Sydney’s been gawking at this damn box of donuts for five minutes now. It feels like it’s been an hour, but the clock in the corner says otherwise.

Thirteen donuts of various kinds: cream and jelly-filled, sugar and chocolate glaze, maple twists and many others. However, the one placed on top— the thirteenth donut— is what’s holding her attention.

It’s just a cake donut with rainbow sprinkles sitting atop white icing. Nothing special.

But, there’s a receipt form tucked underneath the stupid, stupid treat that’s making her heart flutter. A receipt with your number on it, followed by a call me! :) in loopy scrawl. She’s a goner.

A sudden holler emits from Richie when he spots the pink box, sending him and Fak barreling over in a heap of childish jabs and cursing. Sydney merely groans and steps aside with the cake donut and the receipt to avoid the inevitable sound of arguing on her ears.

This is what she gets for visiting the new bakery’s that’s opened up across the street; her nosy ass just had to go “check things out” as if she solely wasn’t going to see you. The two of you had exchanged a longing look from both ends of the sidewalk last week while you brought things inside, and Sydney probably would’ve said hi then if you weren’t pulled inside by someone who looked to be your mother.

It’d been funny to see a grown-ass adult get pulled away by their ear like a petulant child, and she supposes everyone in Chicago has their quirks. Hell, everyone at The Bear had them, including her.

That’s probably why it took her a week to build the courage to pay a visit. And why her knees had nearly buckled when you greeted her from behind the counter with that damn smile. She’s totally a goner.

Sydney ignores a teasing grin from Sugar who’s picked up on her behavior, and before she can protest, you’re poking your head through the kitchen side door.

“We’re not open—” she begins, only for her jaw to drop at the sight of her scarf in your hands.

Guess she won’t have to call, after all.