Sweet Revenge: The Baker's Harem

The campus golden boy wanted cake. So I baked him egg cakes from scratch.

He ate one, called me cute, and an hour later he put me up for sale on his story.

Preston: [Dating the broke scholarship girl is getting old. Thinking I'll trade her in. Floor-model girlfriend, free to a good home. Comment +1 if you want her.]

His friends lined right up.

[+1]

[+1]

[+1 lmao]

He thought it was the funniest thing. "Look at them," he said. "Such good sports."

My phone would not stop buzzing. Forty new follow requests. Then sixty.

I opened every one and sent the same thing.

Me: [Hey. Want an egg cake? Five bucks, delivery included.]

Chapter 1

I screenshotted every [1] under his post and sent the whole thing to Preston.

He called inside a minute.

"It's a joke," he said.

A minute after that, the post was gone.

I lay in my dorm bed and turned it over. Then I asked anyway.

"Do you actually want to give me away?"

He made a sound through his teeth.

"Please. Them commenting is them doing me a favor. Not them wanting you." A beat. "Have a little self-awareness. If your face weren't halfway decent, you'd be less fun than a plank."

He hung up.

So that stung. A little. Not the plank part. The part where, fine, he didn't want me, he could have at least wanted the egg cakes.

A boy like Preston keeps a ledger. He remembers who walks, and he makes them pay for it. So a girl like me doesn't just leave a boy like that. If this ever ended, he would have to be the one who ended it. He would have to think it was his idea.

That was fine. We were never from the same world anyway.

* * *

The day we met, I was selling egg cakes at the school gate.

He climbed out of a car worth more than the building and pulled a bouquet from the trunk. Then he walked up to Regan, the girl the whole finance department watched, and told her she was his.

It was a beautiful picture. Tall boy, gorgeous girl, two dozen roses.

Regan dropped the roses in the dirt and gave him the finger.

Preston's face cracked. He spun around and pointed at me, the nobody eating it all up from the curb, and pitched his voice for the whole quad.

"There's a limit, Regan. Don't think I can't do better. Any girl off the street would treat me better than you."

Very lord-of-the-manor. My toes curled in my shoes.

Then I got a real look at the roses on the ground.

They weren't roses. They were hundred-dollar bills, rolled and folded into petals. A quick count put it at two weeks of sales, face down in the dirt.

My eyes went straight.

I walked over and smiled up at him, sweet as anything.

"Baby. I'm the girlfriend you've never met."

I told the director I had a boyfriend now.

She called me right back. Mama ran the group home that raised me, and she worried about me in her own way.

"Juni. Can you feel love yet?"

"Love? Don't think so." I gave it a real think. "But I'm happy with him."

He was rich. I was happy.

"That's all right. You're not like the other kids. What you want comes first." Her voice went soft. "But promise me one thing. The minute you stop being happy, you leave him. Okay?"

"Okay, Mama. Next time I'll bring egg cakes for the kids. I'll bring him too."

Preston was never setting foot in that group home. But that was a problem for later.

I'm a plain, honest person. I don't do sweet nothings. I work the details instead.

Yesterday was Regan's birthday. She posted a photo holding a cake, eyes shut, mid-wish. Preston commented under it.

Preston: [Want some little cake.]

Lucky me. Egg cakes are my whole life.

Golden on top. Soft through the middle. Still warm when you bite down, and the smell gets into everything.

I had regulars across three campuses and ten group chats full of them. One year of this paid for four years of tuition, with money to spare. Nobody at that school knew it. They saw a girl at a folding table and stopped looking.

His Highness has a delicate palate, so I was up before the sun.

Fresh eggs from the morning market. Wild honey from the beekeeper. I even gritted my teeth and bought the imported sugar and milk.

I packed the egg cakes warm and half-ran them to his classroom.

He saw me sweating in the doorway and smiled. Then he opened the box in front of his whole class.

Heat and the smell of fresh egg cake rolled across the room.

"What is this?"

His eyebrows went up before he could stop them.

