Brownie
The bus had dropped her off at the Pigalle stop, and since then, Vi had been walking. Thoughtful, she had taken screenshots of the route to save her 4G data. Anyway, her destination was well-known. It was one of the most touristy neighborhoods in Paris. Whenever Vander, Ekko, and Powder came to visit her, they always went to that area. Her little sister's ritual never failed to make her laugh, though it was slightly disgusting: devouring a salted caramel Nutella-chocolate-pistachio crepe in winter, and a quadruple-scoop ice cream with strawberry, cookies, mint, and lemon in summer. What Powder consumed was usually every dietitian's nightmare.
The remaining journey wasn’t long, just 10 short minutes, and she would be at the indicated address. 10 short minutes, under normal circumstances, as Vi dragged herself painfully step by step. Place du Tertre was located in the heart of Montmartre, a neighborhood perched on the heights of the city. Normally, she had no trouble with stairs, but today, her legs refused to cooperate.
Loris and she had the brilliant idea of going all out during their leg session the day before. Vi couldn’t resist competing with Loris in squats, even though he weighed at least twice as much as she did. The result was that her quadriceps and hamstrings were as hard as stone and refused to stretch as she walked. The surrounding cold didn’t help, and Vi envied the tourists wrapped up in their scarves, looking more like untoasted marshmallows than actual humans.
At least, she had won. 125 kilos lifted with her thighs, her new record. Loris had sworn he’d never miss a leg day again and that next time, Vi would be the one eating dust.
The memory of her victory brought a smile to her face. She loved Loris and their gym sessions.
She looked up, the stone staircase stretched out before her, endless. Her smile faded.
Putain de Paris.
She painfully resumed her climb.
"Hey! Thanks for coming."
Caitlyn wore a stressed smile. As soon as Vi had sent the text to let her know she was downstairs, Caitlyn was already opening the hall door.
"Hey. Oui, no problem." Vi shivered as the wind rushed under her jacket.
"Oh, sorry! Come in, you must be freezing."
Her long hair, tied up in a ponytail, swayed against her back as she climbed the stairs. Her grey sweater, slightly low-cut, revealed pale skin and perfectly shaped shoulder blades. Vi felt a warmth rise inside her, flooding her cheeks with a bright red. Her heart was beating faster than she'd want to admit. The floor suddenly became fascinating: she fixed her gaze stubbornly on her feet until they reached the top.
Caitlyn stopped on the second floor and walked toward a dark green door with a golden handle, slightly ajar, the only one on the landing.
The first thing that struck Vi when she entered the apartment was the light, in contrast to the darkness of the stairs. Bright, dazzling, like rays of sunlight were acting as lamps. The second was... everything else. The open kitchen, modern and arranged with islands, looking over the living room. The large L-shaped sofa facing the windows, responsible for her sudden blindness. The massive bookshelf loaded with books and vinyl records. The arabesque moldings adorning a ceiling with dizzying height. The old hardwood floor perfectly waxed, with a thick pastel pink checkered rug resting on it. To the left of the kitchen, a large opening caught her attention; she could make out the shape of a bed in the distance.
The whole place was huge, bright, with a sleek yet warm luxury.
"Shit." Red was rising to her face. What the hell was she doing here? She kept her leather jacket on, ready to leave.
"Explain to me what the hell I’m doing here. You want me to believe that with... all this?" Vi gestured broadly at the apartment, which had to be worth a million. Or more, What the hell she knew about real estate?
She unloaded everything in one go, panicked at the thought that Vi, her only chance of progressing, might leave. "But it’s not my money. It’s my parents’. They hate that I’m doing pastry. They agreed to let me study this, but only if it’s for a year and if everything goes well."
Vi listened silently.
"They can see my finances, if I pay a teacher for a lesson, they’ll know. I... you’ll think this is stupid. But I didn’t want to disappoint my parents and look like a failure, I wanted to succeed without their help."
To her surprise, Vi didn’t mock her. She looked at her for a few seconds, her eyebrows slightly arched, her lips adorned with a scar forming a faint pout. In a swift motion, she dropped her backpack and jacket to the floor. She was wearing a tight black sweater that hugged the muscles of her figure perfectly. Caitlyn swallowed at the sight.
Vi picked up on Caitlyn's disjointed speech and the emotion behind it: parental pressure. She understood the struggle, the fear of disappointing and not living up to the expectations of those who raised us. Vi had been through the same thing. She hadn’t wanted to disappoint Vander. She had tried to relieve her family and ended up on a path that, deep down, didn’t completely suit her. Caitlyn, and she, as different as they were, were the same in this regard, tied by the fear of disappointing their parents, walking the delicate line of their desires.
