Something I can not do. Also, something that I have to do today.
It’s time to cook. Well, time for Harry to cook. Harry and I are in the middle kitchen and in front of us are Emma and Lucus. Lucus is Emma's 'friend’. I mean we all know they’re dating. It’s very obvious. Even Harry thinks so, and they’ve only known each over for half an hour. Lucus and I have only met a couple of times but he has only ever been nice to me.
Moving away from the boy talk, the venue is very pleasant. It’s on this type of hill and has a cream coloured gazebo. The kitchen’s colour themes are all different. Ems and Lucas’ are red and Harry and I’s are orange.
Harry looks very confident about this. A little too confident, as if we were to win. I, on the other hand, am a nervous wreck and I swear I can see my heart beat out of my chest. My hands are clammy and shaky. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to do this. Unless, this is another way to try and kill me, which he already said I’m a nice person so I’m guessing not. That’s not my final answer though.
“You alright, love?” Harry asks whilst tying his apron on. I nod. The answer is so very obviously no. I’m going to end up killing someone whilst trying to chop something, and if I don’t kill them like that, I’m sure I’ll blow them up. Both of then results in me going to prison. Even worst, I will be killing a celebrity and I really don’t want to not only be on the news and the front pages of everything but to also be in prison until my body turns to rust. And he looks immaculate and perfect as if he were made from heaven, whilst I look like a nervous cat trying to escape a dog- this can also be known as unflattering.
“How much time do we have until this thing starts?” I really can’t tell if that was mean or me wanting to get this over with. I think its a bit of both. My body is still and frozen yet my heart is beating as if I’ve been running for days on end. I feel him turn to me looking down and at the dying squirrel, also known as me. I can’t bear to look at him, so I choose to look down at my feet, swiftly paying attention to the stove, making my heart scream, then have no other choice but to close my eyes in fear.
“Love, breathe,” he says as if this is nothing. This is everything to me. I can poison people today. I feel myself shut my eyes tighter as I feel him lean down to my ear so I can feel his warm breath making my heart beat to the point it almost explodes. “Loosen up a bit,”
“Welcome to the cooking competition!” The host says, “I’m your host, Jacob Manners,” everyone claps whilst I’m petrified and can’t move, even if I tried. I mean, this is it. I’m going to make the kitchen explode. Back at home, Emma always pulls me out of the kitchen. She doesn’t even allow me to use the microwave- that’s when you know you’re bad. “The judges of the year’s competition is, Sarah Smale, Sam Carter, and me Jacob Manners!” I don’t think I’m breathing right now.“Today you will be making cookies of your own kind. The rules are you have to add at least one bit of icing, and you have to have enough cookies for the judges.” I doubt there will be any judges once I explode this place.
We all make our way to the counters and prepare for baking. I take a quick glance at Harry and realise he has a big smile on his face. Like I said, confident.
“On your marks, get set, BAKE!”
“You ready, love?” Harry asks, already taking out the bowls and flour. I’m not going to ruin his fun by telling him that I’m probably going to blow everyone up here. So I won’t. I take a massive gulp and nod.
“Okay, so you measure the flour and I’ll grease the baking tray.” Okay. This can’t be too hard. We’re just measuring flour.
I quickly go and grab the flour and start to pour. Be graceful, Blossom. My hand, as shaky as ever, pours and pours. I’m actually doing okay. Whilst pouring, I look over at Harry, who looks busy is taking the baking tray out from the bottom cupboard. I hear a poof sound automatically reverting my attention back to my job. My not so graceful job. I give myself a faceplant, holding my hand there. I feel my face turn red as I feel Harry’s eyes looking at my mess.
How is it humanly possible to drop the flour packaging into the bowel? It isn’t. It’s clearly Blossom-ly possible though. Harry chuckles at me, whilst I am at the peak of tears. I’m so embarrassed. Too embarrassed.
Harry very quickly seals laughter. I have no idea why. Maybe he could tell how embarrassed I am? Either way, he does. “Maybe, you should grease the tray? I’ll measure?” He really thinks I’ll be any better? Either way, I nod.
“Sorry,” I say in a timid voice, almost to the point where I’m inaudible. My hand hasn’t left my face, and my face is still red as a tomato. “I’m sorry Harry, I’ve ruined everything. Sorry for not allowing you to win. I mean we won’t win after this. I’m so, so sorry. Sorry for dropping the flour. I’m very sorry.” I ramble. I feel his hand on my back, trying to comfort me.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to say sorry, love.” He rubs my back.
