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Giggles likes Splendid so much that she feels heavy with it, but she doesn't want to tell him.
“There’s no way Splendid would even like me,” Giggles says, scoffing. She sighs wistfully and stirs a packet of creamer into her coffee. “I mean, come on. Look at him.” She looks up at a poster of Splendid on the wall. “He's a hero. I would never be good enough for Splendid.”
“Don't say that,” Petunia chides. “He comes to save you more than anyone else in this town.”
“But he must think I'm stupid for getting into trouble so often,” Giggles groans, holding her face in her hands. “I just want him to like me.”
The barista who had made their coffees earlier comes to their table and personally serves them a slice of strawberry shortcake. Or rather, he serves Giggles a slice of strawberry shortcake. Her favorite. “The person— the guy who bought the cake says, says— he is an admirer— admirer of yours.” Who could it be?
“We can split it,” Giggles says first to Petunia. And then she looks up at the barista, Nutty, and asks, “Did he leave his name to you?”
“It's— someone named Clyde,” Nutty says, spasming and sputtering in that way of his. “Does that— ring a bell in any way to you?”
Petunia looks at Giggles in confusion, but Giggles only lifts a hand to the side of her face and twirls a lock of her hair. Oh, Splendid.
Splendid could be so sneaky sometimes. She doesn't know why he knows her favorite flavor of cake or why he seems to think she would like him better if he plays hard to get or even why he would leave the name of his civilian persona to the café instead of just coming to her himself, but she likes Splendid so much she could wait forever— or a long time— for him to come out and tell her he likes her.
Giggles spears a piece of the cake into her mouth. It tastes sweet. Like a new beginning, maybe, if only he would be brave enough someday soon to come and get her himself.