I took a good sniff. Proud of my work, honestly.

"Little cakes," I said. "You wanted some. Go on. Tell me if you like them."

A laugh cracked somewhere in the back row. Then another. Then they all landed on Preston's face and died.

His expression moved through about four things.

Then he looked at me, and swallowed every single one.

Chapter 2

"Juniper." His jaw was tight. "You're really... damn cute."

I sat on my bed after and went flat.

Six months of dating. I hadn't made one dollar off it.

An honest girl shouldn't dream of getting rich overnight. That one's on me. My life hadn't improved an inch, and now I had his moods to manage on top of it all.

The plan had been to get Preston to help me move egg cakes. But Preston thought egg cakes were beneath him. So his stuck-up friends would think so too.

I'd just shut my eyes when the phone lit up.

Regan.

A photo. Two perfect fingers, holding one of my egg cakes with a single bite gone.

Regan: [Not bad.]

When Preston and I first started, he zipped me into an expensive dress and had someone do my hair. Then he took me to meet his friends.

Good family, him. A whole pack of friends just as loaded.

"Don't be nervous. It's just dinner. They're nice." He'd smiled wide. "I've got the cutest girlfriend in the room. They're all jealous. They begged to meet you."

They were not jealous. The second I sat down, the room dropped ten degrees.

Regan most of all.

Before me, Regan was the only girl in Preston's orbit. Pretty. Brilliant. And her family didn't just have money. They had the kind Preston's people needed to keep their own doors open.

She looked at me once and smiled.

"Preston. You actually brought her out?"

His face fell. He didn't say one word to me the rest of the night.

After that it got strange. Any time I was in the room, Regan showed up in my exact colors. Same shade, head to toe.

I told Preston, gently, that I'd rather skip the dinners with her.

The corner of his mouth curled. Smug. Almost pleased.

"Don't read into it, Juniper. Regan's far too proud to bother with you." Then, lower: "Never thought I'd see the day she had regrets."

So Regan praising my egg cakes was the last thing I saw coming.

I was still deciding whether to answer when the next one came.

Regan: [Ten boxes a day. For a month.]

Students paid five dollars a box.

For Regan, I went straight for the throat.

Me: [Five dollars. Each.]

She wired it before I finished the thought. No haggling.

Regan: [Ten to a box. Bring them to this address.]

* * *

Regan had an estate off campus.

I came up the drive with the bags cutting into my hands, and she reached for them. Then, like it was nothing, she turned my palm over and rubbed the red line the handles had left.

"I didn't realize ten boxes was this heavy," she said. "Next time I'll send the driver."

"Oh," I said.

I'd come braced to be humiliated. Clearly I hadn't braced hard enough.

She lifted out one box and handed the rest to her housekeeper to pass around. Standing in all that marble, I had nowhere to put my hands.

"I'll get going, then."

She stopped me. Took a cream cake out of the fridge.

"Eat. It came today."

Her eyes were very pretty. I sat back down like something else was steering me.

It was the first cream I'd ever had.

Sweet. Smooth. Gone before I understood it.

So that was what Preston had wanted.

I dropped my eyes to my lap. "I didn't know. I've never had this kind of thing."

Egg-cake money is hard money. I'd been poor long enough to be scared of it, so I didn't spend. I saved every dollar.

Regan finished one of my egg cakes and nodded, pleased. Then she reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Not your fault. Preston's a useless lump. What's the mouth even for, if he can't get one sentence out straight."

Her hand smelled like something soft.

And she said it so nicely.

Chapter 3

It took me a second to catch that she was talking about Preston.

"You don't like him?"

Regan made a small, scornful sound.

"What's to like? Did he feed you some story? He's got nothing, and too much pride to admit it, so he invents better people who supposedly want him. Makes himself feel taller." She looked at me. "He can't even bake an egg cake. He's not worth one strand of your hair."

She walked me to the door. Smiled.

"You coming back tomorrow?"

The praise had gone to my head a little.

"Yeah. Yeah."

