Chances for Serendipity

by Natalie Chung

  Aiden regarded me warily. “What kind of challenge?”

  “If you’re going to help, you need to know your stuff. Learn the names of everything we sell, the main ingredients, and their prices before the end of the workday.”

  His brows drew together, then he spun around and scanned the shop. “That’s all?”

  He asked the question like it was easy, but I didn’t issue challenges I couldn’t win. “Yep, that includes two of the items that aren’t in stock today.”

  “And how many is that in total?”

  “We sell eight different food products.” That was more than twenty-four different things he’d have to remember.

  I expected him to back out now, to say he forgot he was actually busy or some other well-constructed lie. But nope. “It’s a deal then.” He raised his hand and I shook it, marvelling at the eternal warmth radiating from his skin. “May as well pick out where you want to eat dinner now.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Cocky much? “Just dinner, right?” I looked up at the cuckoo clock. It was ten minutes past nine. “We close at six. Are you sure you want to stay the whole day? Don’t you have things to do?”

  He shrugged as if he wasn’t offering anything important. “I have no other plans for the day.” He glanced around the shop. “Unless you’re secretly working for the media.”

  “Why would it matter if I was working for the media?”

  The smile fell from his face. “Never mind.”

  But I did mind. I minded for the next few hours while I allowed him to observe how I served customers and replenished batches of sold buns.

  At one point, a customer gave us an odd look and asked him, “Are you that tennis player?”

  Before he could blurt out more nonsense about looking like a young Tom Cruise, I said, “He’s a new casual at the bakery.”

  Straight after that close call, I ushered Aiden into the kitchen and handed him an apron from one of the hooks by the wall. As an extra precaution, I made him wear one of those white baker’s caps. It wasn’t the most cleverly put together disguise, but people wouldn’t really dare to believe that a tennis star worked in a small local bakery, would they?

  The getup also looked absolutely ridiculous on him. His tousled hair flattened out beneath the cap, seeming messier than ever. But he took it in stride. He didn’t complain about it anyway. Maybe he would once he saw himself in a mirror.

  During rare intervals of quiet time when no customers were around, I tested him.

  “What’s this called?” I asked, lifting up the new tray of buns I’d brought in from the kitchen.

  His eyes narrowed as he peered at them. “Barbecue pork bun?”

  I nodded. “Price?”

  “Two dollars eighty,” he said without hesitation.

  And on it went until we’d covered all the items we had in stock today. The only thing he’d gotten wrong was the fact that pineapple buns, contrary to their name, did not actually contain pineapple. Otherwise, he pretty much aced the challenge so far. And that made a ripple of uncertainty weave its way through me.

  Crap. I think I might actually lose this challenge. “Do you have a photographic memory?” I asked him, but he only laughed.

  “I’m just good with memorisation. Numbers, dates, that sort of stuff. If you said your mobile number right now, I bet I could remember it.”

  I could barely recall Mum’s, yet he was telling me he could remember mine after saying it aloud? “No way.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  So I told him my number—quickly, and only once. Not likely he would remember it without writing it down. That was what I kept telling myself. I really didn’t want to think I’d made another mistake on top of giving him an easy challenge.

  Close to lunchtime, my stomach growled while serving a customer. I laughed it off, but quietly cursed not being able to take a break until it got quieter.

  People flocked here during lunch breaks, wanting a snack for later or, strangely enough, a bun for their meal. I guess I couldn’t really judge them, not when I’d eaten a bun for my substitute breakfast earlier. Aiden had also generously manned the store while I’d made us coffee in the kitchen. That coffee had worked wonders. I might not have been standing right now without the strong caffeine fix.

  “Mind if I take a break?” Aiden asked not long after my stomach growled.

  I waved him off. “Go ahead.” Maybe he finally got sick of sticking around and wanted out. I didn’t blame him. It was probably boring for him to watch me work. And he wasn’t being paid for it.

