"You're going to run a hole in the ground from all that pacing you're doing," Archer observed from his perch on top of my desk.

I glared at him, my phone clutched tightly in my friend. I felt anxious and coiled, like I was going to spring any second. "Oh, shut it, you."

He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows, but I was already so done with him that I began pacing again. I tried to get rid of all my nervous energy, but none of it was going away.

Why wasn't she calling again? Not that I wanted her to call.

Fuck, who was I kidding? I wanted her to call me. I wanted to see how she was doing.

"Seriously, Ben, if you're so worried about her, why don't you call?" Archer said after a while. "You're making me tired with all this walking."

"Why don't I call?" I repeated slowly. I looked at my phone. Lottie's name was listed under my recent calls, and it sort of made me grin when I saw the ridiculous picture she'd set as her contact image. She had taken my phone and had been trying to make me laugh with all these weird faces, but then accidentally took a picture and loved it so much that she told me that's the face she wanted me to see whenever she called me.

"Yes, Ben. Call her," Archer said, even slower than me. I scowled at his mocking expression. "You are capable of that, you know."

I hesitated, practically gnawing off my lip. "But what if she's talking to her dad or the doctor or something?"

Archer jumped off my desk and rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't call her. Let's just go to the kitchen or something, because I can't really stand you right now."

I shoved him as he walked past, and he stumbled before straightening and making an immature face at me. I sighed and followed him out the door.

One of the doors was open as we walked by, and the lady inside was talking very loudly on her phone. "Yes, yes. Two in the afternoon on the third? Yes, that should be fine. Thank you, good day."

I furrowed my eyebrows and caught up to Archer. "What's the date today?" I asked.

"It's the second of November. Why?" he asked curiously.

I swore under my breath. That mean tomorrow was Lottie's birthday, and I'd gotten her nothing. What the fuck? Why was I so stupid?

What was I even supposed to get her? I didn't really know what she liked. Well, she'd once told me she was a big fan of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. And I knew she liked sweet things. But I wanted it to be meaningful. What was I supposed to do?

I took out my phone and dialled Clark's number. "What's up, homeboy?" he said in an upbeat voice. "Cheers for not telling me you were leaving without me for two days."

I cringed. "Sorry Clark. I didn't think it would take this long."

"You're not sorry, you sketchy bastard. You know, it gets very lonely without my bestest friend around." I could pretty much hear the pout in his whining voice.

"Aw poor baby," I said in a monotone. "Suck it up."

Clark huffed. "Did you call me to bully me or do you have another agenda?"

"I don't have an agenda. I have a problem," I said.

"Ah! A problem! I'm good at those."

I massaged my temples with my fingers and debated on whether or not it was a good idea to tell him about Lottie. Because he would definitely blow it out of proportions and then pester me so much that I would literally find a way to transport my hand from my phone to his just to throttle him.

"What's the dealio Benjamin Button?"

"It's Lottie's birthday tomorrow," I said, and then immediately yanked the phone from my ear, because Clark had started screeching.

Archer glanced at me and then at my phone. "Your friend is a weirdo."

I nodded and stared at my phone, wondering how his lungs had that much capacity. "Are you done?" I asked flatly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said loudly, affronted. "Why'd you wait until the day before?"

"Because I forgot!" I snapped.

"You're a horrible boyfriend."

It took me a minute to process that, and my entire face became hot. "I am not her boyfriend!" Archer nudged me at that and winked. I flipped him the bird.

"Yeah, you wish you were."

I refused to respond to that. Anything I could say wouldn't help my case at all.

"Okay, so you forgot her birthday. Who cares? It's tomorrow, not today."

"I didn't get her anything," I said through gritted teeth. "That's the problem. I need your help."

Clark hummed on the other end. "I don't know. A necklace or something? Maybe a locket, and put my picture in it."

"Why the hell would I put your picture?"

"She likes me more," he said, chuckling.

I snorted. "No she doesn't. And I don't want to do that. That's too cliché."

"Ah, so Benjamin Fisher wants to get his beloved something unique. Because that's an original thought."

"You're no help, I'm hanging up!"

"Okay, bye best friend!"

I muttered a bye and ended the call. Archer darted into the kitchen and started yelling for Miss Franny.

"Benjy," she said, materialising in front of me. "Why the long face?"

I looked at her and pouted. "Miss Franny," I said, my tone bordering on a whine, "I don't know what to give Lottie for her birthday."

She laughed. "Are you joking? That girl is so kind. Even if you get her a box of dog treats, she'll treasure it because it's from you. It doesn't matter what you get."

"But I want it to be special!" Of course I wanted it to be special. I fucking...I fucking loved her, okay? It couldn't be just any old thing.

Her eyes twinkled and she smiled mischievously. "How cute!" she cooed, jumping forward to pinch my cheeks. "That's so cute, my Benjy is flustered over how to shop for a girl!"

I pried her hands off of me and massaged the redness out of my face. "None of you are any help," I muttered.

"Well, what does she like, Benjamin?"

