The Bakery

Harry Edward Styles was a dork with a crooked dimple.

Aubrey Denning was a little peach with the brightest smile.

They were never really best friends, no, but they have been in each other’s lives for quite a long time.

She was not his childhood friend, one he promised to always look at platonically and swore to never fall in love with. She was more of a co-worker, if he could even call her that. They used to meet on every third week of the month, at the W Mandeville Bakery back home in Holmes Chapel. She was making all the doughs and he was manning the front counter.

They got close over none other than small chitchats about their favourite danish toppings and coffee syrups. He would help her open the spice bottles and carry heavy fruits, while she would teach him how to handle difficult customers and talk to little kids.

But that was about it. The only times they would meet outside the bakery were at her Aunt Barbara’s dinner parties or his mother’s celebratory gatherings.

He had always thought that she was out of his league, and she had always thought that he was too sweet to be true.

That was until he left home to become one-fifth of the biggest boyband today.

It had now been three years and they were reunited in London,
at a place close to their hearts however different,
the bakery.

Notes