Kent sat in the chateau's work trailer, his blueprints scattered across the desk like a messy puzzle.
It was a chilly Monday morning, a whole week since he'd walked by the river with Gaesha. Kent liked his days simple—black coffee, quiet work, no surprises.
But lately, surprises kept sneaking in. It all started with that first note and croissant. Now, there were more, piling up like uninvited guests.
He reached for his desk drawer and pulled out a small wooden box, plain and scratched from years of use.
Inside, wrapped in crinkly paper, were three notes and two pastries. The first was the croissant, now a bit stale, from last week.
The second showed up two days ago—a blueberry muffin with a note in messy handwriting: "Hey, Grumpy! Cheer up, it's sunny! —A Friend."
The third arrived just this morning—a chocolate chip cookie with another note: "Morning, Kent! Don't work too hard. —A Friend."
Kent frowned at the box, his fingers tapping the desk. "Who keeps doing this?" he muttered to himself. Deep down, he was pretty sure it was Gaesha.
The sloppy writing, the goofy words—it screamed her. But she never signed her name, just "A Friend," and that annoyed him more than he wanted to admit.
Why hide it? What was she playing at?
The trailer door banged open, and Mark stomped in, a hammer swinging in his hand. "Yo, Kent, you still breathing in here?" he called, his voice loud enough to shake the walls.
Kent snapped the box shut and slid it back into the drawer. "Yeah, I'm alive," he said, keeping his tone flat. "What do you need, Mark?"
"Break time, man," Mark said, leaning against the wall. "Come grab some food. You look like you haven't slept in a week."
"I'm fine," Kent said, his eyes flicking back to his blueprints. "Got a lot to do. Deadlines, you know."
Mark grinned, his eyes zeroing in on the drawer. "Sure, sure. Deadlines. But you've got something else going on, don't you? What's in that box? Another secret?"
"It's nothing," Kent said quickly, his hand resting on the drawer like a shield. "Just… tools. Stuff for work."
Mark laughed, loud and teasing. "Tools? Come on, Kent, don't lie to me. It's her again, isn't it? That pastry girl—Gaesha?"
"No," Kent said, but his voice came out too sharp, and he knew he'd given himself away. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Fine. Maybe."
"I knew it!" Mark said, slapping his knee. "She's back at it, huh? What'd Gaesha send you this time? Another treat to mess with your head?"
Kent leaned back in his chair, giving up. "A cookie," he said. "And another note. That's it."
"A cookie?" Mark's eyes lit up. "Nice! Let me see it. Come on, share the goods!"
"No way," Kent said, sliding the drawer open just enough to block Mark's view. "It's mine. You're not touching it."
Mark threw his hands up, still grinning. "Yours? Oh, man, Kent Sivan, keeping cookies now? I thought you hated sweets. Didn't you say sugar's bad for your focus or something?"
"I don't hate them," Kent muttered, crossing his arms. "I just don't eat them. And I'm not keeping them for fun. I'm… collecting them."
Mark blinked, leaning closer. "Collecting? What, like stamps? You're gonna start a cookie museum now?"
"No," Kent said, his voice sharp. "I'm trying to figure it out, okay? She's leaving these things here, in my trailer. I don't know how she's doing it. It's weird."
Mark chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not weird, Kent. It's Gaesha. She's sneaky like that. Bet she's got someone helping her—maybe one of the workers. You know, slipping them a free donut to drop off her little gifts."
"Maybe," Kent said, frowning. He pulled the box out again and set it on the desk. "But look at this. Three notes, three treats. It's getting ridiculous. Why does she keep doing this?"
Mark peered into the box, whistling. "That's quite a haul," he said. "Croissant, muffin, cookie. She's got variety. Hey, that cookie looks tasty. Can I have it? You're not eating it, right?"
"No," Kent said, snatching the cookie out of Mark's reach. "Don't touch it. It's… evidence."
Mark burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. "Evidence? Oh, come on, Kent, you're not Sherlock Holmes! It's a cookie, not a crime scene. Gaesha's just flirting with you, man."
"She's not flirting," Kent said, his cheeks getting warm. "She's annoying me. That's all."
He picked up the latest note and read it again, his voice low. "'Morning, Kent! Don't work too hard.' What's that supposed to mean? It's stupid."
Mark leaned against the desk, smirking. "It means she's thinking about you. She's trying to get under your skin. And, buddy, it's working. You're all worked up over a cookie."
"She's got my attention, okay?" Kent admitted, tossing the note back in the box. "But I don't like it. It's distracting. I've got blueprints to finish, not… whatever this is."
"Sure," Mark said, his grin wider than ever. "That's why you've got a special box for her stuff. You're totally fine with it, right?"
Kent glared, his fingers tightening on the box. "I'm throwing it all out," he said. "Today. I mean it."