Let’s bake with Harry Styles.
We’ve done it.
We have successfully-ish made cookies.
I have, rightfully so, not done too much, so it’s more Harry’s cupcakes than Harry and Blossom’s cupcake. But, I did mix the ingredients together. Though, my arm started to ache so he finished it. But, they look extremely good. We both done the icing together, so it’s not all his creation.
But, as of now, the judges need to taste it. Emma and Lucus’ cookies have already been eaten. One thing I strongly dislike about food judges is that they never show emotion. I know that’s the point. But, I still very much hate it.
Our cookies are next. Our cookies. My stomach turns and twist, and I very much think I’ve stopped breathing. I can hear my heart pump intensely and I’m pretty sure I can see it too. Harry’s hand squeezes my arm for comfort, but if anything, made me even more apprehensive than I am or should be.
“Breathe, love.” He whispers into my ear.
I watch intensely at the first judge, Sarah Smale, takes her first bite into our cookie. The time just seems to have stopped, as if everything is at stake. It’s very unlikely for anyone to be poisoned, as I have barely touched anything. And I don’t even mind. I’ve never personally eaten anything from Harry, so I don’t know what to expect, or if his cooking and/or baking is good.
But we won’t know that information until the results, as judges forget how to smile or to show any emotions whilst eating. The only thing that manages to move is my heart, which is beating intensely in my chest.
The rest of the judges take their bite, still pulling their poker face. Oh Blossom, breathe, if you don’t win, it doesn’t matter. Nothing is serious here. At all. My heart still beats repeatedly, making me tremble. I honestly can’t remember the last time I became this nervous. Or maybe it’s just panic. Or both.
The results are in.
My heart is beating out of my chest.“Okay, in first place is...” it won’t be us. It can’t be us.“Emma Lee and Lucus Cole!” Told you.
I put aside the thoughts that are in my mind. Ems and Lucus won. And they fully deserve it. Emma’s cooking and baking I’ve ever eaten has been amazing. And for them to win, must be a lot for them, and rightfully so.
I hear everyone clap for them and so I follow. This is probably the first time my body has been able to move since our cookies had been set on the table. But, I clap unconsciously and I’m very happy to do so. I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t. I wouldn’t forgive myself. I’m so happy for Emma to win. She is such a good person, and clearly a good chef too.
As soon as you know it, the claps damper down. “In second place is...” I’m back to not being able to breathe.“Harry Styles and Blossom Harriet!”
My whole body goes red and I forget how to breathe. Completely forget. To the point where Harry is guiding me to the front tables. Luckily this is a pretty quiet place. The only other people in the contest are middle-aged couples. To be exact 3 other contestants. Other than Emma. She’s the 4th contestant. And not middle-aged.
As soon as I know it, I’m in front of the crowd. Of 8 other people. I’ve never been the centre of attention, and I don’t really want to until I have my book published. Although I’m very crazed about the fact that we’re second, I’m still covered in embarrassed and I want to be devoured by the earth immediately. The feeling I have is ”embarrassment with a hint of joy.” Help.
Once again, Harry guides me back to our kitchen, still in total humiliation that I had to be in the spotlight, then, he makes me face his way. I have no idea why. In all honesty, I’d prefer not to see anyone’s face. Ever.
“Love, you alright?” He says, rubbing my arms for comfort. I try to motion words but no audio is able to come out. I look up slightly at his face and he has a slight frown on his face. I have no idea why. At all. All I know is that I rapidly turn away.“Why are you crying,” What? He opens up his arms and then does a slight smile “We did great.” He says in his squeaky voice. I had no idea I were crying. Though ages ago I had to go in front of my whole school to collect an award and cried. Either way, I would love it if the oven beside me can eat me so I no longer have to face this reality. But it doesn’t.
I wipe away my tears on my tomato-looking face and look down to our feet. “I’m fine,” I remark, swiping my face again. And just to clarify, no I’m not fine. “I’m just not good with audiences.” I mean it’s no use talking to The Harry Styles about it. I mean he’s been doing this since 2010.
“Don’t cry, love. It’s always a shock having to step up on stage. Even me. Always a little bit at least.” He gives me a bear hug just as he does to his fans. Those fans are very, very lucky. I mean, I love hugs as they are just amazing, tight, yet you can breathe perfectly fine.