Max flopped onto the couch the sed they got home, dramatically throwing her arm over her eyes like a fainting Victorian widow. "Caroline, I have been through trauma today. I least twelve hours of recovery time."

  Caroline, ever persistent, was already flipping open a notebook at the kit ter. "Max, e on. I want to help with the cupcakes."

  Max peeked out from under her arm. "Yeah, you want to, but I need you to want something else. Like sleeping. Or not making my life harder."

  Caroline ignored her and tapped her pen against the notebook. "Look, I know you always hahe baking, but we have a thousand cupcakes to deliver in a few days, and if I at least learn the basics, I help speed things up."

  Max sighed. "Caroline. You have many talents. Being rich. Wearing pastels. Pronoung 'croissant' like you swallowed a French waiter. But baking? That's—" She sat up aured at herself. "—a Max Bck zone."

  Caroline crossed her arms. "Oh, really? Because I seem to remember making a perfectly edible batch of cupcakes once."

  Max scoffed. "No, you made a batch of paperweights that looked like cupcakes."

  Caroline huffed. "You're exaggerating."

  Max raised an eyebroulled out her phone. After a few swipes, she held up a picture of one of Caroline's infamous "cupcakes"—a rock-hard, burnt-bottomed hockey puck with a single, sad swirl of frosting on top.

  Caroline squinted. "Okay, so maybe they were a little dense."

  Max deadpanned. "NASA called. They want them for spaceship insution."

  Caroline groaned and grabbed Max's arm, yanking her off the couch. "e on. Just teach me already!"

  Max let out a long, suffering sigh. "Fine! But if you set off the smoke arm again, you're expining it to the fire department this time."

  [Kit]

  Caroliied her apron with a determined nod as Max begrudgingly dragged herself to the kit, rubbiemples like a mother about to teach her toddler how to drive a race car.

  "Alright," Max said, spping a mixing bowl onto the ter. "First lesson: measuring. And I swear, Caroline, if you start eyeballing things like you do with your 'a dash of this, a spsh of that' approach to cocktails, we're going to have another batch of t pucks."

  Caroline scoffed. "Max, please. I measure."

  Max folded her arms. "Oh, yeah? Then tell me how many cups are in a quart."

  Caroline opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then frowned. "…I feel like this is a trick question."

  Max smirked. "It's not. It's basic math."

  Caroline waved her off. "Math is for people without personal shoppers."

  Max groaned. "Oh, this is gonna be a long night."

  She reached for the flour, but Caroli her to it, proudly scooping a heaping cup and dumping it into the bowl.

  Max blinked. "Okay, I'm seeing about three problems already."

  Caroline frowned. "What? It's flour. I put it in the bowl. It's fine."

  Max sighed, rubbing her face. "Caroline, rule number one: baking is not 'fine.' Baking is sce. You measure wrong, and suddenly, we have a batch of dough that either colpses or rises like it's trying to escape the oven."

  Caroline huffed. "It's just a little extra flour."

  Max grabbed the cup from her and leveled off the excess with a butter knife. "No, it's a lot extra. We are not making spackle."

  Caroline rolled her eyes but took mental notes. "Okay, okay. Level it off. Got it."

  Max passed her the sugar. ", we do the same thing with—"

  Before she could finish, Carolihusiastically dumped aire scoop into the bowl, sending a fine dusting of sugar into the air.

  Max stepped back, coughing. "Caroline, are we making cupcakes, or are y to fumigate the apartment?"

  Caroline winced. "Oops. Too much?"

  Max gave her a ft look. "Unless you want the cupcakes to double as hummingbird feeders, yes."

  Caroli her lip. "Right. Precision. Got it."

  They moved on to crag eggs. Caroline, ever fident, grabbed one and smacked it against the edge of the bowl.

  And watched as half the shell fell in with it.

  Max sighed, fishing out the shell pieces. "Awesome. Love a little my cupcakes."

  Caroline groaned. "Why is this so hard?!"

  Max leaned on the ter, smirking. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because baking is a highly skilled craft that takes years of practiot something you just ma ieh positive thinking and an expensive handbag?"

  Caroline crossed her arms. "Alright, Chef Sarcasm, since you're the expert, show me how it's done."

  Max grabbed an egg, gave it a single fident tap against the ter (not the bowl), and split it open effortlessly, the yolk slipping into the mixture without a single shell fragment in sight.

  Caroline's jaw dropped. "Oh, e on. That was a trick."

  Max grinned. "Nope. Just experienow, you try."

  Caroliook a deep breath, grabbed an, and mimicked Max's movement.

  Tap.Crack.Spt.

  The egg slid off her fingers and onto the floor.

  Silence.

  Max took a long sip of her coffee. "You know, I suddenly uand why your dad paid people to do everything for you."