Preston's car rolled up right then. He saw the two of us and stalled out for a second.

Then he grabbed my wrist and looked me up and down.

"Why are you here? Did Regan give you a hard time?"

Regan rolled her eyes and slammed the door.

"What catfight are you dreaming up? As if you're worth one." A beat. "Get lost."

When he found out I'd been dropping off egg cakes, he scratched his head.

"Regan eats that tacky little snack? She only likes trendy stuff."

He shrugged it off.

"Whatever. Bowie's bar opens tonight. You're coming."

I don't like loud places.

"But I've got my stall tonight"

His face went cold before I finished.

"Juniper. Am I asking your opinion? You're not some heiress. Drop the attitude." He pulled into traffic. "Who's buying that junk you sell, anyway? If it weren't for me, you couldn't afford one drink in this place. Let's go. Don't kill the mood."

So I put my head down and apologized in every group chat, one by one.

* * *

Bowie was the richest of all of them, so half the city turned out.

The music hit like a wall.

"Yo. Preston brings his little girlfriend everywhere now?"

Some guy drifted over, grinning, and held a drink out to me.

Preston put a hand up and blocked it.

"She's shy. She doesn't drink. We'll play, you and me."

"Look at you. Pulling the block-the-drink move?"

"Heh. And she still snaps at me all day. Ungrateful little thing."

They wandered off, laughing at nothing.

I picked a corner and sat in it. Hungry. Bored.

The couch sank on one side.

I turned. Bowie.

Black sleeveless shirt, the kind of build that took up room. Red hair under the lights.

"Didn't think you'd come."

He leaned in and set a glass of orange juice in front of me.

"I was up there on guitar a minute ago. You catch it?"

The whole place was a blur of noise. I'd caught none of it.

I nodded anyway.

"Mm. Yeah. Real, uh. Real passionate."

"Too many people tonight." He let the lie slide. "I'll play for you next time. What do you like?"

I barely knew Bowie.

The first time we'd met, he had red hair and a face cut sharp at every edge, flashy, looking down at the whole world from somewhere above it. The flashy ones make me want to study my own shoes. I'd kept my head down and hadn't dared look at him.

But he'd attached himself to me somehow. Every time the group got talking, a question would come at me out of nowhere. Did Juni like this dish. Was I more a Western food or a Chinese food person. What music did I listen to, rock, jazz? Never heard of that one. Fine, he'd get me some Broadway tickets, then.

The richest people Preston knew were supposed to look down on me. Regan had tucked my hair behind my ear. This one wouldn't stop putting things in my hands.

Preston had sworn his friends would never take to me.

So far, he was the only one who hadn't.

Chapter 4

Preston got loud-drunk with a few of the trust-fund boys, all of them talking over each other about nothing.

Bowie came close. The grin slid off his face.

His pinky hooked into my palm.

"The egg cakes were really good," he said. "I want one right now. Take me to get some?"

I hesitated, my thumb over the scooter app.

Preston had said some ugly things tonight. That still didn't make it right to slip off behind his back with one of his friends.

But I was running low on reasons to care.

Preston wasn't smart. He wasn't kind to me. He had money and almost never spent it on me, and he wouldn't touch a single thing I baked.

Lined up like that, his opinion stopped weighing much.

"Juni, I can't ride a scooter." Bowie looked genuinely pained about it. "I only drive."

Fine. I'd haul His Highness myself.

He folded onto the back and looped one arm loose around my waist.

"Lucky night."

"Yeah. Lucky there's no cops out. Twenty-dollar ticket otherwise."

A low laugh came from behind me.

"Right. We're lucky."

* * *

The little house near campus had all my egg-cake gear in it. There was even some of Regan's leftover stock sitting out.

Bowie washed his hands and pitched in. He actually knew what he was doing.

"My mom's a food influencer. Practically lives in the kitchen." He said it before I could ask. "I picked up a lot."

With an apron on, even the red hair started to look like husband material.

"You're good at this," I said, and meant it. "I love a guy who can cook."

