This Love | ✓

Part 12

I gaped at the bright pink sign that read, "The greatest candy store on Earth."

A set of stairs designed like the keys of a piano led to the store entrance. A short musical note rang out when I set foot on the first step. I burst into amused laughter, almost falling over as I ran up and down the stairs.

Jason rushed over to grab my hand. An ecstatic grin stretched his lips, his face mirroring my happiness. Our hands entwined, we skipped up and down the steps, creating a random tune that was drowned out by our laughter. As his palm touched mine, a wave of heat passed through my fingers all the way to my heart. From there, the heat seemed to radiate throughout my body, down to the tips of my toes.

When we finally reached the top of the stairs, I noticed a large, wrought iron archway with the word "Wonka" fashioned out painted glass. Jason's hand disconnected from mine as he stepped towards it. Instantly, my fingers regretted the absence of his.

"Willy Wonka," I whispered in awe, ignoring the tug of longing in my stomach.

"Shall we?" Jason grinned.

Shuddering with excitement, I followed Jason into the large, brightly lit store. Jason's surprise for me turned out to be better than anything I had ever expected.

"I come here whenever I need some cheering up," he said with a soft chuckle.

The shiny black-and-white tiled floors, a thousand varieties of candy stacked in jars everywhere, the oohs and aahs of the excited crowd, and the adorable workers dressed as Oompa-Loompas were sure to lift even the lowest of spirits. Towering glass displays filled with sweets inspired by Charlie and the Chocolate Factory glinted under the lights, beckoning my attention.

Jason led me to a vending machine that dispensed free candy of every flavour under the sun. We took turns sampling them, experimenting with flavours ranging from raspberry pie to chocolate chip cookies.

"Look," Jason said, pointing to a stall manned by two youngsters in green polo shirts. "You can watch them make candy."

"Really?" I gasped, feeling like a five-year-old on a sugar rush.

On approaching the little stall, I noticed that the two people were busy working on a silver countertop, kneading and pulling at a mass of bright red goop.

"They make the candy from scratch," Jason explained, his eyes glinting with childlike fascination. "They even print whatever you want on the candy."

We stood next to a family of three, enraptured by the candy-making process. A young girl, presumably the daughter, clung to her mother's arm, squealing with excitement. Her eyes widened as she watched the two workers expertly roll the syrupy goop into uniform, shimmery sheets.

"Mommy, look!" she cried in joyous tones. Her mop of orange-red hair bounced when she jumped about shouting, "Magic!"

"Yes, baby," her mother agreed, bending to kiss her child's forehead. "It's like magic."

The father smiled, ruffling his daughter's hair affectionately.

A hot pang of jealousy pierced through me at the sight of the little girl, blessed with the love of both her parents. I blinked rapidly, forcing myself to look away from the family.

When I turned to Jason, I found him talking to the young man behind the counter in a hushed voice. The man nodded in understanding.

"What did you say to him?" I asked when Jason returned to my side.

"You'll see," he said, winking cryptically.

I lost track of time as I watched the two people turn the thick, syrupy substance into perfect, round candies right in front of my eyes.