  Caroline groaned, grabbing a paper towel. "I swear, I'm not usually this inpetent."

  Max smirked. "Sure. And I'm a m person."

  By the time they finally got everything measured and mixed properly, Caroline looked both exhausted and oddly triumphant. The batter was smooth, the right sistency, and—most importantly—tained zern objects.

  Max wiped her hands. "Alright, Blondie. Now es the easy part. We pour it into the liners."

  Caroline brightened. "Oh! I do that."

  Max handed her the scoop. "Just remember: only fill them two-thirds full. Not all the way to the top."

  Caroline nodded enthusiastically. "Got it."

  Max watched for precisely three seds before Caroline overfilled the first cup.

  Max squinted. "Caroline."

  Caroline froze mid-pour. "What?"

  Max pointed. "That's not two-thirds. That's 'prepare for liftoff.'"

  Caroline gnced down at the overflowing batter and winced. "Okay, I see my mistake."

  Max handed her a spoon. "Fix it."

  Caroline carefully scooped out the excess.

  By the time they had all the cups filled (with only two minor spills), Caroliepped back, beaming. "We did it!"

  Max smirked. "Corre: I did it while you tried to burn dow."

  Caroline rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Let's just bake them."

  Max slid the tray into the oven ahe timer. "Alright. Noait."

  Caroline cpped her hands. "Ooooh, this is exg! I feel like a real baker."

  Max snorted. "Yeah, we'll see if you still feel that way when we frost these things."

  Caroline waved her off. "Frosting is easy."

  Max just grinned. "Oh, honey."

  ...

  Twenty mier, the kit smelled like vanil, sugar, and something suspiciously close to victory. Max pulled the cupcakes out of the oven and pced them on the cooling raodding approvingly. "Well, look at that. They actually look edible."

  Caroline leaned in with wide eyes. "Oh my God. I helped make these." She cpped her hands. "Max, I might actually be good at this!"

  Max raised an eyebrow. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You measured things urict supervision and mao crack eggs without triggering an apartment-wide disaster." She patted Caroline's shoulder. "But baby steps. You didn't ruin them, and that's a win."

  Caroline puffed out her chest. "So, what's ?"

  Max smirked and grabbed a massive bowl of buttercream frosting from the fridge. "Now es the real test."

  Caroline frowned. "Max, it's frosting. You just… spread it on."

  Max let out a long, slow, evil ugh. "Oh, sweet summer child."

  Caroline crossed her arms. "You're being dramatic."

  Max grabbed a piping bag and started filling it with the smooth, fluffy buttercream. "Caroline, frosting isn't just about 'spreading it on.' It's about finesse. Precision. The right pressure." She picked up a perfectly cooled cupcake, held the piping bag fidently, and with a few smooth motions, swirled a perfect peak of frosting on top. It was bakery-level perfe.

  She pced it down and dusted her hands. "Boom. Art."

  Caroline blinked. "Okay, that was kind of impressive."

  Max handed her the piping bag. "Your turn."

  Caroliook it with all the fidence of a woman who had never used a piping bag in her life. "Easy."

  She squeezed.

  Nothing came out.

  She squeezed harder.

  A single, sad glob of frosting plopped onto the cupcake like it had given up on life.

  Max bit her lip. "Okay. Well. That's… something."

  Caroline frowned. "Why isn't it swirling?"

  Max sighed. "Because you're treating it like toothpaste. You gotta fi. Watch the wrist." She made a swirling motion in the air.

  Caroline huffed. "Fine. I'll try again."

  She grabbed another cupcake, adjusted her grip, and squeezed more fidently.

  This time, the frosting did e out.

  All at once.

  Caroline's eyes widened as the frostied from the piping bag in an untrolble surge, pletely burying the cupcake in a mountain of buttercream. It oozed over the edges, pooling onto the ter in a sticky, sugary mess.

  Max stared at the disaster, her lips twitg as she fought back a ugh. "Well," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "that's one way to do it. Very… explosive."

  Caroline groaned, dropping the piping bag onto the ter. "Max, this is not funny! Why is it so hard to trol?"

  Max leaned against the ter, her smirk widening. "Oh, I don't know, Caroline. Maybe because you're treating it like it's your first time and you're way too excited?"

  Caroline blinked, fused. "What are you even talking about?"

  Max raised an eyebrow, her grin turning wicked. "You know. First time. All that pressure, no finesse, and then... Bam!... everything just… es out at once."

  It took a sed for the implication to sink in. When it did, Caroline's face turned bright red. "MAX! That is not what's happening here!"

  Max shrugged, clearly enjoying herself. "Hey, I'm just saying. You're ag like a virgin on prom night. You gotta rex. Take your time. Don't just go squeezing like your life depends on it."