"It's stuffy in here. Your face is all red. Go wait outside, I've got it."

Bowie fled.

I worked through the batter on muscle memory and got the oil going. The smell came up fast.

I carried the warm egg cakes to the table.

Bowie breathed in and shook his head.

"Preston's actually broken in the head. Who comes home and doesn't want one of these? Warm. Soft." He let out a breath. "This is the good life."

That got me, somewhere I wasn't ready for.

I looked at him, eyes gone soft, and smiled wide enough for both dimples.

"Thank you."

Bowie made a sound like he'd swallowed wrong.

I grabbed a glass, poured him water, and reached up to thump his back.

The second my hand landed, his throat worked.

His voice dropped half a register.

"Don't thank me. I mean it. This is the good life."

When the egg cakes were gone, Bowie made no move to leave.

"Juni, I've been drinking. Can't drive. Can't ride a scooter." He spread his hands. "I can't exactly walk home. Come on. Let me crash one night."

Made sense to me. I set him up on the couch.

Bowie talked nice and looked nice. The whole house looked better with him parked in it, peeling paint and all.

Preston hadn't lied, then. His friends really were great.

I'd just started to get sleepy when Preston finally called.

He still hadn't noticed I was gone.

"Juni." The words slid into each other. "Don't wait up. Just cab it. Cab home."

I pressed my mouth flat and hung up.

He'd dragged me out to fill a seat. Wouldn't even cover my ride home.

Cheap.

How did one handful of cash ever turn my head?

I stared at the phone, not smiling, not saying anything.

Bowie shifted closer. His voice went gentle.

"Preston posted something a few days ago. Did you see it?"

Chapter 5

I nodded.

"He said it was a joke."

Bowie paused. Something dark moved through his eyes.

"He talks to women like that all the time. Hides behind his family name and does whatever he wants. No telling how many girlfriends he's run off." His jaw set. "He was about to throw what you made straight in the trash. I grabbed the box before he could."

He looked at me.

"I've been single a long time. But even I know a girlfriend is someone you're good to. When he makes you feel small, you come talk to me."

I caught the scent of a sale and sat up straight.

"You like egg cakes?" I said. "Want to think about a monthly plan?"

I pulled up my referral link and held the screen out to him.

Bowie nodded, hard.

"Love them. Egg cakes are my favorite thing."

I smiled, fully satisfied.

Who turns down egg cakes?

Big client locked. I went to bed a happy woman.

* * *

The house was one story, so I heard the engine clear as anything.

Early the next morning, Preston's car pulled up outside.

I rubbed my eyes, got up, splashed my face.

When I came out, Preston was already talking to Bowie.

"Those guys swore it had been forever and poured drinks down my throat all night. We barely even know each other. You're the one who's tight with them." A pause. "Thanks for getting my girlfriend home, man. I worry about Juni out here alone."

His hair was a mess and he reeked of last night.

He set a bag of breakfast on the table and turned to look at me.

His eyes caught on my collarbone.

"What's on your neck? It's gone all red."

I put my hand over it. "Mosquito."

"What a dump. Only you could live in this." He waved it off, irritated. "Fine. You're clearly okay, so I'm out. I've got something to deal with at Regan's. I'll come by later. Behave. There's nothing going on with us. Don't make a thing of it."

I nodded, good as gold.

"Mm. I believe you."

The one with something going on with Regan was me, after all.

The engine faded down the street. Bowie gave me a nod too.

"I'll head out, then"

"You did that last night."

I pointed at my neck.

Bowie went still. For the first time, the grin dropped off him for real.

"Do you mind?"

I nodded. I meant it all the way down.

"I do. I only like people who are straight with me." I held his eyes. "You could have just asked."

* * *

Two big clients, and my whole quality of life shot up.

After Bowie bolted from my kitchen that night, he came back around and started reporting in. Every day.

Bowie: [Afternoon tea. Any pastries you like? I'll bring some next time. My mom made them.]

Bowie: [Juni. Went to the library today. Sun's really nice out.]