"Shall we get started?" Vi said simply, her voice neutral.
The kitchen was a mess. Vi hadn’t wanted to believe Caitlyn when she said she was terrible. But it was clear now that she hadn’t been lying.
"Bon Dieu, I found someone worse than Ekko in the kitchen," Vi thought, balancing herself on the back of the sofa.
Flour stains had turned the black marble countertops into ski slopes. Two dirty pots, one of them emitting smoke, sat on the induction stove, evidence of burnt dough stuck to the bottom. Piles of too-runny batter, which should’ve been choux pastry, were dripping onto the paper of a baking tray. Spatulas, wooden spoons, all dirty, completed this battlefield.
"Stop, stop!"
Hand under the stove, Caitlyn froze, probably realizing how pointless it was to start cooking this mess.
"We’ll start over. My bad, I shouldn’t have had you start with something this complicated."
She stood up and rolled up her sleeves, revealing tattoos that stretched down the outside of her arms. Caitlyn didn’t miss a thing. Maybe this class wasn’t such a disaster after all.
"I’ll help you clean this up."
Caitlyn nodded, grateful. A sadness tinged with exhaustion clouded her usually bright eyes, and Vi couldn’t bring herself to leave her in that state.
"Have you ever made a brownie? Let’s start with the basics."
A negative shake of the head.
"Uh, have you ever baked a cake before school?"
Another shake of the head.
Vi swallowed the snarky comments bubbling up—something like, "Total muppet, you're not the fastest salmon swimming upstream if you thought you could go to pastry school without ever baking before"—and simply grabbed a sponge. In 10 minutes, every trace of Caitlyn’s hurricane had vanished from the kitchen.
"Good. All the ingredients are here. The recipe is here. Start whenever you’re ready." Vi’s tone was meant to be reassuring.
Caitlyn grabbed the ingredients and started weighing them. Her limbs were trembling, as if making the brownie was the ultimate challenge of her life. Vi sighed inwardly; if she didn’t intervene, her student was going to pass out.
"Why did you want to get into pastry in the first place?"
Caitlyn looked at her with wide, inquisitive blue eyes, trying to figure out if the question was a mockery. Her gaze scanned Vi, who struggled to maintain composure – cold women would be her downfall. Not detecting any malice, Caitlyn continued with her recipe before answering:
"Have you seen the chef Dominique Crenn? I've been watching all her videos and shows since I was little. I thought it was so... so incredible. My favorite part was when she made desserts; they were so beautiful."
Vi blinked. She let out a genuine laugh:
"That's one of the gayest things I’ve ever heard. You're telling me... your crush on our French chef Dominique made you want to get into pastry? I love it."
Caitlyn tilted her head and laughed too, showing off her dimples. "I know, ridiculous, right?"
Vi’s thoughts were racing: Caitlyn didn’t deny it when she mentioned the crush. Could it be that they were hunting for the same prey? She pushed the thought away to focus. Caitlyn seemed to be relaxing, continuing with her recipe, smiling, and her movements becoming more confident.
"So, why couldn’t you ever bake before?"
"It’s so... cliché. In my family, we have household staff." She shot a pointed look at Vi, who stared back, eyes wide. "Don’t say anything, I know, it’s from another time. Anyway, cooking was strictly forbidden at home. Wanted a cake? We’d ask the cook to make it. We ate, but we didn’t make."
"Wow, that’s insane. I knew you came from money, but this is..."
"I know. I can’t change where I come from, but I want... I want to try doing what I want with my life. Like a more normal person. Even though, obviously,"—she gestured at her apartment—"none of this is normal."
Her comment surprised Vi. Caitlyn was rich, ridiculously rich. Rich enough to sleep on a mattress stuffed with bills and blow her nose in them. Yet, she seemed aware of her difference and didn’t take pride in it.
They continued talking until the "BEEP" signaling the end of the baking interrupted them. Vi walked over to the oven, humming the theme from Jaws.
"The moment of truth..." Armed with an oven mitt, she took the pan out and placed it on the cooling rack.
"It’s..." Caitlyn began seriously.
"Perfect." Vi completed the sentence in the same tone.
They locked eyes and burst into laughter, a sincere, contagious laugh that filled the room. Caitlyn raised her arms and let out a victorious scream. She pulled Vi into a hug, her chin almost at Vi’s forehead in a spontaneous, warm embrace.
"Thank you, thank you!" Caitlyn exclaimed.
Vi smiled, Caitlyn's joy was adorable. She tried not to focus on the surprisingly muscular body pressed against hers.
"You see, it works, you just have to relax. Are you up for another session tomorrow afternoon?"