"Fidel sticks!"

I slammed a tin bowl on the counter. The bright white electric spinner stood at a 100-degree angle as if it waited for further instructions. My sink was full to the brim. The left side engulfed in soapy cold water with spoons, measuring cups, and ceramic bowls floating like small islands. The right side coated in failed meringue – too thin, almost an icing substance. It was sticky too.

"Why aren't you cooperating?" I yelled down into the bowl.

The super thin inanimate object stayed quiet ... it mocked me.

My royal purple apron loosened around my waist. I pulled my hair into a messy bun at one point. Ingredients – eggs and sugar hardened on my hair. Pieces of hair stood up and sideways. I leaned over the counter. My fingers covered in the first attempt and thickened with the fifth trial; the squishy substance found their way in between my fingers and in the palm of my hands' creases.

In the living room, Amadeus chilled under his artificial light, his shell dry and warm. He positioned himself directed under the "sunshine." His head hid in his shell. He was invisible to the world.

I stared at Amadeus. My eyes squinted.

"Lucky," I mumbled and let out a groan.

I glanced over to the couch to see Dottie sleeping on a pillow. Her gray face turned towards the other cushions. Her tail curled and had a small "bob" to it. Dottie transformed into a gray blob that hummed to itself.

"Really?"

The goal was to relax.

After two days of an eight- and twelve-hour shift, back to back, plus August's surprise visit, I desired nothing more than to bake and sleep. I'd been craving a citrus dessert that would put my stomach and mind at ease. I recalled my Mama's kind words that inspired me: "Lemon meringue pie. Sweet and sour. A unique taste. My mother made them every week for my father. I think of her every time I smell one."

I would be the co-baker whenever Mama created the treat. I observed from the side lines. My elbows tucked in, I wore an apron that was three times the size of my waist and hair pulled back into a ponytail. Mama would talk so quickly that I had to reach for any piece of paper – the newspaper, napkins, or receipt to write down all the ingredients and instructions. I repeated the steps back to Mama. As time went by, I started to recall the small details. Mostly the ingredients were the easiest to remember. The exact time was difficult. It wasn't in normal increments, like five, ten, and fifteen or two, four, and six. There was no pattern. Then that's how I figured out her trick. Nothing "normal." This was Great-Grandma Margaret's recipe. She made it up as she went.

When I was taller than the counter, Mama let me take over the first person's job, I also knew the process and had it down to where the baking became muscle memory.

When Mama was in the hospital, she screamed at the nurses, "I don't want nasty green Jell-O! I want lemon meringue pie."

The nurses insisted that Jell-O was the ideal dessert.

Mama would raise her arms in the air as if she prepared to punch them; however, her arms plummeted down onto the bed sheets. She looked down at her hands. Her voice dropped off.

"I want lemon meringue pie like mother's," she whispered, "I want my mom."

I stayed up until two in the morning and then went to the hospital the next day with the meringue pie. One time Mama's face lit up, "Sugar, you didn't have to!"

Other times, Mama looked up from her crossword puzzle, reading the newspaper, or watering her succulents: "What's that? I don't want that."

Then she stared at my face. She focused on the wrinkles, the annoying zits that pop up on my nose, or my caramel eyes.

"Who are you?" Mama asked.

I continued to bring the pie whenever the nurses said Mama wanted one. I wanted the same outcome from the first time. Remembrance.

"I know how to make it," I said, "Why isn't it working?"

I wiped my tears away.

The memories flooded my brain and heart. It was quick and effortless. Sometimes, I wished there was a button to click to always destroy emotions. Instead, the emotions paired with the memories. Certain memories, I laughed and sometimes collapsed because it sparked a giggle-fix. Other ones tended to make me weep. The crying made a headache throb, and I had to take a nap.

I let out a deep breath.

I pulled the apron off, tossing it on the countertop. I flopped down on the kitchen chair. My hair tie fell on the ground, the messy bun got destroyed. I licked my pink lips, my elbows were on the counter. My cell phone glowed and the clock changed.

11:50 P.M.

Is too late to call Lydia? I groaned. Yes, Monica would be sleeping. Lydia would be sleeping too. Why would you want to go and ruin their slumber?

My fingers pushed the home button. My hand hovered over the keypad, I didn't want to smear the ingredients all over my touchscreen. I clicked on Lydia's name. A small picture popped up: Lydia's smiling, her beautiful white teeth, dark complexion, and dark curls looked dazzling in the sunshine.

