Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The next day after work Maureen trapped me in a corner and told me I had a date. I rubbed the back of my neck. "I don't think I'm ready to date, Maureen." Dating was always especially anxiety inducing for me in the beginning and after Jeremy I felt like I just wasn't ready.
"Nonsense." She said, handing me a slip of paper, with a time and address on it. "I'll go with you after work for you to meet him. He's a friend of a friend of a friend. Some kind of video game developer or something. It'll go fine." Maureen was talking in a soothing voice but I didn't feel very soothed. "You'll sit down for twenty minutes, have coffee. If you hit it off, you hit it off. If you don't, that's fine, too."
I sighed. It didn't really seem like I had much choice in this. I would dread every moment up until then. "Make it fifteen minutes and I'll think about it."
Maureen grinned. "That might as well be a yes."
The rest of the day went well, we got a few catering orders in, and I spent most of my day piping and decorating cakes. The plan for the week was to finish decorating a geode* wedding cake. They were popular enough that we'd gotten everything down to a method. The hours melted away as Mitchell, myself and a few other workers separated the tasks on the tiered cakes. The geode cake was coming along nicely. It was four tiers of chocolate and caramel cake with swirls of varying shades of purple fondant. The gemstone designs and hand piped flowers took the most time but it really gave the cake that unique look.
By the end of day, our assistant manager stayed on to lock up and Maureen and I walked a block over to the coffee shop she'd suggested. The place was mostly empty, and smelled like fresh coffee and chocolate. We took a seat by the corner and Maureen and I chatted a bit. About work and also the love of Maureen's life, her dog, Fido. She had recently rescued a 'Bull dog mutt' that was most certainly a Pit bull and she was complaining how it was also difficult to go to the dog park because owners assumed she was a menace.
"I still can't believe you actually named your dog Fido, Maureen." I shook my head in disbelief.
"Fido is a perfectly good name for a dog. It's very distinct. I'm more worried about the fact people think she's a menace. She's adorable. Look at her!" Maureen whipped out her phone to show me pictures of her mostly black dog which had three white feet, a patch of white around the eye and the floppiest ears I had ever seen on a dog.
I rolled my eyes. "Right, okay. And you're lucky your vet even allows you to walk around with that thing." Pit bulls were very illegal in the province of Ontario. And they had been for over a decade. People just liked to pretend that they were entitled to any breed of dog.
She had been telling me about how Fido passed obedience school with flying colours but stopped mid story, looking over my shoulder and smiling. "Oh, he's here."
And then I was nervous , trying to think of how to be interesting. Thinking about how maybe it was too soon to start dating. Maybe this was all a giant mistake. I stared down at my hands until the person in front of me sat down. I was too stuck in my head to hear him introduce himself and it was when I looked up that I realized I knew him. It was the guy from the stairwell and the bakery.
Recognition filtered across his face and he gave me an easy smile, holding his hand out "Hey." He said in a warm, intimate voice. He was dressed in a red short sleeve button down shirt and fitted brown slacks. It took me a second to reach out and shake his hand. He looked so incredibly good, fuck, his face was essentially perfect. His eyes were a warm brown, with incredibly long lashes, and his cheekbones could probably cut glass. Skin like amber and oh my God I was still shaking his hand.
I let his hand go like his fingers had zapped me and Trace was smiling like I'd done something funny. Fuck, I was supposed to be composed. Okay, Darius, behave like a human being.
Maureen was snapping her head back and forth. "You know one another?"
I found my voice, after clearing it a few times. "We met at the shop. But, I guess that's the extent of things."
"Oh, well then, I'll leave you to it. Thanks again, Trace. And I'll see you tomorrow, Darius." Maureen said, squeezing my shoulder and heading out.
Trace waved goodbye and turned his attention back to me.  I had been drinking some lemonade but I was a little startled by how focused on me he was, so I put it down to avoid a choking incident.
"I didn't realize you were gay." Trace said in a light voice. "Normally,  my gaydar is a little better than that."
"Yeah, me neither. I mean, I just assumed you were straight." But, I had fantasized when Trace complimented my tattoos that he was attracted to me and maybe he was. Damn it, I wasn't sure if I wanted to look at his eyes or his mouth. What did normal people do? I focused on his eyes.
"Tell me about yourself." He said, and it almost sounded like an order. Trace practically oozed confidence.
"Well, I work at Sweets N Things as a cake decorator." I started, fiddling with my straw. "Some of the stuff we do is pretty extreme. Like, imagine Cake Boss but less Italian and more tame. It's really my entire life at this point, but things are calming down so I've been  trying to date to various degrees of success, sort of. God, I'm rambling I'm sorry." I took a sip of my lemonade and swallowed the wrong way, choking a bit before controlling myself.