  Caroline groaned, c her face as Max cackled like a gremlin who had just discovered fire. "Max," she whined. " you stop making everything sound like an inappropriate joke for two minutes?"

  Max smirked, wiping a tear of ughter from her eye. "Caroline, I have known you for years. Have I ever dohat?"

  Caroline sighed. "No."

  Max beamed. "Exactly. Now, back to your tragic attempt at frosting." She picked up the piping bag and gave it a little shake. "The trick is pressure trol, babe. You 't just go all in without thinking..."

  Caroli her off. "Don't you dare make another metaphor."

  Max pouted. "You're no fun."

  Caroline grabbed another cupcake, inhaled deeply, and tried again. She gently squeezed the piping bag, carefully applying light pressure, and…

  It actually worked.

  A somewhat det swirl of frosting formed on top of the cupcake. Not as perfect as Max's, but definitely not a crime against baking.

  Caroline gasped. "I DID IT!"

  Max blinked. "Okay, not bad. Not great, but not bad."

  Caroline beamed. "It's an improvement!"

  Max nodded. "Yeah, at least it doesn't look like a frosting ndslide this time."

  Caroline wiped a bit of frosting off her fingers and smirked. "Well, now that I have the teique, I bet I do it better than you."

  Max snorted. "Oh, Blohat's adorable." She grabbed another cupcake and effortlessly piped a swirl that belonged in a Martha Stewart magazine. "Wan?"

  Caroline narrowed her eyes. "Oh, it's on."

  It started as a friendly petition.

  It ended in chaos.

  Caroline and Max went cupcake for cupcake, frosting eae with increasingly dramatic fir, determio outdo the other.

  Caroline: "Boom! Look at that swirl! Elegant. Sophisticated."

  Max: "Cute. But this? This is Michelin-star artistry."

  Carolihat's just showing off."

  Max: "You say that like it's a bad thing."

  But as the petition intensified, things took a turn.

  Caroline, in her frosting-fueled determination, applied too much pressure again. The piping bag exploded.

  SPLAT.

  A huge glob of buttercream shot out and hit Max directly in the face.

  Silence.

  Max slowly wiped the frosting off her cheek. She stared at Carolih the iy of a thousand suns.

  Caroline gulped. "Max."

  Max licked a bit of frosting off her lips. "Caroline."

  Caroliook a step back. "Let's be adults about this."

  Max picked up a handful of frosting.

  Caroline yelped. "MAX, WAIT...!!"

  Too te.

  Max smeared the frosting all over Caroline's face.

  Caroline screamed.

  And just like that, the Great Frosting War began.

  Buttercream flew across the kit. Cupcakes became casualties. At one point, Max used a spatu like a catapult, ung a glob of frosting straight at Caroline's hair.

  Carolialiated by grabbing a piping bag with both hands and squeezing it like a fire hose.

  Max barely dodged in time. "YOU MANIAC!"

  Caroline cackled. "I AM A FROSTING GODDESS!"

  They were covered in frosting. The ter was a crime se. Even the oven had buttercream battle scars.

  Max stood at one end, breathing hard, her hair streaked with vanil frosting like some kind of aint and she even got some on her boobs and around the er of her lips. Caroli the other end, was an absolute disaster. Her pastel sweater was now tie-dyed with buttercream, and her blonde hair had a thick dollop of frosting pstered to the side like an ill-ceived hair mask.

  For a moment, all was silent except for the slow, sticky plop of frosting dripping from the ceiling.

  Caroline wiped her face with a shaky hand, staring at the destru around them. "Max."

  Max, who was still holding ay piping bag like a spent on, raised an eyebrow. "Caroline."

  Caroline swallowed. "What… have we done?"

  Max gnced around, surveying the age with a proud little smirk. "Oh, I don't know, Blondie. I'd say we took the term 'baking disaster' to a whole new level."

  Caroline groaned, pulling at a se of her hair, which was now fused together with a thick glob of ig. "Ugh. My hair is ruined. It's so sticky."

  Max's smirk widened.

  Caroliiced. Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

  Max wiped a bit of frosting off her cheek with her finger and licked it off with a slow, exaggerated motion. Theilted her head, looking at Caroline's ig-drenched face, and grinned.

  "Oh, nothing," Max said, voice dripping with monoce. "I'm just saying… I've seen some sticky situations before, but this ohis oakes the cake."

  Caroline groaned. "Don't."

  Max licked another bit of frosting off her finger. "I mean, the sheer volume... impressive. The sistency? Thid… persistent."

  Caroline ched her jaw. "Max."

  Max waved a hand at Caroline's face. "And that gzed look? Very familiar."

  Caroli out a strangled noise. "MAX, STOP."

  Max ignored her, stepping forward with a wicked grin. "Just saying, sweetheart, if I had a dolr for every time I heard a girl pin about how crusty it gets after a while..."

