’s okay. It’ll only take me two minutes to wash.”
I turned on the tap and quickly cleaned and dried the mixing bowl while Spencer assembled what he needed for the icing.
We lapsed into comfortable silence as Betty whirred and the dishes clinked in the sink.
It was one of those calm, domestic moments I’d never really experienced before.
Alex and I were always chatting, and if not, he usually had music playing to fill the quiet.
Alex didn’t like silence that much.
“Okay, I think I’m done,” Spencer said as I slotted the last of the clean dishes that had been drying on the rack into the cupboard.
I’d had to move them to make space for the new bowls, and it seemed silly to leave them sitting there when I could easily put them away.
“First, though, we’ll check these cakes. ”
He grabbed a small skewer out of a drawer, then noted my confusion. “It’s to test the cakes to see if they’re cooked all the way through. If they are, the skewer will come out clean. It’s not, like, the most scientific method, but it works.”
Spencer opened the oven and grabbed some tea towels to lift the two trays of cupcakes out.
I stared, mouth half-open, because they actually looked pretty decent.
They weren’t completely smooth and even—a couple of them had sprouted mountainous peaks in the middle and one had erupted over one side of the case—but they were a damn sight better than anything I’d made before.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “They look like cakes.”
“They look awesome,” Spencer said, carefully putting the trays onto the hob before shutting the oven door.
He handed me a skewer. “Okay, time to test. Just gently push it into the middle, then we can see how they look.” He gently pressed a finger to the top of one of them, nodding as it sprang back.
“See that? That’s a good sign too. And they’re not making a hissing or bubbling noise either. ”
I held my breath as I pushed the skewer into the cake and pulled it out. The shining metal was clean with one or two crumbs sticking to the end. I turned to Spencer, my face split from ear to ear in the biggest smile I’d ever worn. “They’re cooked. I did it!”
“Yeah, you did!” He held out his hand for a high five, and the slap of skin echoed around the kitchen. “I knew you could.”
“Only because you helped me do everything.”
“Hey, everyone needs help at first,” he said. “And I’ll help you next week too when you make them for school. And if you want, you can always come round again at the weekend, and I’ll show you how to ice things. I don’t know if we’ll get time tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, positive. Come round Saturday afternoon. Like three-ish. I’ll bring some plain cakes back from work, and we can practice on them.”
“Okay,” I said, giving him a little nod and trying not to get swept off my feet by the idea of coming back here. “That sounds great. Thank you.”
Spencer waved his hand and shook his head like giving up his precious free time to help me wasn’t a big deal. “No worries. Now, did you want to test one of the buns?”