Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

All week I was supposed to be focused on baking and the random drop in interview that the Baking Beasts studio was planning. Instead, I was thinking about Trace and our upcoming date. Would he kiss me? Would he think I was a good kisser? What movie would we watch? Was Trace the kind of person who talked during the movie? Would we share popcorn?
The days blended together as the catering team focused on a small anniversary cake, and a few other birthday cakes. The most complex one was an anniversary cake for a 'Tom & Jose'. The topsy turvy cake had modelling chocolate figurines and was built upon a cereal treat structure. It was a cute, yet simple cake with sugar flowers running all along the side. It was something of a garden floral theme.
Decorating the cake made me wonder if I'd ever have a long term partner or get married some day. I'd always thought I was too awkward and self conscious to even be in a relationship. In college I had been part of a few clubs and that's always where I found my crushes and they would normally approach me.  Even Jeremy had approached me. I always got a little shy around someone I was attracted to, and even though I didn't "seem gay" it always seemed like other gay guys could tell I was. That was more than a relief considering I hated the way coming out never ended.
Most days at the shop I made and helped decorate wedding cakes and none of them ever made me feel like I needed a boyfriend or that I wanted to be romanced. But, somehow Trace sticking up for me when he didn't know me, and comforting me when I was a stranger made me change my mind. I wanted things to go well with him, but already my insecurities were ruining things. For the first time I felt like messing up this potential relationship would only prove that I was the social fuck up I was trying so desperately not to be.
#
I walked in Saturday morning to see a cameraman and my cooking idol, Aditya Singh, standing side by side in the kitchen. I gasped and the pair of them looked up.
"Oh my God." I said, "You're-"
Aditya gave me a polite smile. I kept looking at him and it really was Adityda Singh, renowned pastry chef, one of my idols and more charismatic than anyone had a right to be. He was shorter in person but also considerably more attractive, with perfectly coiffed, slicked black hair artfully streaked with silver, warm ochre brown skin and an easy smile.
God, I was already sweating. I had his cookbook upstairs in my apartment and the fan in me wished I had brought it down to ask him for an autograph. But, instead I was staring at him like a freak.
Adityda cleared his throat and I realized what I was doing.
I looked away. "Oh God, I'm staring, sorry. I'm just— kind of a fan."
He laughed, just like the way he did on Cooking with Aditya. "You'd be surprised how often I get this response. It's alright, I've gotten used to it." Even his slight Indian accent sounded just like the one on screen. "I'm here on behalf of Baking Beasts and the casting staff, because we've taken interest in your profile. Working at a bakery, not looking like much of a baker, sudden career change...It all tells a very intriguing story. And wow, you really are very tall."
He looked up at me, studying my face.
"Will it make you more comfortable if I sit?" I stammered.
Aditya frowned. "Are you usually this nervous?"
I winced, instead of replying.
"Well," he clasped his hands together, "I'll only be observing today. We'll take some shots with the camera, and you'll just need to sign a release form that says you're consenting to us taping you." He pointed to a sheaf of papers and I sat down, signing where I was meant to put my signature. The entire time I felt his eyes on me and it was making me feel weird. For some reason I really wanted to impress him.
"How old are you?" he eventually asked after I'd signed the last sheet.
"Twenty-six."
"You're lucky you have such great skin. It'll look nice on camera." He was speaking in a detached tone more like I was a product than a person, and it was somewhat disheartening.
"Oh, uh- But, it's not like I'm on the show yet." I said quietly, finally making eye contact with Aditya.
"Well," he continued. "I mean for the mini segment we'll be shooting right now. We'll set things up to start in about fifteen minutes, so if you need to do anything before baking this is a good time. I talked to the redhead manager and she said you guys are working on one of your biggest wedding cakes this year."
I nodded. "Honestly, this is an amazing opportunity and thank you so much for coming here."
Aditya gave me a dismissive wave. "It's my job, and good luck to you, Darius."
The morning passed by in a bit of a blur as we prepped in our catering corner of the kitchen. The other workers were casual so I tried to be casual as well. Aditya gave me a few tips on staying calm in front of the camera and I followed his cues to introduce myself, and talk about my baking experience. I spoke while hand piping flowers for a traditional wedding cake, and while making desserts for the shop.
I wasn't sure where it came from but I actually managed to stay cool and composed, my fingers doing everything they were supposed to do and my mouth not making a fool of itself.
Eventually the segment was over and I breathed a sigh of relief when the camera was turned away from me.
Mitchell gave me a hearty congrats and even Aditya said I'd done well. I felt like I was on cloud nine.  I hadn't freaked out, my anxiety wasn't obvious and I wasn't stuttering, sweating and shivering in a corner somewhere. Maybe I could actually do this.
Maureen was chatting Aditya up, and marketing the store while I slipped away to my apartment. I probably had time to get my cookbook so I could get Aditya's signature.
Upstairs in my apartment, I rifled through my bookshelf for the book and then looked for a pen. When I found one I scurried back downstairs and looked for Aditya. Eventually, I saw his slight figure standing by the back exit. Both he and the cameraman were standing apart with the cameraman taking a smoke break.