I frowned. "Sweet things. She's a writer as well. Uhm...she likes things that cuddle. And Cartoon Network." I'd thought about getting her a kitten or a puppy, but I couldn't when she lived in a dorm.

"She likes sweet things?" Miss Franny asked thoughtfully.

I scoffed. "Oh yeah. She would live off sugar if she could."

"Then why don't you bake her something?"

I leant against the countertop and frowned. That was a really good idea, but... "I can't cook for shit, Miss Franny."

She rolled her eyes. "You can follow instructions, can't you?"

"Yeah."

Miss Franny beckoned to me and I followed her over to the back counter where she kept all her cookbooks. She took one of them out and frowned as she flipped through the pages. "What flavour does she like most?"

"Chocolate."

She grinned and handed the cookbook over to me, which was open to a page that had a picture of a chocolate cake covered in fancy chocolate frosting and chocolate flowers.

"I can't do this!" I said, shaking my head. "I can barely even toast my bread in the morning. How am I supposed to make this?"

"The cake is simple, Benjy. And I'll help you make the frosting. Don't worry about it, I know Charlotte will love you for this."

My heart did the equivalent of a stammer and I shook my head. I'd worry about if she'd like the cake first. I'd worry about her liking me later. "Okay," I said quietly. I could do this, because it was for Lottie. She deserved it and much more.

Miss Franny stared at me for a moment. "You were right, that girl really does make you happy, doesn't she?" Because that was what I had whispered to her that time when she first met Lottie. That Lottie made me happier than anybody else I knew.

I turned my face away so she wouldn't see my constipated expression. "Yeah," I said, shrugging nonchalantly. I laid the book on the counter and scanned the ingredients. "Do you have all of this stuff?"

"Of course I do. You just wait here and I'll bring it to you."

"But Miss Fra-"

"Just wait here!"

***

Twenty minutes later, I squinted at the instructions. "What does 'cream the butter and sugar together' mean?" I muttered. "Isn't cream a noun? Why is it being used as a verb?"

Archer leant over the book. "I think it means mix it or something."

I stared at the solid chunk of butter just sitting casually in the middle of the mixing bowl. "How do you mix butter?"

Archer shrugged. "I don't know, man. Ask the Franster."

I looked over at Miss Franny, who was cooking dinner. "She's busy."

"Call Charlie then."

"That's suspicious though. Why would I call her just to ask how to cream something?"

He rolled his eyes. "God, you're acting like such a girl! Give me your phone."

"What? N-" Archer cut me off by yanking it out of my apron pocket. Yes, I was wearing an apron. Yes, it was Miss Franny's. Yes, it was covered in flowers. Who cared?

"Hello? Charlie? Hey, what's up?" He listened for a while and glanced at me, winking when he saw how furious I was. What the fuck? "Yeah, I just have a question for you. What does it mean to cream sugar and butter?" He listened for a bit more, and I scowled darkly, crossing my arms. "Okay, sweet. Thanks Charlie. I'll see you soon. Yeah, okay...bye!"

He clicked off my phone and handed it back oh-so casually. "I'm gonna fucking eviscerate you," I said.

"Charlie said that creaming means when you kind of mash up the butter and the sugar together until it becomes super smooth and creamy. She said to do it with a fork."

"Anything else?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at the cheesy grin he wore.

He laughed. "This is really lame for me to say, but she said to remind you that you're a lovely person."

I uncrossed my arms, blinking sheepishly. I felt the anger roll out of me. Fuck, I missed her. She hadn't even been gone that long and I missed her. I was going soft. Fuck. Damn.

My eyebrows furrowed and I sighed slightly. I grabbed a fork from one of the drawers and started mashing up the butter and the sugar. "This is nasty," I said to distract myself. But her pretty face kept popping up in my mind, and I kept remembering what it was like to kiss her.

"It looks like...I don't know what it looks like, but probably something gross."

I finished creaming the butter and sugar and pushed it aside. "Now what? Er...dry ingredients. Okay, okay, flour-fuck!"

Archer laughed at the powder that now coated the front of my shirt. I muttered curses as I brushed it off and tried to open the flour bag again.

"This is so annoying! It's getting everywhere!"

"Maybe start with salt?" Archer suggested.

I made a face and grabbed the teaspoon measurer and the salt. I tried to nudge in only a small amount, but OF COURSE I HAD TO SPILL OUT LIKE A WHOLE CUP.

By now, I was super pissed off and didn't want to do this anymore, and the way Archer was trying to hold back his laugh made me want to smash his face into that nasty butter-sugar thing.

"How's it coming along, Benjy?" Miss Franny called from across the kitchen.

"Just splendidly," I said through gritted teeth. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists. Why was I doing this again?

A warm smile and a pair of big green eyes popped up in my mind.

Oh. Yeah.

I breathed in deeply to try and get rid of my impatience, and then looked at the cookbook again. Once all the dry ingredients were in a different bowl, I tried to mix them together, but I must've jerked too hard or something, because a good amount of the ingredients jumped out. How did Lottie do this shit?

"God fucking dammit!" I growled, slamming my hand against the counter.

