Allison had excitedly come over to meet either Tony or me, I wasn't so sure. She had the remarkable ability to spend equal time with both of us and make us feel the centre of her world. Whereas my centre of the world, Isaac, was busy handling the orders and grumbles of the pernickety customers.

I felt an absurd pinch when he smiled politely at an elegantly dressed lady who generously tipped him. I excused myself from Tony and Allison and sidled up beside him. I teased, "Aren't you getting a lot of tips today?"

Allison overheard me because she clapped her hands and interfered, "How about we have the highest tip challenge between you two? The person who gets tipped the most, wins!"

"No need---"

"Sounds cool," Isaac agreed and I gawked incredulously at him. His pale grey eyes appeared the softest as he gazed adoringly at me. "It'll be fun, Ana."

"Fine." I smirked challengingly, tightening the apron around my waist. "Game on, buddy."

"Game on?" He grinned broadly, wrinkles rippling across the corners of his mouth. I couldn't help, but give him a quick kiss. "Aren't we opponents?"

"For good luck," I replied cheekily, then stood on my tiptoes to kiss him again. "This was for bad luck."

He burst out laughing, mockingly rolling up his sleeves. "We'll see."

And the game commenced with Allison, Tony and Lola our humble spectators and fans, but they found themselves cheering only for Isaac as any customers that entered went flocking towards Isaac like he was a magnet. He was definitely attractive and magnetic more than a magnet. I stood there idly, watching his charismatic appeal unravelling in front of them and hearing the customers talk incessantly in the background like crickets.

After one draining customer left, Isaac's eyes flickered to my empty tip jar and he removed his cap. "Let's take turns to serve the customers."

Everyone else nodded vigorously and I pitifully took the spot.

When an old lady strutted it with multiple shopping bags pressing against her flounce skirt, Allison squealed. "GO, MARIANA!"

I hung my head low in shame, mentally bidding farewell to the tip I could have received from this seemingly rich lady.

"I'm sorry, I won't do that again." Allison apologetically gestured to zip her mouth shut and throw the key somewhere far off, probably to the next state.

"There many who'll come," Lola offered her valuable consolation.

"Here," Tony said suddenly, his eyes at the glass door and in came the funniest looking person I had ever seen. He was in his mid-forties with the bushiest eyebrows that weighed over his tiny, blue eyes which seemed to always blink making him appear like an imbecile. His nose was a perfect triangle and he had a Charlie Chaplin moustache.

His looks shouldn't concern me and I was willing to even betray Isaac by unbuttoning my t-shirt just to get a tip.

But then, the man ordered an Espresso and salted caramel doughnuts in the squeakiest voice imaginable. I took a glimpse of my supporters and they all sensed that I would burst out giggling soon. I didn't disappoint their expectations as one lone giggle escaped my lips and to compensate that giggle, I laughed nervously till my entire body was uncontrollably shaking. The coffee was precariously about to spill and Isaac swooped in, grabbing it from me and sliding towards the baffled customer on the counter.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, still unable to hold back my laughter and secretly grateful for the absence of the pot-bellied manager.

The funny-looking customer barely paid for the coffee and doughnuts, sulking as he left, my tip jar emptier than my head.

"I give up," I said finally, trying to escape to the pantry before Isaac gripped my arm.

"Hey, come on. Try one more customer. I don't want to win this easy," he said mischievously and I raised my chin up.

"I can win if I put my mind to it. I just wasn't putting any efforts," I responded coolly. "Watch me, now."

Smiling, he crossed his arms and stood back. Lola, Tony and Allison went back in the pantry to bake a new batch of doughnuts, all of them annoyingly patting me. I shrugged away their sympathetic encouragement.

Renewed determination flared in my stomach as I stood rooted behind the counter, readily clutching a pair of tongs and snapping them like a vicious crab's claws.

A little boy came skipping in with his mother who was busy hissing at someone on the phone. She abstractedly fished out some money from her purse and handed it to the boy, muttering something to him. She slouched on one of the stools and the boy merrily headed straight to me, his big eyes glued to the glazed doughnuts.

I smiled down kindly at the boy, waiting for him to choose one. And I waited. And waited . . .

"Hey, which one do you want?" I asked impatiently.

The boy as if broken from a trance, looked up and pointed at blueberry doughnuts.

Relief flooded through me as I plated it up and just before I could put it in the oven to reheat, the boy interrupted, "No, the chocolate one."

I felt my fingers twitching while I placed the blueberry one back and took out the Belgium chocolate one. "Alright?"

"No!" He shook his head frantically. "That one." I placed the Belgium chocolate one back and took out the oreo chocolate one. "No, wait!" I dropped the doughnut in frustration, peevishly tapping my feet on the chess-tiled floor. "I don't know which one to buy."

I snatched the money from his small hands and replaced it with a large peanut butter doughnut, one of my favourites that I was sure he would enjoy and bring back his mother who would tip me.

"This is the yummiest," I said in an exaggerated sweet voice and the boy uncertainly went back, biting his doughnut.

"Well," Isaac whispered from behind me, placing his hands on my waist. "That was amusing to watch."

"I get all the weirdos. It's not fair," I retorted, safely distancing myself from him before I would do something indecent in front of all the customers. "I'll show you who is the real winner next time."

"You don't have to. You're always a winner to me."

"Is that so?" I quirked an eyebrow, about to give into my urges and kiss my cheeky looking boyfriend when I heard a devastating shriek.

My head whipped towards the source of sound, to find the little boy's face red and swollen like a fat tomato. The mother hastily gathered her belongings and rushed her child out. She shouted angrily at me on the way, "He's allergic to peanuts!"

I leaned on Isaac and tiredly thumped my head on his chest, making him chuckle softly. "How am I so bad at this?"

"I'm surprised too," he murmured against my blue-dyed hair.