Maybe a quick text?

What if Lydia had the ringer on. Then I would wake her up.

What if Lydia had plans tonight with her friends?

What if Lydia thought I was a bother?

I'll text her tomorrow. I left my cell phone alone then sighed.

"Guess I should wash my hands."

I proceeded over to the overwhelming sink. The right side was my best option. The meringue tossed everywhere. I'll work on it tomorrow morning. The cleaning and baking. My stomach growled. Angry that I didn't accomplish the goal.

Using my pinkie, I pulled the lever up. Warm water came rushing out, I got soap all over my hands and removed the dried sugar and eggs.

Xylophone noise caused me to jump.

Quickly, I wiped my hands on my pants. My dirty towels had their own mess on them.

Who could that be? I don't think I put anyone's ringtone to that annoying xylophone general music.

A notification! Who was it from? No phone call. No text message. A TrueMatch message.

I frowned.

The pink logo displayed the message.

Hey, we never exchanged phone numbers. You gave me your email, but nothing more than that.

Sent 11:55 PM

I rolled my eyes. He must of created a new account - oh look at that! The account was made today.

Double clicking on his fake name, he even used one of the same photos on the Oliver account, I replied:

Whatever you say. I think you're trying to come up with excuses to get my number. 😛

Sent 11:59 PM

I literally stuck my tongue out as if he could see me through my phone.

There that should be enough.

Da-da-da-da.

There was the annoying sound again. I closed my eyes.

No excuses. It's fact.

Read 12:01 AM

I bit my tongue. I responded quickly.

If we're going to be talking about facts now. Why haven't you changed to your real name? Or are you going to pretend to be someone else with the other ladies?

Sent 12:02 AM

I forgot about my lemon meringue pie. I forgot about Mama for a moment. I forgot how sore my thighs, back, and arms were.

My attention honed in on August.

I'm not going to pretend. I'll tell the ladies after they've made it through round one, what my real name is. The reason why I didn't put it on social media.

Read 12:05 AM

Sure, whatever. Then a zoom noise happened. Another message.

You know. I didn't want any crazy fans to know my secret. I only wanted to find someone who will love me for me. Not because I'm famous.

Read 12:06 AM

I gritted my teeth. I read it with his sarcastic tone. The infliction on "only" and the cliché part "find someone who will love me for me." That was total BS. He played into the "romantic" drama idea that would make those ladies believe him.

You're not famous. I'm sorry to kick you back down to earth. It's the truth.

Sent 12:10 AM

I'm pretty famous.

Sent 12:11 AM

How would you know? You're biased. You'll say you're famous just because you're in a delusion.

Sent 12:11 AM

I'll play devil's advocate. I'll argue and say you're biased too. You want to see everything that's wrong with me. I'm sorry to tell you this, darlin'. Nobody is perfect. 🎶

Sent 12:13 AM

Did you quote Hannah Montana?

Sent at 12:14 AM

Yes, I freakin' did. Do you know why? Because she's telling the truth! 😉

Read 12:16 AM

I giggled.

I dropped my phone on the counter.

What happened? One moment, I wanted to rip his throat. Point out his wrong-doings and make him feel guilty for his decisions. For him to face his consequences.

When did the playfulness seep into his messages? He was always flirty. He had the sarcastic tone that crawled under my dry skin. My fingers got sweaty. I giggled! Over August! Wakefield! What the-

I got up from my chair and started pacing the living room.

It was just a small giggle. Nothing important. Yes. There's nothing wrong in laughing. You were probably laughing at him. Yes, that's the reason. Yes, you're okay. You're fine. You're not getting close. You're still acquaintances ... colleagues. Not friends. Not dating. You're all good, I pep talked myself.

I walked back over to my phone. Luckily, the screen was fine. My instincts took over with dropping my phone.

Sure. Let's go with that, August.

Sent 12:21 AM

Glad we can agree on something.

Sent 12:23 AM

I guess we do agree.

Sent 12:23 AM

I thought the conversation was done. I slipped my phone in my PJ pockets and walked over to the couch. I plopped down on the soft cushions, opposite of Dottie. Dottie growled when she felt the couch move.

"It's just me, Dottie."

The tiny remote positioned on the glass coffee table.

I should go to bed. But what if there's a cute, romantic television show that came out? Or movie!

I picked up the device and pressed my thumb on the home button.

