Bakery Girl ~ fiction by Lee Blevins

Donnie was going through yet another standard tutorial area in yet another free-to-play MMO when he heard his roommate come home. The door swung open, a key scraped against its lock, and Eli said something. A woman responded.

Donnie quit typing, let the automated battle play out, and then he smirked instead of smiled.

“Where’s your bathroom?” asked the woman.

“First door on the left.”

Donnie looked towards the hallway. He almost stood to close the door and then he saw a short girl with short hair step into sight beyond the door frame. (She shall be referred to as a girl now instead of a woman since Donnie thinks she’s cute.)

The girl looked from the bathroom into his bedroom.

“Hey,” she said.


“I’ve seen you before.”

Donnie nodded. “At the bakery.”

“I work there,” she said.

“I know.”

At that, the girl who worked at the bakery turned, went into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her.

Donnie scooted his computer chair back and stood. He walked out of his bedroom, down the hallway, and into the living room. Eli was pulling up YouTube.

“I know her,” said Donnie. “She works at the bakery.”


“I’ve seen her there.”

Eli sat the PlayStation controller on the arm of the couch.

“Well,” he said. “That’s probably worth repeating.”

“Where do you know her?” asked Donnie.

“The bar.”

“No, before that.”

“Just the bar.”

Donnie looked to the empty side of the couch.

“What are you getting into?” he asked.


Donnie looked down at the purse on the floor and then back up at his roommate.

“Should I not hang out in here?”

“Please God.”

Donnie sighed, went into the kitchen, and got an Ale 8. He was turning the corner into the hallway as she walked out of the bathroom.

“Have fun,” he told her, like a little bit of an asshole but only if you knew him could you really tell how much of an asshole.

Donnie went back into his room. He shut his door behind him and sat at his computer. He put his Ale 8 down, picked his headphones up, and almost didn’t overhear Eli ask her what she did for a living.


Donnie went out once for a smoke while they were still on the couch. He just nodded at both of them in turn. Wasn’t weird at all.

Every time he went out after that, six times to smoke, once for a snack, and twice to the bathroom, they were back in Eli’s room with the door shut.

Once he thought he heard her moaning but he figured out it was just soul music when the record skipped.


The first thing Donnie did the next morning was go pee and the second thing he did was go smoke. Eli’s car was still parked slightly crooked behind Donnie’s.

Donnie was leaning against the porch rail, looking out between the sloped roofs towards the hills across town, when he heard the front door open behind him. He turned expecting Eli.

“How was it?” he asked.

“Not bad,” said the bakery girl.

Donnie felt himself go red.

“I didn’t think you were still here.”

She closed the door. She had her purse slung over her shoulder.

“He’s sleeping and I don’t feel like waking him up. So I am going to walk back. Not in shame, but out of convenience!”

“To your house?”

“My car. It’s still at the bar.”

Donnie stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the porch rail.

“I can drive you there,” he said.

The bakery girl shook her head. “That’s okay.”

“I need cigarettes, anyway,” said Donnie. “So it’s no trouble.”

“Well,” she said, “that would be even more convenient.”

“Let me get my shoes.” Then he went back in.

Donnie quietly gathered his keys, wallet, and cell phone. He kept his shoes by the front door like some kind of civilized person. He slipped into them with clum, which is an archaic word for silence, but also kind of looks like it might be the root word for clumsy.

The bakery girl was sitting on the top step of the porch. She looked back at Donnie as he locked up.

“Thanks again,” she said.

“It’s nothing.” {You’re very attractive.}

They walked down the steps and then around opposite sides of the car. Donnie hardly ever locked his doors. They got in.

“It’s really messy in here,” she said. “That was a shitty thing to say, wasn’t it?”

“No, that floorboard is beyond polite.”

Only the bakery girl buckled up.

Donnie drove down the hill and into town. They didn’t talk much. He raised the volume a little.

“I like this song,” she said.

That made him happy for the first time in weeks and for the last time for several more weeks.

Donnie went down Main Street and then past the Speedway and up to the bar. He slowed down beside it.

“Here you go,” he said.

“Appreciate it.” She unbuckled and scooped up her purse. “I hope they aren’t out of the cigarettes you like or anything.”

The bakery girl opened the passenger door and got out.

“You too,” said Donnie, for some reason. She shut the door.

He eased off the brakes as she went down the sidewalk. Donnie watched her through the rearview mirror until she turned out of sight. Then he took the long way to get cigarettes so she wouldn’t see him see her again. Wasn’t weird at all.


Donnie was playing Fallout 3 when Eli got up around noon. Eli made himself a cup of microwaved coffee (clearly becoming the villain of this piece) and sat down in the chair beside the couch. Donnie didn’t pause the game.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“She let me sleep with her.”


Eli pulled out his phone.

“Do you like her?” Donnie asked.

“I tried really hard to sleep with her.”

Donnie shot a ghoul in the head.

“Think you’ll see her again?”

Eli took a sip of coffee and said, “Maybe off-screen.”

Donnie started to pick the lock of a safe. The first three lockpicks broke but the fourth lockpick opened it. There wasn’t much useful in it.

“What’s her name?” he asked.


Donnie went to the bakery twice that week. Hannah wasn’t working the first time but the second time she was behind the counter. She raised her eyebrows upon seeing Donnie then quickly lowered them again when presumably she realized that might seem kind of rude.

“Hi there,” she said.

“What’s up?”

Hannah shrugged. “Working. At a bakery. Thus the title.”

Donnie nodded and looked down at the pastries below the glass countertop. He pointed at a plate.

“I’ll take that muffin.”

Hannah rose off her stool.

“For here?”

Donnie shook his head. “To go.”

Hannah pulled a bag off the counter, bent down, and opened the glass door. She reached in, selected that muffin, and slid it into the bag.

“You been doing alright?” he asked her.

“Pretty well,” she said, walking to the cash register, “and you?”


Hannah didn’t miss a beat even though who answers that way. She just sat the muffin on the counter and rang it up on the cash register. “1.25,” she said.

Donnie pulled a handful of change out of his pocket and counted through it until he had enough. Then he dumped it on the counter so it wouldn’t go spilling everywhere. He thought that was being considerate.

Hannah picked up the change, piece by piece, double checking the count with clum, and put each coin in its appropriate drawer.

“Need a receipt?” she asked.

“The government takes my refund check. Every year.”

{So no.}

Hannah closed the cash register. “Well,” she said, sitting back on the stool, “hope you enjoy that muffin.”

“I will.” Donnie picked it up, folded the top of the bag over, and made eye contact with Hannah for the first time. “We should all hang out again.”

The door behind him opened with a signaling bell.

“We didn’t really hang out before, technically,” Hannah said. “But that could be fun.”

“Sure,” said Donnie. {Fuck.} Then he turned and went past his sixth-grade science teacher (who had taken a special interest in his education and everything) without a glance her way.

Walking along the sidewalk, Donnie unrolled the top of the bag and pulled the muffin out. Took a bite of bursting blueberry. Chewed.

Donnie spent the next little bit wondering what Hannah might have said if he had left the “again” off the statement, “We should all hang out again.” Then he realized he could’ve done without “all” as well.


Donnie ran into Hannah a couple years after that at a mutual acquaintance’s New Year’s Eve party. He was a lot less weird that time but she still didn’t sleep with him like he wanted but never made clear.

Bakery girls, am I right?

Lee Blevins lives in Lexington, KY. You can follow him on Twitter @BleeSevens or visit his sad, bare-bones website

Show Lee some love via PayPal at leeblevins(at)gmail(dot)com.