"Ben, calm down."

I stared at my brother and tried to breath. This wasn't going well. I didn't enjoy this. I wanted to stop.

But I didn't, because I wanted to make Lottie something for her birthday, or so help me I would strangle myself.

I breathed in deeply and cracked my knuckles. "Okay...okay, okay, okay. Milk? I can do milk. Milk is good. Okay, okay, okay, sweet."

"Wow, you didn't spill any of it," Archer said, impressed.

I felt a little bit better now that I had managed not to drop at least one of the ingredients.

But then finally, finally, everything was mixed and put into two prepared pans and shoved into the oven, and I collapsed on the floor in one big heap. I let out a loud, relieved groan. That had been the worst hour of my life. I would never do this again.

Archer peeked at me. "Miss Franny said you can use the prepared frosting if you'd like, and she'll just show you how to make the roses with it."

"Okay," I said tiredly. "If you say so." He grinned at me, and then wandered off to who-knows-where.

When the timer dinged half an hour later, I opened the oven and stared at the two trays. The cakes looked pretty good, to be honest. I was proud. But then I frowned. How was I supposed to take it out?

I turned off the oven and waited for a couple of minutes to see if it would cool. "How do I do this?" I said to myself.

A towel was thrust at me, and I grinned at Miss Franny before carefully pulling out the trays and putting them on the counter. "Wait for them to cool, and then you can decorate it," she said. "I made some chocolate ganache, and there's some raspberry jam in the fridge for you to put in the middle."

I stood up and scratched the back of my head. "Thanks, Miss Franny."

She shook her head affectionately and patted my arm. "They look great, Benjy. Now take them out of the trays."

I pursed my lips. "How?"

"What do you mean, how? Just flip it upside down and it should slide right out. You did butter the trays, didn't you?"

I stared at her for a minute until her face changed into an annoyed expression. I started laughing. "I'm just playing. Of course I did."

Miss Franny smiled widely. "I haven't seen you like this in years."

I cupped my elbows with my hands and shrugged, looking away. My face grew hot at her words. "It's whatever," I said.

She decided to drop it, and just showed me the small conical bag in her hand. "This is a piping bag. It's got a little tip so that you can make designs, like those roses in the book. Here, let me show you."

She took out a piece of parchment paper and held the paper like a pen, but with both hands. She gently squeezed, and moved it in a circular motion, and when she pulled back, there was a perfect little chocolate rose just sitting there.

I gaped. "Wait, can you do that again? I blinked."

Miss Franny rolled her eyes and did it again. "Now you try."

I took it, but it was really small in my hands. I tried to hold it like Miss Franny, but I didn't know how to hold it and squeeze at the same time.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, when my first try turned out like a demented looking version of hers. "Let me try again."

Miss Franny waited patiently as I tried and tried and tried again, and subsequently failed and failed and failed again.

"This one doesn't look too bad," I said unsurely, pointing to one that was a little too big and a little too crooked, but was still recognisable as a rose.

"Benjamin, it's fine. You know how to do it. The cakes should be cooled now, so you just have to put it together." Miss Franny patted my arm and walked off to go finish making dinner.

I bit my lip and looked at everything in front of me. There was a carton of fresh raspberries, a jar of raspberry jam, a bowl of chocolate ganache, a bowl of whipped cream, and a bowl of chocolate frosting. I cracked my knuckles and gently put the first layer of cake on the cake stand.

First I awkwardly spread some raspberry jam on it, but I accidentally stabbed the cake a good few times. Then I kind of flung the whipped cream on top of the jam and spread it out with my palm. I might've accidentally melted it with my body heat, though. Oops.

"Benjamin!" I glanced up from drizzling the chocolate ganache on top the cream. It was my mother. I'd sort of forgiven her after she'd spent all of about ten minutes apologising to me and asking for my forgiveness. I figured she meant it. I knew it wasn't her who had a part in kicking me out. Dad was a force to be reckoned with, and I didn't blame her for not being able to convince him otherwise. Plus, she was my mother. She'd given birth to me. Raised me.

"What's up, Mum?" She looked confused when she saw me in the apron, but I just raised my eyebrows. I didn't look that bad. In fact, the florals looked really good on my skin tone.

When she didn't reply for a solid minute, I went back to my masterpiece. I really carefully placed the second layer of cake on top of the first and almost yelled in rage when part of the filling squeezed out of the sides and dripped down.

"Shit," I muttered. I glared at it for a few seconds, but then got over it and started the dump all of the chocolate frosting on top.

"Benjamin," Mum said again. "When you're finished, could you come back to my office?"

"Why?"

"Your father wants to talk to you."

I froze and almost stabbed the cake with my knife. He wanted to talk to me, did he? Well I didn't want to talk to him, not after all that shit he'd said to Lottie. "Whatever," I said.

"Will you come?" she pleaded.

I could feel a vein pulsing in my forehead. "Yeah," I said, trying my hardest not to be short with her.

She was quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry, darling," she said softly, and then I heard the click of her heels as she walked away.

I bent my head down and felt my eyes burn. "Me too."