Bowie: [Preston wanted to come too, but someone dragged him off to drink.]

The man in the newest photo had cut his hair short and dyed it back to black. Black-framed glasses. A loose coat over all the muscle. He actually looked kind of bookish.

I caught myself smiling and sent back a sticker.

Regan tucked a strawberry between my lips.

"What color dress do you want for the next dinner? I'll have it made ahead."

"Something casual?"

"Done."

Regan close. Bowie close. I took all of it.

What I feel comes first. Mama raised me on that.

Being with them was easy.

All of it.

Chapter 6

I was so grateful to Preston.

Without him, I'd never have met people this good.

I was leaving Regan's when the class rep texted me.

Class rep: [You failed econ.]

The sky fell.

Preston picked me up, caught my face caving in, and snorted.

"Econ? August teaches econ."

August had more degrees than anyone in the group. Preston couldn't stand him.

"That kind of bookworm. Good for charming somebody's grandparents and nothing else. Out in the real world? Useless." He shrugged. "He ran a study session for us once, at his place. Different school, but whatever. I'll drop you."

Bad luck. The rain came down halfway there.

Just getting from the car to August's hillside place left me soaked through.

"It's coming down too hard. Not safe to drive back. Stay the night."

Preston nodded, found a robe, and went to shower.

August handed me a robe too. It hung off me, loose.

A knock.

"Come in," I said.

I was straightening the robe, head down, sure it was Preston.

The door clicked shut behind me. August's voice.

"I've never had a girlfriend. There are no women's clothes here. Wear mine for now." A beat. "Leave the wet things. I'll have a new set sent over tomorrow."

He crouched and gathered the wet clothes off the floor.

His fingers stopped on one piece.

My underwear, dark with rain against his hand.

He didn't put it down. His thumb dragged over the wet fabric once, slow, like he'd lost track of the fact that I could see him do it. This was a man who lined his books up by height. He hadn't looked away from it yet.

"I saw you take Bowie home the other day." His voice came out level. His hand wasn't. "He's all flash. Nothing under it. He only plays sweet when you're watching."

I turned around to face him.

The robe was his and it was too big and the room had gone warm. I knew exactly where the door was. I didn't move toward it. He watched me not move toward it, and something behind his face came loose.

He crossed the floor and stopped close. Close enough that I had to tip my chin up to hold his eyes.

"Preston's down the hall, dead asleep," he said, low. "He won't come looking. He never does."

His hand came up and moved a wet strand of hair off my cheek. It wasn't steady, and he let me feel that it wasn't.

"Tell me to go," he said, "and I'll go."

I didn't.

* * *

The next day was clear.

We drove from August's to the group dinner.

I'd put on a pale blue dress. Regan turned up in a blue shirt, a black blazer over one arm.

Preston's eyes trailed over her, then slid back to me, needling.

"Juni. We've known each other this long and you're still jealous?" He smiled. "A girl with her background. One dress of yours was never going to close that gap."

I was getting tired of it.

I'd told him a hundred times that wasn't what I meant. He never once heard it.

Regan came over and took my hand.

"Ignore the noise. Sit by me."

"Since when are you two like this?"

Preston blanked. Then he turned, saw Bowie, and his eyes went round.

"Bowie? What the hell happened to your hair?"

Bowie lifted a lazy hand and rubbed the black.

"Someone didn't like it."

Preston laughed, big and showy.

"Come on. Who'd dare turn Bowie down? With our kind of money, since when do we care what a woman likes?"

August's look said a great deal.

"People who never offer anything real don't get anything real back."

"Okay, what is with you two? You keep saying things I can't follow."

Regan sat on my left. Bowie dropped in on my right. August squeezed in next to Bowie and got busy filling my water and sliding fruit onto my plate.

A wide empty stretch opened up on both sides of Preston.

Nobody was looking at him, so he raised his voice.

"Same rules as always. Truth or Dare. Let's make it interesting." He grabbed the bottle and spun it. "When's the last time you slept with someone?"

The bottle slowed.

It stopped on August.

Chapter 7