I went outside but immediately realized Aditya was on the phone.
"Well," he was leaning into his hand while talking, his voice ever casual. "In the past, the show's gotten a bit of heat for not having as much diversity as people want. So, between you and me, we're really trying to tick all the boxes this year."
My heart sunk, my throat closing up and I just stared at his back, waiting for him to clarify his statement.
"Well, yeah— He did seem a little nervous, but compared to the other black people who applied he's got one of the best resumes, and he photographs well. The food was surprisingly nice. He's a sweet kid. Mhmm— Yep— Okay...Okay. Alright then."
But by then I was going back into the shop. I hovered over the trash can, holding my cookbook over it. The copy was worn, with a cracked spine and several dog eared pages. I loved his Indian inspired recipes, the savoury foods and the surprising flavour combinations. I'd probably always had a little celebrity crush on Aditya, he seemed witty and so personable on screen.
I clenched the book in my hands realizing it was all just a big fat TV lie. He was just a personality, and he didn't see me as an aspiring pastry chef, just another piece of the Baking Beasts puzzle. All he saw was an opportunity not to be seen as racist as their token minority on the show. I should just throw out his fucking cookbook.
But, I couldn't let it go. Slowly, I raised it up to my chest and made my way up to my apartment, leaving the book on my kitchen counter before heading back to work. I carefully slotted it out of my mind, and went back to work focusing all my attention on anything but Aditya Singh.
#
The bakery was closed on Sundays. I thought of Sunday as recharge days where I didn't have to socialize or do anything. I normally spent the day in my boxers, crocheting while snacking on unhealthy food and watching movies. Damn, it was nearly perfect.
Except this Sunday I was unexpectedly busy, between Manny coming over for brunch and my date with Trace in the evening. I'd already chosen three different potential outfits that I would show Manny when he came over.
Knock.  Knock.  Knock.
I put down my crochet needles and started heading to the door towards increasingly impatient knocks.
I opened the door to a beaming Manny. "Hey, big D, what's poppin'?" My best friend was wearing a snug short sleeved dress shirt with light blue polka dots and a dark pair of jeans. It looked like one of his church outfits and I realized he'd probably just headed over from church. I was something an atheist, even though I'd been raised religious. Funnily enough, after I came out, my mom didn't press me to join her at church anymore and that had been a relief. We didn't talk about religion and it was easier not to.
Manny on the other hand always had a crucifix hanging around his neck, but he made sure to tell me he didn't take a lot of the bible to heart and went to church with a critical mind. We didn't talk much about religion either.
Once Manny got in and got settled he disappeared in my kitchen and came back out with a bag of cheese puffs and a large plastic bowl.
"So," Manny said while opening the cheese puffs into the green bowl. "You gotta tell me more about this new guy."
I sat down at the table, "His name is Trace. It's like a nickname. He told me the rest but it's long and I was nervous and he looks at me so much. I'm nervous, what if I like, accidentally fart during the movie and he smells it?"
"..." Manny gave me a look, pausing mid Cheeto.
"He's got these eyes? And this smile, and his skin. It's a lot. And I don't even know how to talk to him."
"Just be yourself. When I met Marisol, all I had to be was me and look at us four years later, still going strong." Marisol and Manny seemed to be a match made in heaven. Marisol was Colombian and Manny had roots in Mexico. Both being Hispanic, they had Spanish in common and a year after meeting they were married. Manny had amber skin and dark hair with a full beard and frequently sported a top knot. Marisol on the hand had short brown hair and skin even deeper than Manny's. She also had a big smile and a throaty laugh. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle and I'd always wished I could match with someone like that.
"Yeah but that's you guys, not me." I sulked. "I don't even know how to talk to him. He found my crochet needles for fuck's sake."
Manny snorted, trying not to laugh and failing, "Your needles?"
"Yeah, I must have left them lying around." I picked up my styluses to continue the hat I was crocheting.
"You're the only person I know who crochets. Man, woman, elderly woman with arthritic fingers... I don't know anybody."
"It's really calming, Manny, you should try it." I sighed,. "Trace didn't even take off his shoes when he came here. Does this place look that non-homey? Am I ugly? Is that what it is? I knew getting a fade out wasn't for me." I touched my short hair wondering if I should grow my hair into waves. Where had I even left my durag?
Manny squeezed my knee. "It's no big deal, D. You're not ugly. I wouldn't lie to you about shit like that anyways. From a strictly scientific perspective you've got that symmetry, clear skin, cool hair. Like no homo, but, you aren't ugly, bro."
"Thanks, Manny." I mumbled, turning on an old rerun of The Big Bang Theory. I put the bowl of cheese puffs between us.  "It's just— I'm like almost twenty-seven. Sometimes, I want to have a boyfriend, ykno? Someone who's not like Jeremy." My throat closed and I swallowed hard.