  Caroline screamed and hurled a cupcake at Max's head.

  Max ducked just in time, cag like a gremlin as the cupcake smacked against the fridge and slid down in slow, tragic defeat.

  Caroline wiped at her face furiously, still gagging. "You are a literal menabsp;to society."

  Max waggled her eyebrows. "A, here you are. Covered. Drenched. Absolutely dripping in..."

  Caroline grabbed the hing, a frosting-coated whisk, and poi at Max like a on. "I swear to God, if you finish that sentence, I will end you."

  Max held up her hands, ughing. "Okay, okay! I'll behave."

  A beat of silence.

  Then Max gnced down at the sticky mess on her own hands, her smirk returning.

  "…But seriously, do you need a towel or a cigarette?"

  Caroli out a shriek and lunged. Max dodged, ughing, as Caroline chased her around the kit, wielding the whisk like a ossessed.

  Their cupcakes? Ruiheir kit? A disaster zone.

  But their war? Worth it.

  ....

  It took three whole days of trial, error, aional damage, but Caroline finally learned how to bake cupcakes.

  Not perfectly.

  Not effitly.

  But passably.

  She could mix batter without looking like she started a flour war. She could measure ingredients without eyeballing it like some kind of chaotic potion-maker. And most importantly? She could cra egg without shell fragments making a surprise guest appearance.

  Progress.

  Max, sitting on the ter like the gremlin she opped a stolen M&M into her mouth and watched as Caroline carefully scooped the batter into a tray.

  "Wow," Max drawled. "Look at you, Blondie. Measuring. P. Not burning the kit down. It's almost like you're a real baker."

  Caroline wiped her forehead dramatically. "Max, I have suffered."

  Max smirked. "Yeah, yeah. But you survived. And now, you're slightly less useless."

  Caroline scoffed. "That's the hing you've ever said to me."

  Max raised her coffee cup in a mock toast. "To character development."

  Caroline rolled her eyes, but she was beaming.

  Then Max cpped her hands. "Alright, training arc's over. You're officially allowed to bake, but frosting?" She shook her head. "Absolutely not. You're still a dao society."

  Caroline groaned. "Max, it was one frosting i."

  Max gave her a ft look. "Caroline, you mao create a buttercream tsunami. You drowned that poor cupcake."

  Caroline huffed. "Fine. You handle frosting. But I'm still calling that a creative flourish."

  Max snorted. "Sure. Flourish. Massacre. Tomato, tomahto."

  [One Night Before Delivery] [Rented Kit]

  The rented kit was a war zone.

  Flour covered the ters. Chocote smears lined Max's apron. Caroline had three oven burns and zero sanity left.

  And they were running on fumes. Or, more specifically... Max's 'Elf Juice.'

  "Drink." Max shoved a tiny bottle into Caroline's hands.

  Caroline eyed it warily. "What… is this?"

  Max grinned. "9-hour energy shot."

  Caroline frowned. "Nine? Not five?"

  Max scoffed. "Please. Five-hour energy is for cowards. This? This is Elf Juibsp;It keeps you awake, gives you tunnel vision, and may or may not make you feel like you're transdiy."

  Caroliated. "And… what's in it?"

  Max waved a hand. "Oh, y'know. This and that. Who cares?"

  Caroline's eye twitched. "I'll kill you if I die."

  Max patted her shoulder. "Only if you're weak."

  Caroline groaned, but at this point? Desperate times. She dowhe shot. Her pupils dited instantly. Her soul left her body. She felt every molecule of existence.

  "…Max."

  "Yes?"

  "I hear colors."

  Max smirked. "Wele to the speed forow get back to work."

  With Elf Juice c through their veins, Max and Caroline became maes.

  Batch after batch went into the ovens.

  Cooling trays lihe ters.

  Caroline mixed batter with the speed of a caffeinated cheetah.

  Max frosted like a ossessed, her hands moving in a blur, piping buttercream onto cupcakes with deadly precision.

  The clock ticked.

  2 AM.

  4 AM.

  6 AM.

  Max downed her fourth shot of Elf Juice.

  Caroline whispered, "I am oh the cupcakes."

  Max nodded solemnly. "May the cupcakes be with you, my blonde padawan."

  By 7 AM, they had do.

  1,000 cupcakes. Multi-fvored, plus Max's specials.

  plete.

  Caroline colpsed onto a stool. "Oh my God. It's over."

  Max wiped her forehead. "Holy shit. We're gods."

  They sat in stunned silearing at their sugary masterpiece.

  Then Caroline's eyes widened. "Wait. How are we delivering these?!"

  Max blinked.

  Silence.

  Then Max sprio her phone.

  "I'M CALLING A TRUCK."

  ----

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  [8 advance chs] [All chs avaible for all tiers]

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