The Toast Surprise Novels & Stories

I kind of love that he wants to do something this… normal with me. By some miracle (or maybe because the hostess recognized him through the world’s worst disguise), we’re seated within fifteen minutes. The place smells like coffee and sugar and way-too-expensive bread. The menu, though, is chaos. “Twenty bucks for avocado toast?” I whisper. “Is the avocado gold-plated?” “Deconstructed waffle flight,” Liam reads. “What the hell does that mean? The waffle comes in pieces?” I snort. “Order it. I want to see.”

“Just before you all think I’ve completely gone nuts, let me tell you about the toast saga.” Striding toward the toaster, he inspected the ashen wreckage inside with a mock grimace. “So, I figured I would start ahead of dinner. I thought I’d warm some bread for an appetizer. How hard could it be, right?” Luca snorted, and Jordan shot him a mock glare. “Well,” Jordan continued, raising a finger, “it turned out very hard. I was distracted arranging the table and when I remembered the toast, it was too late. “I thought I’d doubled everything up, but … apparently I hadn’t doubled it up enough.”

I shift on the stool, my damp jeans cling to my skin and the ache in my tummy feels like more than hunger alone. “How does sauteed mushrooms in a garlic cream sauce on brioche toast sound?” he looks across at me as he fills his arms with food from the double wide fridge freezer. I don’t have an answer, I have never had anything that sounds remotely like what he just said. Mushrooms, sure. Garlic, love it. Cream, who doesn’t enjoy cream? What is brioche toast and do I want it covered in what sounds like mushroom soup?

I admitted. “Of course it is.” “What is it?” I asked, peering at the spread on the tray. His smile widened as he eagerly explained the components of the dish. “Brown-butter brioche French toast with vanilla mascarpone, roasted peaches and pistachios.” “That’s impressive.” I nodded approvingly, taking another bite from the slice in his hand. “I’m glad you like it.” I didn’t know what to think of this. What happened earlier was scary, but maybe it was just a bad moment and nothing more. I convinced myself of that while subtly hiding my bruised wrist beneath the covers so that I wouldn’t worry him.

The air crackled with unspoken questions. She eyed a plain slice of toast on the counter. Safe. Bland. Maybe she could manage it. She picked it up, took a small, tentative bite. The taste of plain wheat was tolerable. Hope flickered. A second, slightly larger bite. Then, the butter Albert had used earlier on his own toast registered. A thin, greasy film seemed to coat her tongue. Her stomach lurched violently, a familiar, terrifying freefall. "Oh god," she gasped, dropping the toast.

“Look at this. I’d hardly call this toast, but it’s all I can get that thing to do.” Rave held out an empty plate. “Here, let me see.” Judy dropped the bread onto the plate. Leesa smiled, knowing what was coming next. Rave put the plate down on the table and held his palms out over the bread. In seconds, the smell of toasting bread filled the room. He flipped the two slices over and repeated the process on the other side. When he took his hands away, the bread was toasted a golden brown. “How’s this?” he asked.

“I made toast!” He shoved a plate toward Tyler, proudly presenting a slice that looked like it had narrowly survived a house fire. Tyler blinked at it, then accepted the plate like it was a royal offering. “This is… impressive,” he said, biting into it without hesitation. I watched his jaw work as he swallowed, barely hiding a grimace. “Good, right?” Gavin asked, expectant. Tyler smiled faintly. “Best toast I’ve had in years.” Gavin beamed. I almost smiled too.

“Please, just let me disappear. Cover me with this expensive duvet and let everything stop. It feels like my career is over. Maybe I should step away from the world for a while.” "Eat the toast, Miss Rayne," Gabriel said, ignoring my drama. "It’s avocado and sourdough. It will help with the poison you put in your body." I peeked over the covers. "Is it organic?" Gabriel actually rolled his eyes. It was a very small movement, but for him, it was practically a tantrum. "Yes. It’s organic." I sat up, reaching for the water. I took the aspirin and shoved a piece of toast into my mouth. It was delicious. I hated him for it.

"Look! Light on, light off!" Max and Sam fell quiet suddenly as they watched with a pout as Damon opened and closed the fridge door. They were still crying and snot ran down from their nose and onto their chin. "No?" Damon looked around frantically for a better distraction. His eyes fell on the toaster. "Ah, what about this," He hastily put two slices of bread in the toaster and put it on its lowest setting. "You'll like this, loves. Trust me, the first time I saw this back it honestly made me jump." Suddenly, the toast popped up with a ping, and Damon watched as Max and Sam blinked in surprise.

Zack had some seriously deep pockets. After a moment's thought, I sat down again. Zack waved his hand, and the waiter began serving us food. I kept my head down and ate. I then recalled texting him from across the table at the Esprian restaurant the other day. This had to be the most epic instance of social suicide. The meal was completely unenjoyable. It was like a silent film. When dessert came, Zack finally spoke. "Aren't you going to give me the flowers you so thoughtfully prepared?"