"He's a fucking hoe for what he did to you, D. You don't have to take shit like that." Manny's voice was soft but there was an undercurrent of emotion there.
"I just—" I took a deep breath, trying to even out my warbling voice. "I'm gay, right? And, I'm not flamboyant, I'm not outgoing, I'm not into theatre or the arts. And I'm big and I'm black. All the pieces of me don't fit together right. I don't know— How anyone would want that?" I wiped at my eye, sniffling. "Sometimes, I don't blame Jeremy. He was so understanding."
"Only at first, D, he's a shit hat." Manny said quietly, squeezing my shoulder. "And then he started..."
"Started telling me I just needed to be more outgoing, and that I was just shy, and that f I just listened to him, I could be normal." I took a shaky breath. "I already know I'm a fucking freak with anxiety that ruins my life. But, I didn't need to hear it from him." I took a long breath. "He was never going to be okay with how I am."
Manny gave me a sympathetic look, slowly eating a cheese puff.  "You know I hate being corny and shit, but it's got to be said." He paused, carefully considering his words. "You're gonna find a great guy someday, Darius. He's going to be good for you, and he'll understand all the things you don't like about yourself and he won't care. Everything about you will only make him love you more. Jeremy wasn't it, and maybe Trace is, but even if he isn't that doesn't make you unlovable." Manny arched a thick, dark brow. "Alright?"
I nodded. "Alright."
"Don't be such a crybaby, D. It'll be okay. I'm sure the date will go fine." He gave me a sly look. "Maybe ya'll can even touch butts if it goes really well."
I snorted. "Manny, you're crazy. And stop hogging all the Cheetos! You always inhale all my food. I need your advice on what to wear for my date."
"Marí making me watch project runway with her is about to come in handy, I guess." Manny said somewhat grumpily. But, he was my best friend and if I couldn't use him as a sounding board what good was he?
#
I walked into the theatre, struck by the immediate waft of buttery popcorn, and the emptiness of the entryway. There were a few small groups but it wasn't like any of the big chain theatres I'd been to. I even saw some kiosks where I could buy my tickets and snacks and was filled by immediate relief I didn't have to talk to anyone.
The walls were dark with contemporary and vintage movie posters and looked out into the concession area. I wandered a bit, noticing a few more people milling about and then I saw Trace. He hadn't seen me yet, so it gave me the opportunity to stare.
Fuck. I felt underdressed. Trace looked extremely fashionable even though he was wearing all black. He had some kind of leather jacket, black shirt, black pants and black running shoes. Everything fit him well but still showed off his musculature and he looked really fucking hot.
I felt my face getting warm as I considered my jeans and red and black plaid shirt. Damn it, I looked like lumberjack. Shit, maybe I could just walk away right then and Trace wouldn't notice.
"Darius— are you just gonna stand there?"
I blinked, and Trace was standing up in front of me, giving me a broad smile. "Hey, I like your outfit, it's nice to see you."
He gave me an impromptu hug, and he fit so perfectly in my arms I wanted to hold him forever. But, the hug only lasted a few seconds and when we moved away from each other I was flustered.
"Same." I stammered. "I mean, yeah you look very goth, too. I mean, uh, very great."
Trace's smile broadened even more. "Thanks, I'm really into streetwear lately."
—
D's outfit->
Darius' outfit is similar to this except he wouldn't expose his neck like that, the jeans would be darker and less distressed looking. He'd worry too much about getting white shoes dirty so he's probably wearing darker boots or something. You get the gist.
T's outfit->
Trace's outfit is very similar to this except he's wearing dark sneakers. Maybe the leather jacket isn't quite so long.
#
We made our way towards the concession stand and Trace asked what I wanted. We agreed to go for the combo with one extra large popcorn and two drinks with a package of skittles. The two of us juggled the snacks and Trace admitted he'd already bought our tickets and he was excited for the movie.
Of course we were seeing a zombie film that came out the month before and that neither of us had seen yet.
"It'll probably be predictable, but I'm staying hopeful." Trace said as we walked towards the theatre.
The usher gave us a blank gaze while ripping out tickets and jerking a finger towards theatre number three.
When we walked in the place was empty.
"Wow—" I said, in surprise. "Is this...ah, normal? How is this place even staying open?" There seemed to be less than a hundred seats in the room and Trace picked seats closer to the front but still in the middle.
He raised up the arm rest and put down our drinks as we got settled. "Yeah, this place is normally pretty empty, it's nice. Feels like a personal theatre, y'know?"
My heart started beating harder and then I realized how easy it would be to take advantage of the situation. Being in a cozy, dim room was the way so many things could happen.
I looked at Trace, wondering where his mind was but he was putting his phone on silent and stuffing it in his bag. However, the expression on his face was strangely grim. Trace was gnawing on his lower lip, making it look even more pink.
When he finally noticed me watching him, his face slowly bloomed red. The sudden shyness was a shock to me.
Trace took a big breath. "Don't hate me okay? But, I need to tell you something." The lights in the room made Trace's eyes look dark and soulful and almost sad.