Trace gave me a kind smile. "Hey, Darius, no need to be nervous. I don't think you ever noticed me, but I go to Sweets pretty often. Too often, if I'm honest. And I saw you sometimes, you seem like you work hard. I've always had an unfortunate sweet tooth, and I've probably tried everything you guys offer at your store. I have to say the apple pie is my favourite."
"You've seen me before the other day?" I said in surprise. No, this was terrible. He knew who I was when I was snivelling on the stairs, I could just die. My face felt like it was on fire and I was glad I was dark enough that he couldn't see me blush.
Trace nodded. "Yeah, not sure if you've noticed but you're kind of tall and uh— noticeable." He gave me a sheepish smile. "This is weird, and I'm sure you get this a lot, but exactly how tall are you?"
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah, I get that a lot. I'm about six foot four." I said, shaving off an inch or two. "And if your next question is, 'have you ever played basketball?' Then yeah, I played a bit in university." I had complicated feelings surrounding basketball and I hoped he didn't want to focus the conversation there.
"To be fair," Trace began. "I should probably tell you my height, too, maybe that makes it less weird. I'm five foot eleven. And I like basketball but I'm more of a runner. But, as for work, Maureen may have mentioned I'm a video game developer. I'm part of a team and my schedule can be pretty hectic. Usually, around release time. But, I've been wanting to date, too." Trace gave me a meaningful look, but I wasn't quite sure what it meant.
My nervousness eased as I took in what he was saying. "Wait, what company do you work for?"
"Playing a Role Productions." He tilted his head. "heard of it?"
I gasped. "Yeah, I've just about played all their games. Wow, so, that farming game? And the one about that guy trying to ask another guy out?" Playing a Role Productions was known for making games that were indie style but were always very customizable. They'd made plenty of canon gay, trans and even non-binary characters, along with all different types of ethnic backgrounds and races, always trying to promote diversity. The games were simple but detailed and one of my favourites had been a video game about a recovering addict who turned to baking to turn things around. That one had stuck with me. I wasn't an addict but baking had still grounded me in a way nothing else did.
Trace smiled and his eyes creased nicely. "Thanks for being a fan. The last guy I dated thought videogames were for kids and I could tell he never really respected my career choice." Trace shrugged. "But, that was a while ago. I'm gonna grab a coffee, did you want anything?"
"I'm good." I said, still finding it hard to believe that Trace was sitting there and talking to me and that we were on a real, live, actual date. I watched him as he went to the counter and took his time to order. The few interactions with Trace that I'd had, he seemed very smiley, but, as soon as he was at the counter his face was incredibly distant and stoic. Was he thinking about something? Maybe he hated everything about me, already.
A few minutes later he sat down again with a cappuccino, and a large raspberry tart. It was decorated with icing sugar and whipped cream on a large plate, with two forks. He smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't not get you anything. The barista said it was good for sharing."
I picked up a fork, thinking maybe he didn't hate me and started eating small bites. The tart was clearly made frozen and both of us frowned after the first bite and then laughed.
"You've clearly ruined me for pastries anywhere but at your shop." Trace said with a chuckle. .
"Thanks for that." I put the fork down. "And Trace...Is that short for something? I'm not saying Trace is your North American name or anything..." But, the question needed to be asked eventually. He was obviously Asian but it seemed more specific than that.
Trace leaned back, filing his hands through his dark hair. "Well, my full name is Noor Ryunosuke Tsuchida." He gestured towards his face. "As you can see I'm a little dark for a Japanese guy. My mom's Japanese and my dad is Bengali. But in Japan it's easier for halfs to take the Japanese name."
"Oh," I said in surprise. I wasn't exactly sure what Japanese and Bengali people were supposed to look like. I just imagined Asian and then maybe brown, and then I felt a little embarrassed at my ignorance.
"Back in Japan we tried to make nicknames by merging together the first and last letters of our names and I got T-R-A-S, and when I moved here I just started going by Trace. It's easier than asking people to say either of my names for some reason." Trace was curling a finger in his hair, absently. His hair was a little wavy, and for some reason I found the habit kind of cute.
"When did you move here?" He just seemed so Canadian. Big cities especially had so many different types of people, and he didn't have an accent either.
"I went to university in the states, moved to Montreal for a bit and now I'm here in Toronto. I'm really lucky Playing a Role took off the way it did because it means I can stay in Toronto longer. All things considered it's a nice place to live. Very gay friendly, but, maybe not enough Japanese people."
That surprised me. Trace had been all over. I had been born and raised in Toronto, and aside from a difficult year in the States, I hadn't really been anywhere else. "You seem like you've done a lot."
Trace frowned, pushing his fork around his plate. "Not really. The video game industry is huge in Japan but I've always wanted to be comfortably out, more than making money, you know?" His brown eyes locked with mine and I felt something charge between us. He really was attractive. I found myself watching his lips move as he talked, the pale pink that they were.