  Two customers currently wandered around, but seeing as they didn’t require serving right now—a surprising moment of reprieve—I snuck a quick peek at my phone. Just in case Mum called. She loved to randomly call and ask how I was doing, being the worrywart she was.

  But no missed calls or messages from Mum appeared on my lock screen. Instead, I came across a message on my notifications from the person I least expected.

  Liz: OMG! Did you see this?...

  I almost dropped my phone. What the heck? Why was she messaging me?

  Oh, right. Because I’d never bothered to block her, simply because that felt so below me. If I’d blocked her, it would have made me feel like I’d been in the wrong—which I hadn’t been. But it had all been okay. She hadn’t messaged me in a long time. Until now.

  Would she send me spam? I mean, I was the one ignoring her while she was still trying to mend our broken friendship. Even her profile pic was still the one of us at the Sydney International finals from two years ago. If she truly hated me, she would’ve changed it.

  Sighing, I gave in to my curiosity and pressed on the notification and read the preview title of the link underneath her message. But as soon as I did, it was like I’d splashed myself again in the face with cold water.

  I read the title again to make sure I was seeing things right. Then a third time.

  Chapter 15

  My mind lurched to a standstill. Early retirement? Is this for real? I tapped on the link to the article, my insides squirming in apprehension while the internet browser loaded.

  Just as rows of text popped up on screen, someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me?”

  My head whipped up. A man slid his plastic tray across the counter toward me and took out his wallet. Oops. I had work to do. How could I have forgotten?

  “Hi, how are you?” I smiled, pretending I hadn’t just been preoccupied with my phone. I powered off the screen and slipped the device on the shelf underneath the counter.

  After quickly serving him, more people lined up to pay. Normally I’d be happy seeing so many customers, but right now all I could think about was that article’s title. What did it mean? Would he really be quitting tennis at the ripe young age of twenty-three? It had to be a clickbait title. Or Liz had purposely found fake news to mess with me. Either one of those possibilities were better over the title being the truth.

  When the bakery emptied out at last, I didn’t waste any time. I nabbed my phone, unlocked it, and immediately started reading at lightning speed.

  Australian professional tennis player, Aiden Andale, has recently drawn headlines after his alarming second-round exit in the US Open a few months ago. Despite his full recovery from his knee injury last year, his recent performances consisted of a string of first-round exits and withdrawals. This eventually led him to end his tennis season prematurely for the year.

  The young tennis star is notorious for keeping a tight lid on his private life. However, yesterday marked the end of his month-long social media silence. An official post confirmed his split from his coach and father, Morris Andale—a huge shock to many. The two have stood together as a united front from the very beginning of Andale’s professional tennis career. Many interviews and statements in the past have acknowledged his father as the most important figurehead in his life.

  Andale’s latest Twitter update suggested more alarming news with the following words: “Aus Open. Great beginnings for
me. Great endings in Jan?”

  Fans went wild with their speculations on social media, arguing what his meaning was behind this. Some fans believe the post to be a joke, or made on bad impulses. However, the update has yet to be deleted if this is the case. Unfortunately, Andale has not addressed any of these theories thus far, and his manager has declined to comment at this time.

  Bells chimed as soon as I finished reading the last sentence of the article. I stashed my phone in its hiding spot under the counter again, ready to greet another customer.

  Only there was no customer. It was Aiden. He lifted a large, brown takeaway bag in greeting. “Hey, I’m back with some lunch,” he said, placing the bag on the counter.

  “Cool,” I said, ignoring my stomach’s roiling protests. Yeah, it was so not cool that he’d brought food out in front of my face, but I couldn’t really diss him for it. I owed him for staying and helping today. But I had to admit, it was hard to ignore the mouthwatering smell coming from the paper bag. Mmmm. “You can take it in the kitchen to eat.” Far from my nose, please.

