House of the Bakers
My heart was pounding agitated when I stood in front of the door and let Lydia's last words go through my mind again: 'That's all I can do for you. Now you just have to keep it rolling.' After our last meeting, I had realized that I couldn't forget about Justin. For too long I already had these feelings for him and it was unlikely they would disappear by itself. And even if it was only for a month; I finally wanted to confess what I felt for him. Therefore, I had plucked up all my courage and had decided to pay him a visit. I had learned from my mom that Justin's parents had flown to Paris for a week and his grandmother was taking care of the kids in the meantime. Visiting him now was a good time because his parents weren't there to ask questions. Once more, I took a deep breath before finally knocking on the door. It was Sylvia Baker, the grandmother, who opened and looked at me with curiosity.
"Hello," I said greeting and smiled. "I'm Sawyer Scott and I would like to see..." I didn't get any further because Mrs. Baker didn't even let me finish my sentence.
"Sawyer?" She exclaimed surprised. "You're the little Sawyer, Peyton's daughter? Come in! I just made fresh cinnamon rolls. Would you like to eat one?"
I gave a tight smile and then entered the house. "Um, thank you, Mrs. Baker, but actually I would like to see..."
"... Isabella, of course." She smiled. "You certainly can't remember me, right? When you were little, you and your mom were here very often. You always were playing with Isabella."
I suddenly remembered. Although Izzy was two years younger than me, we had always been friends; her, Lydia and me. The three 'Musketeers' who went through thick and thin. I couldn't help it when grandmother Baker took my hand and pulled me to the kitchen. There was a delicious smell of cinnamon and vanilla flavor everywhere which I inhaled deeply. "I think I'd like one of those cinnamon rolls," I said, smiling awkwardly.
"Of course. You can have some more, if you like," she said and smiled. "I know you girls always watch what you eat to stay in shape, but you are very slim."
I saw that as a compliment and smiled again. "Thanks!"
"Sit down! Would you like something to drink? Tea? Cocoa?"
I was overwhelmed by so much hospitality and enjoyed the friendly attention. "Cocoa, please."
"Tell me, what are you up to now?" She asked curiously and then poured the cocoa into two cups. "Are you still going to high school?"
I nodded, taking a cinnamon roll from the plate and began to eat. "I'm in 11th grade," I said, after I had taken a bite. "I haven't decided yet what I will do after school."
"Do you have any hobbies?"
"I like to paint and write," I told her, smiling thoughtfully. "Do you know that my dad is a writer?"
She nodded. "Of course I know that, and a very good one. I have already read some of his books."
"Really?" I looked at her in surprise. "How did you like them?"
"Very much." She took a sip from her cup. "What he writes comes from the heart. And it's autobiographical. That makes it even more authentic." She frowned. "Didn't he write the book based on the 'Ravens' TV show?" She inquired.
I nodded. "Yes, exactly. I read it a year ago and was totally hooked. It was fascinating to read about my own parents when they were as young as I am now."
She grimaced slightly. "And probably a bit shocking as well. The times were different at the time. All the talk about sex..."
Not just when our parents were young, I thought as I remembered what Lydia had entrusted to me on the phone an hour ago. Oh boy, if the old lady knew! I could only hope that Lydia's sex with Davis wouldn't have any consequences. But I had sworn that I would support her, no matter what would happen.
"Sawyer?"
Startled, I looked up. "I beg your pardon?"
"I asked if you would like to have another cinnamon roll?"
"No, thanks." I cleared my throat. "Maybe I should better go now," I said, trying to get up. But she held me back.
"Didn't you want to see Isabella?" She asked surprised. "I'm sorry if I held you up. Just go to her. She's in her room."
I gnawed nervously on my lower lip, wondering what I could reply. I didn't want to see Izzy, I wanted to see Justin. "Um, okay... thanks," I muttered. "Thank you for the cinnamon rolls and the cocoa. It was very delicious." I smiled at her again and then ran up the stairs. With a wild beating heart I stopped in front of Justin's door. What should I tell him why I'm here? My brain was suddenly blank. I had already raised my hand to knock when the door was suddenly torn open and Justin stepped out. For a moment our eyes met and I could see shock and surprise in his look. "Hi," I said softly and smiled sheepishly as I felt myself blushing.
"Sawyer?" He exclaimed in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
The question was justified, as I had to admit, and I tried to think of something to say. "I wanted to thank you for helping me on the beach," I said quickly. "May... may I come in for a minute?" He nodded and I stepped into his room. The first thing I noticed was a sheet of paper unfolded on his bed. I recognized immediately what it was. It was the sheet of paper on which I had written my poem. My mouth became dry. Wasn't it a good opportunity to tell him that I was the writer? But what would happen after that confession? Obviously we didn't share the same feelings because his gaze was cool and distant. "I... I've never really thanked you for staying with me back then when I had my accident at the cheerleading training," I stuttered. My hand trembled slightly as I brushed my hair from my forehead and showed him my scar. "It's just... just a little scar left." As he touched my scar gently, I reflexively closed my eyes and imagined how it would feel, if he would kiss me now. But the magic moment was over the moment he pulled his hand away. I opened my eyes and then lowered my head. "That's all what I wanted to tell you," I muttered. "I should leave now." Suddenly I felt so stupid. What did I do here, and what did he have to think of me now? But before I could reach the door, he took a step towards me and then stopped in front of me.
"And that's something I've been wanting to do for a long time," he mumbled hoarsely.
Did I dream, or were the lips, which I suddenly felt on my mouth, real? Finally! How long had I been waiting for this. No matter if reality or dream, I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned the kiss. It was Justin who stopped the kiss and took a step back.
"You should better go now, before I do something that we both would regret later," he breathed.
I shook my head mechanically. There was nothing he could do that I would regret. I was sure of that. My pulse quickened as he gazed at me longingly, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. Why couldn't we just give in to our feelings? Only because I was 16 and he was 21? It just was not fair!
"Sawyer, please, go now!" He pleaded again.
I nodded and then walked past him to the bed and picked up the poem. "I wrote it," I confessed to him softly, then turned to leave the room in a hurry. I quickly ran down the stairs and walked to the front door. Grandmother Baker gave me a questioning look, but I was glad that she let me go without saying a word. I quickly got into my car and drove home.