"Yeah." I said, "I know. I used to be an investment banker and I worked my way up. But eventually, there were all these benefits, and dinners, and sometimes I had guys to bring but most times I didn't. And, I could just feel the difference in how people looked at and treated me. I knew it was because they were close minded but I wished they could be different."
"I totally get you, man." Trace said while nodding.
And then I told Trace about myself, that both my parents were high school teachers and still teaching and that I had a brother. I mentioned my parents were originally from Ghana and Togo, and that I was a first generation Canadian. I was also the only gay one in my family. My father ended up being more understanding about my being gay than anyone else in my entire family. I'd developed more anxiety as a teen, as I wasn't sure when to come out and being gay came with its own set of problems. But, I didn't tell Trace about my anxiety, or my own family drama. I just talked about how I changed careers, how things were going well but I wanted to focus on myself now.
"I'm surprised you don't have a boyfriend to be honest. You're really fucking ripped, and you've got really nice eyes. When you're not overthinking, you look pretty hot. And you're really sweet, Darius."
I flushed, feeling my face get hot.
Trace only laughed good heartedly, "Damn, you're unexpectedly modest. Let's do this again properly. Maybe get dinner?" He blinked hopefully at me.
"Yes." I said quickly. Maybe too quickly at the way he smiled. "It was nice doing this with you, honestly. Thanks for helping me at the shop the other day." I swallowed. "That guy just—He just wouldn't stop talking. It was terrible. So, thank you." My face fell and it got harder to talk. "And the staircase, too. It meant a lot."
Trace nodded, surprising me by reaching for my hand across the table and squeezing. "It's no big deal. He was a fucking ass hat. You're built like a brick house, don't let people intimidate you like that. And, am I allowed to ask what got you so upset on the stairs?"
I paused, happy that Trace was so easy to talk to, but not wanting to talk about Jeremy. Trace let me hand go and he shook his head.
"Sorry, that was rude. Let's move the conversation towards something else."
I nodded, wanting that but unable to voice it.
We started talking about anything and everything, Trace talking about a new game he was working on and he listened intently when I told him about a two hundred pound cake the shop was constructing. We had already been sitting and talking for over an hour when Trace checked his phone.
"Frick, I've lost track of time." He started assembling our trash and piling things together. "When are you next free?"
I blinked, thinking. "Tomorrow."
He grinned, showing off perfectly straight, even teeth. "That soon, huh?"
I touched the back of my neck, suddenly embarrassed. "After tomorrow, I won't be free for the next little while. There's this baking competition I'm entering in a few weeks and I spend time practicing in the evenings. The shop brings some goods to Farmers Market every Saturday morning and this week it's my turn. It's usually a one person job. But, because it's boring the shop doesn't mind if we bring a friend along as long as they don't get in the way."
"Can I tag along then? Or, is that weird?"
He was looking at me earnestly with those brown eyes and I was melting. "Yes, you can come along. But, wear something warm."
"Great, I'm looking forward to our next date." Trace stood up to throw out our trash and I wasn't sure if we were supposed to hug, or kiss, or shake hands.
Trace squeezed my bicep, and that felt right. We walked together out of the shop and he was shorter than me but at a good height. It would be easy for him to wrap his arms around my neck and tilt his head up to kiss me. We got to the sidewalk and I kind of stood there, just looking at him.
He smiled. "You're staring, Darius."
I looked away, stepping back. "Well, I'll catch you later." My heart was beating fast and hard, as the wind swooped across the both of us. For a few seconds it felt like it was just us on the sidewalk, with the city as a backdrop and the future stretched endlessly before us.
Trace gave me an odd look then, licking his lips before opening his mouth and said, "I won't really be seeing you if you don't give me your number."
"Oh." I said, feeling stupid, "Right." I took out my work phone first, and then took my personal phone.
"Two phones, huh? I hope you're not a drug dealer, Darius." I froze and the smile fell from Trace's face. "It was a joke."
"Oh, right." I said slowly, feeling stupid. We exchanged numbers somewhat awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm kind of..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say and feeling like I was fucking things up. "I can get kind of nervous." I said quietly.
Trace squeezed my arm again, fingers digging in nicely. "I don't mind." I looked down at him, and the way he was looking at me, I felt seen.
"Thanks," I said. "For being so nice and all."
Trace frowned, and even like that he was gorgeous. "You shouldn't have to thank me for that. And I'm looking forward to seeing you, tomorrow, too."
I nodded, watching Trace walk away. Something about his gait was odd but then I quickly got distracted by how well his pants fit his ass, and his thighs. Then, I realized I was staring like a crazy person, taking up the sidewalk. I pulled out my cellphone, as I walked towards the nearest subway station so I could tell Maureen all about my date.