  He didn’t heed my advice. Instead, he dug out a few paper-wrapped items and handed me one. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just got you the classic cheeseburger.”

  I ogled the paper-wrapped package, it’s heat warming my hands. “Wait. You got me lunch?”

  “Yeah, I was craving some good old grease and thought I should feed you too. Can’t have you dropping like an overworked bee again.” He rubbed his temple with his arm, shifting the baker’s cap slightly off his head in the process. “Here.” He pulled out a small pack of fries from the paper bag and passed it to me.

  “Thanks. You didn’t have to. Aren’t you meant to be eating healthy though?” I asked, despite knowing that it didn’t really matter if he was retiring.

  Retiring. I hadn’t even had time to comprehend everything I’d just read. Before his injuries, he’d been one of my favourite tennis players to watch. It felt wrong for him to retire at such a young age without a good reason, so I wanted to know why. Had he lost his spark? Here was the most reliable source to ask in front of me. But how could I ask him for the truth without being a snoop?

  “Don’t you, uh, have a strict diet or something?” I asked, thinking he might admit that wouldn’t matter if he was retiring.

  “Not really. Go on, eat up.”

  Huh. I guess asking in a pathetic, roundabout way wouldn’t work. Well, since he insisted, I unwrapped the paper package. My stomach gurgled at the delicious sight of beef and grilled cheese clamped between two soft halves of a brioche bun. I took a bite and moaned in appreciation. As Ming liked to say about delicious food, it tasted like heaven. Funny, now that I thought about it. Ming, our secret guardian angel, referring to yummy food as pieces of heaven.

  “Do you like it?” Aiden asked.

  I nodded enthusiastically and took another bite, the combination of flavours melting in my mouth as I chewed. This burger was something else. Moist and tender beef, flavourful cheddar cheese, crunchy lettuce… though it could also be because I hadn’t eaten a proper breakfast. Either way, my stomach rejoiced.

  Aiden braced his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, drawing my attention to him. He grinned widely, causing flutters to erupt inside me. Sirens went off in my head at my reaction.

  No, no. Do not go there! He was just a nice guy. I wouldn’t get the wrong idea. He wasn’t interested in me in that way. I’d seen the girls he’d dated before—blonde, beautiful, or a model. Or all three. Geez, I was the exact opposite. Black hair, not super pretty, and definitely not a model. I mean, I wasn’t miserable with the way I looked, but it was hard not to feel insecure when I compared myself to those kinds of people.

  “You look like you’re deep in thought. What are you thinking about?”

  I almost choked on the piece of burger I was swallowing. No way was I answering him with the truth. Could I melt into a puddle of embarrassment? My gaze trailed upward to the baker’s cap still sitting off-tilt on his head. Could he fix that up?

  I wiped my greasy fingers on a serviette and then reached for the cap. He tensed, his hazel eyes tracking my movement like a hawk as I straightened the cap and pulled my hand back. Noticing his eyes were still on me, I decided to answer his question—with a different thought I’d been stewing over. “I was just wondering why you’re being so nice to me.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No, but it’s unexpected.”

  And he continued being unexpectedly nice as the day went on; offering to serve customers while I observed, bagging the goods while I was serving, and volunteering to wash a few of the dirty dishes piling up in the sink.

  It still didn’t make sense to me why he was being so nice. Dad’s favourite saying used to be, There’s no such thing as free lunch. Ironic, because my parents jumped at anything legitimately free. But in this case, I couldn’t see any immediate repercussions from accepting Aiden’s help.

  With the knowledge of today’s available stock under his belt, Aiden spent most of his time helping me bag items for customers. I even let him try the cash register a few times for the easier orders. His confidence grew to the point where I would have recommended him to Mum as a permanent employee if he also had the baking skills. So it came as no surprise that at closing time, he successfully passed the challenge.

  “Okay, I admit defeat. You win,” I announced. He hadn’t made a single mistake when I quizzed him.