To All the Boys I've Loved Before? The Paradise? Hello, My Twenties? ALL OF THEM LOOK ADORABLE! Which one should I watch? My eyes wide open. The sleepiness pushed away from my mind.

Da-da-da-da.

I dropped my arm and the remote hit the side of the couch. Now what?!

August wasn't finished with the conversation.

Sooooo ... what's your number?

Sent 12:26 AM

Will he be doing this the entire night, I thought.

Let me guess. It has a one and a five and a three in the first three numbers.

Sent 12:27 AM

Ha-ha. That's hilarious.

I rolled my eyes.

Sugar are you ignoring me?

Lollipop! Please answer.

Come on. I know you're there.

Unless you fell asleep.

I've always imagined you would tell the person you're messaging if you're going to bed.

I don't know why ... but I feel like that's just you.

Sent 12:28 AM

The messages flowed like a stream. One right after the other.

First instant, I shook my head at the thought that August has imagined me. I felt uneasy. However, his message had an innocent, sweet tone to it. At least, it did in my mind.

"I feel like that's just you." I know what you're playing at! You're not going to win.

I opened the messages so then the notifications would disappear. My thumb pressed play for one of the movies.

I feel like you're ignoring me.

HELLLOOO!!!

YOU THERE SUGA?!?!

Hahaha that's another nickname for ya.

Sent 12:30 AM

I turned my phone to silent mode. The noises started to hurt my ears.

More messages appeared on my locked screen.

Are you nervous about the shoot?

I'll be honest. I am a little.

All I ask is pour the hot chocolate on top of my head.

We don't want to damage my face. Now would we? 😉

Sent 12:32 AM

Why did you bring up the shoot, August?

I had been thinking about the documentary's expectations. The audacity that the writers wanted me to duplicate real life! Sure, they needed a drama filled tension to display how these two unlikely characters will have obstacles in the "future." But come on, why did they have to decide on replicating reality?

The expectation seemed to weigh me down. The past two days, I hadn't been able to work as efficiently.

My mind thought of every little detail: Do I have to say the exact words I told August when I first met him? What did I even say?! I can't remember anymore. It's been months! Do I have to memorize lines as if it's a script?!

My shoulders tensed up. A small twitch formed in my right eye.

My stomach groaned. I needed the citrus dessert. Comfort. The kind that a person can hold on to and never let go. Perhaps, one that soothed the stomach.

I paused the show. I couldn't dive into the plot.

Not with tweedle-dumb reminded me of the thing I had been hiding away. His words resurfaced my self-doubt. My leg bounced on the carpet.

My fingers went straight to my mouth. The teeth bit down on the cuticles.

How much do I have to have memorized? Do I adlib? What do I do?

I opened the multiple messages.

In all seriousness, I think you'll do great.

Not with the hot chocolate part.

I know you'll get the job done. You'll give 110 percent.

You always do.

You're reliable.

Thank you, Sugar.

Sent 12:35 AM

My twitch disappeared.

The thoughts seized. At least for this moment.

Is this a trick? I feel like he's being nice. I feel like this is genuine.

😘

If you need any help at all. I'm always here.

We can practice. 😉

Sent 12:36 AM

And there he was.

August was back.

Even with the nauseating flirty comments, I smiled.

513-848-143

Sent 12:38 AM

I sent my phone number before I convinced myself otherwise. Turned off my phone. And television.

Glancing over towards the failure attempts at my Mama's pie.

Let's do this.

Then I proceeded to clean up my mess.

Hello lovelies!

I wrote notes on the structure for each chapter. They are more like guidelines than set in stone. I think of the ideas as "skeletons" and I need to add muscle to them. This chapter is a great example! I wrote in my notes, I thought Sugar would have to contact her BFF.

Instead ... August kept on saying to me: FALLON! HELLOOOO??? I'm right here. I want to talk to Sugar. Why not me? Please please please please.

In the end, I listened to August. I don't recommend doing that ... all the time. ;)

He messaged Sugar or in Sugar's point of view, August annoyed her.

Although, something is slowly happening between the two. Both recognizing they're own self doubts and stress. Also, intimacy is happening???

Thank you so much for ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT! Reading, adding this story to your reading list, voting, commenting, and so much more.

I love you!

P.S. *whispers* I'm going to NYC for WattCon2018. I can't even believe I'll be attending. I'm super excited to meet my friends, learning in the panels, and buying A LOT OF BOOKS. <3

And it was a lot of fun, this is 2020 me now. :D

Thank you lovelies!