Funfetti Cupcakes Part II

My mind flashes back to the previous night. The mixing. Pouring. Baking. Cooling. Frosting. Decorating. The mess I was forced to clean up. All on a quiet Thursday night in anticipation on my partner's upcoming birthday. I wonder if all my negativity toward baking is a terrible beginning and curse to her special day-and quickly stop those thoughts. I casually and somewhat cheerfully finish my job, finally wrapping myself up in bed somewhere around 2 a.m.

Now, as I stand in the hot, clustered cafeteria, all eyes on me and my corral of farm animals, the realization that my hard work, struggle, and anticiaption has gone to waste as my cupcakes are senteced to a gruesome death. My argument is not strong enough, as nothing I can do will budge this higher power; the twitch that I had so masterfully controlled all this while has returned, and contolling that minor defect in my life is now the farthest thought from my mind. I slowly turn to face my aluminum fortress-what the hell am I going to do with 50 cupcakes?

As much as Colleen tries to hold up a solid countenace, the hurt behind her sparkling green-blue eyes runs deep; her simple wish for a cupcake celebration with those who mean the most to her has been dissapated. Our distrought emotions have distressed the children now; I start to genuinely get nervous- My flace flushes red. My hands tremble and not God Himself could settle these nerves. Steven, hiding in the kitchen lifts his head to check in on me; typically his perceptiveness lacks somewhat, however, this time, he tries to comfort me. Desperatley trying to get me to smile, he suggests I should go on the corner and sell them to neighbors. My black raincloud begins to dissapate and as it does, Steve takes a bite out of one particularly perfect one, after a long struggle to convice him that one cupcake would not destroy his buff and gym-cultured body, as I joke that I could bake and cook rather well- that he'd never be hungry so long as I was a Sicilian woman.

He eats it, jokingly moaning to prove he genuinely enjoys the dessert. "One more." he says, smiling briliantly, and when he completes it, finishes with "Alyssa. It tastes like clay." Knowing I'll push him in some sad attempt to get even with him, he swings his other arm around me to imply a hug, and slips one last cupcake out of the tin behind my back. "Alyssa...you're the best. Bake again tomorrow." I promise to leave them on his car, my face now flushed from the simple rush of being in his presence. I can't help but smile- the excitement coming hand in hand with newly found attraction.

"Alyssa, what are you doing giving cupcakes to Steve?"

I panic, worrying that my somewhat short reign as Group Leader has now come to an end. I open my mouth to come up with some response, but am quickly stopped.

"Leave three on my desk..." she says, strutting away smiling as my mouth gapes open....