  His answering smile made my heart skip a beat. You would’ve thought he’d won the lottery from how wide he was beaming.

  “So what’s for dinner, Not-Serena?”

  Chapter 16

  A shrill tune blared from my phone, and the screen lit up with a new message.

  Your order is being prepared. Expected wait time is approx. 20 minutes.

  Yes! I couldn’t wait. Char siu—Chinese barbecue pork—was my favourite dish of all time. Yum for my tum. After today’s struggles, I wanted to treat myself. Except ordering for home delivery also meant the addition of something else in my home.

  I glanced at the something else sitting opposite me. Aiden propped his arms on my dining room table, his steady gaze trained on me. Disbelief warred with tingles of amazement as I questioned myself and my current state of mind.

  Was I deeply tired, and in need of a good nap? Yes.

  Was I sleeping though? No.

  Was I crazy to invite an almost stranger, fame status notwithstanding, into my home? Maybe.

  But I figured I was safe from…what exactly? Theft? Flirting?

  I doubted a millionaire would find anything in my home worth stealing. And he hadn’t flirted with me today at all, which meant—as I repeatedly told myself before—that he wasn’t interested. Not romantically. Besides, it wasn’t like I was doing relationships. Nope, nope. Been there, done that. No plans to go and do it again. Ever.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Aiden said, bringing me back to our present conversation. “You called yourself ‘Serena’ back then because you hated your real name?”

  “Uh-huh.” I’d explained it all after ordering the food. But when he reaffirmed it like that, it made my teenage-self sound rather immature.

  “Why did you hate being named Serendipity?”

  Oh, I could launch into a whole essay about why. But I gave him the truncated version instead, counting off each point with my fingers. “One—it’s way too long for a name. Two—it’s hard to spell. Three—it’s super weird and unheard of. And four…” I trailed off. Should I really tell him everything?

  “Four?” he prompted.

  “Four.” I raised another finger. Would it hurt to tell him? He didn’t seem like he would judge me. “When I was younger, a bunch of kids used to make fun of me for it.” I dropped my hand into my lap as the hurtful memories flooded into my mind. “These boys in my class…” I didn’t even remember their faces now, just their jeering, prepubescent voices. “They used to call me names. Seren-dip-
in-pee or Dip-in-pee for short.”

  Aiden’s face scrunched as he sank back in his chair. “Geez, kids are horrible.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “Please tell me they got in trouble for it.” The tone in his voice made it sound like if I said no, he’d personally punish them. I didn’t really know what to make of that.

  “Hmm, they didn’t ever officially get in trouble for it, but my brother threatened to bash them after I told him.” Back then, Max had been more than a head taller than everyone my age, and overprotective of me. “The boys stopped after that.” But the damage had been done.

  Why hadn’t I been named something more normal? That thought had circulated through my still-developing kid brain, and my solution had been simple—convince everyone my name was something normal, like Serena.

  “Lucky you have a brother who’s there for you.” Aiden smiled in satisfaction. “Do you have any other siblings?”

  “Nope.” My face scrunched up at the idea of another Max. Imagine two annoying brothers calling me Dippy. Actually, the second brother would probably come up with another annoying nickname, like Dipster or Ditzy Dipity. Yeah, no thanks. I’d accepted Max’s silly nickname as an odd endearment—he’d been calling me Dippy for as long as I remembered—but that didn’t mean I wanted any other nicknames added to the list. “One brother is enough for me. He already annoys me like ninety percent of the time.” The remaining ten percent he didn’t was the only reason I still called him Gor Gor.

  Aiden chuckled. “That must be nice. I’m an only child, so no annoying siblings for me. But I was lucky I didn’t have to put up with bratty classmates.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I recalled once reading about him having a busy childhood. “Were you homeschooled?”

  “Yeah. Since I was eight.” He stared past me, seemingly lost in his thoughts. “Sometimes I think about what it would’ve been like to have a normal school life.”