"Go for it," Mark said, pointing at the trash can in the corner. "It's right there. Dump it. Show her you're not playing her game."
Kent stood up, the box in his hands. He marched to the trash can, flipped open the lid, and stared inside.
The smell of old coffee cups hit him, and he hesitated. "Not yet," he said, stepping back. "I'll do it later. When I'm done with work."
Mark laughed so hard he nearly dropped his hammer. "Oh, man, you're in deep! You're hooked, Kent. Just admit it—you like her little notes."
"I'm not hooked," Kent said, sitting back down. "She's just… persistent. That's all. She keeps pushing, and I don't know why."
"She's fun," Mark said, crossing his arms. "And you need fun, Kent. All you do is stare at blueprints and frown like an old man. Gaesha's shaking things up for you."
"I like my blueprints," Kent said, his voice stubborn. "They make sense. They've got rules. She doesn't. She's all over the place."
"Maybe that's not so bad," Mark said, shrugging. "A little chaos might do you good. Get you out of your head for once."
"I don't want chaos," Kent said. He shoved the box back in the drawer and slammed it shut. "Can we just work now? Please?"
"Fine, fine," Mark said, still chuckling. "But I'm telling you, she's not done. Bet you anything Gaesha's got another surprise coming tomorrow."
Kent didn't answer. He grabbed a pencil and bent over his blueprints, trying to focus on the neat lines and numbers.
But his mind wandered, picturing Gaesha—her wide smile, her loud laugh, the way she talked like she'd known him forever.
Why was she doing this? And why didn't it bother him as much as he wanted it to?
That night, Kent sat alone in his hotel room, the wooden box open on the small table. The room was quiet, just the hum of the heater and the faint sound of cars outside.
He spread out the notes, reading them one by one. "Hey, Grumpy Kent," he mumbled. "Cheer up, it's sunny. Don't work too hard."
He snorted, shaking his head. "So dumb," he said. But he didn't crumple them up. He didn't toss them in the trash.
His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it. It was his sister, Lily, her name lighting up the screen.
"Hey, Kent!" she said when he answered, her voice bright and cheery. "What's going on? You sound quiet. Everything okay?"
"Nothing's going on," Kent said, leaning back in his chair. "Just work. Same as always."
Lily laughed, and he could picture her rolling her eyes. "You're such a bad liar, Kent Sivan. Come on, spill it. You sound weird, like something's on your mind."
Kent hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the box. "It's that girl," he said finally. "Gaesha. She's… leaving me notes. And stuff."
"What?" Lily's voice went high with excitement. "Gaesha? The one who got éclair all over you? Oh, that's so cute! Notes? Like love letters?"
"They're not love letters," Kent said, his voice sharp. "They're annoying. She writes dumb things, like 'don't frown' or 'cheer up.' And she sends pastries with them. It's ridiculous."
Lily giggled, and Kent could hear her clapping her hands. "Pastries? Oh, I love her already! That's adorable, Kent. What kind of pastries? Tell me everything."
"Just… stuff," Kent said, glancing at the box. "A croissant. A muffin. A cookie today. I don't even eat them."
"Wait, wait," Lily said, her voice teasing. "You're keeping them? You've got a little stash of Gaesha's treats somewhere, don't you?"
"No," Kent said, then paused. "Okay, yeah. I've got them. But not because I want to. I'm just… trying to figure out why she's doing it."
"Kent!" Lily said, laughing so hard she gasped. "You totally like her! You're keeping her notes and cookies because you're into her. Admit it!"
"I'm not into her," Kent said, but his voice wasn't as sure as he wanted it to be. "I'm confused, that's all. She's making everything complicated."
Lily's tone softened, but she was still smiling through the phone. "You're smiling right now, aren't you? I can tell. Your voice gets all funny when you're happy."
"I'm not smiling," Kent said, but his hand went to his face, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. Just a little. "Okay, maybe a tiny bit. But it's not a big deal."
"It's a huge deal!" Lily said. "She's special, Kent. Don't be a grump about it. Keep those notes. Keep the pastries. Maybe eat one, you know? Live a little."
"I'm not a grump," Kent said, rolling his eyes. "And I'm not eating the cookie. Goodnight, Lily."
"Night, big brother!" Lily said, still giggling. "Tell Gaesha I said hi!"
Kent hung up and stared at the box, his fingers drumming on the table. He picked up the cookie, held it to his nose, and sniffed.
It smelled sweet, like chocolate and sugar. "I'm not eating this," he said to the empty room. "And I'm not keeping it forever."
But he didn't throw it out. Instead, he slid the box under his bed, hiding it like a kid hiding a toy.
When he turned off the light and lay down, Gaesha's face popped into his head—her voice, her messy energy, those silly notes.
He didn't like it. Or maybe he did. For the first time in a long time, Kent wasn't sure what he felt.