Page 11

alex

I’d never admit to anyone that I spent the whole day waiting, rushing home after practice just in case she knocked on the door again. I’d never say that out loud—because, of course, it didn’t happen.

I tossed my hockey gear into the guest bedroom and hurried to the bathroom, grabbing the cleanest pair of sweats I could find. I grabbed the mouthwash and swished it around because I just wanted to have fresh breath... in case. My eyes landed on the bottle of cologne sitting on the counter.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, giving myself a quick spray.

It’s just for a friend.

Back in the living room, I flicked on the TV, needing some kind of distraction from the gnawing uncertainty in my chest. What if she didn’t come tonight? I glanced at the clock—9 p.m. I could wait... If she didn’t come, then I’d be okay.

I was knee deep in a Law and Order rerun when my phone pinged, and I realized she was at the door.

I shot off the couch, but curiosity got the best of me, so I opened the app and watched as she did the same thing she always did.

She looked out at the hallway, and it was as if I could see the gears working in her brain.

I knew my timing was precarious, though, because I had to get to her before she ran away.

Just as she was about to turn for the fifth time down the hall, I opened the door.

“You know, I can see you.”

She laughed and held out her hands. “I felt bad.”

I gave her a quick once-over, making sure she looked okay before a smile crept onto my face. “Why?”

“I was running out of the house. He went out late tonight and said he wasn’t coming back until after practice tomorrow. I was planning on?—”

“I have an idea.” I cut her off, not wanting her to feel like she needed to make up an excuse to be here. “The cookies you made me that first night? Want to show me how to bake them?”

Her eyes lit up. “Do you have the ingredients?”

“Yup. Even bought chocolate chips to try and recreate that recipe. I’ve never really been a sweets guy, but after tasting those, I might be converted.”

I stepped aside, pressing my back against the wall to let her in.

She glanced up at me, her blue eyes wide and full of life, a bit of the heaviness melting away. “I’d love to teach you.”

She skipped into the apartment, right into the kitchen, where she opened the cabinets until she found where I kept the pantry ingredients.

“I remember this recipe by heart.”

While she rummaged through my cabinets, I shamelessly let my eyes wander, watching as she bent over to grab everything she needed.

She was wearing a pair of dark blue leggings that hugged her curves perfectly, with an oversized quarter-zip sweater draped over her frame.

Her blonde hair fell past her shoulders, swaying with each movement. She had the most perfect curve?—

Nope. Not going there.

I cleared my throat a few times, trying to snap myself out of it.

She glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling into a small smile. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head quickly. “Er-uh—Do you need any help?”

“Sorry,” she giggled, turning back to her search. “I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home while looking for the ingredients.”

“Not at all,” I assured her, moving closer to where she stood by the island. “So, tell me what we do first.”

We started gathering the ingredients, and I felt a rush every time she flashed me that bright, carefree smile. It was like seeing a different side of her, one not weighed down by the heaviness of him . It felt damn good to see her so lighthearted, so at ease.

“Okay. We need to cream the butter and sugar together first. Got a mixer?”

I gave her a sheepish grin. “Not unless you count my hands.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly amused. “Well, it’s going to take some serious muscle to mix it all together. Think you can handle it?”

I leaned in closer, a smirk playing on my lips. “Oh, I think I’ve got it covered, Anastasia. You just needed an excuse to watch me flex, didn’t you?”

She laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d actually get your hands dirty.”

“Is that a challenge?” I grabbed the bowl and the spoon, flexing dramatically. “Watch and learn.”

I started mixing, and she stood right beside me, her eyes darting between the bowl and my arms.

I grinned wider, pretending to struggle. “You know, you could help out instead of just standing there admiring me.”

“Please,” she said, reaching for the bag of flour.

As she tried to scoop some flour into the bowl, her hand slipped, and a cloud of flour exploded between us, dusting both our faces and the front of our shirts.

I blinked through the haze, and she let out a startled gasp, then burst into laughter. “It’s a mess.”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be the pro at this.”

She turned to grab a towel to wipe us both off, but I grabbed onto her elbow, stopping her.

I scooped up a bit of flour on my finger and tapped it on the tip of her nose. “Well, you’re clearly the messy one here.”

She gasped, eyes widening playfully. “Oh, it’s on.”

Before I could react, she grabbed a handful of flour and flicked it at me, and suddenly, we were both laughing and covered in a mess.

“Alright, alright.” I held up my hands in surrender, flour sticking to my skin. “You win. You definitely win.”

“Maybe,” she said, still giggling, “but we still haven’t actually made the cookies.”

I took the spoon back, shaking my head, still unable to wipe the grin off my face. “You know,” I murmured, leaning in just a bit closer. “I think I’m starting to enjoy getting my hands dirty with you.”

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, and she quickly turned away, reaching for a towel. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, but I caught the small smile tugging at her lips as she wiped off the flour scattered across the counter.

We continued baking, side by side, falling into an easy rhythm.

The task was simple, mundane even—mixing ingredients, measuring out chocolate chips—but somehow, it didn’t feel ordinary at all.

There was something about the way we moved together, bumping into each other as we reached for the same spoon or laughing when we spilled sugar on the counter, that made it feel like we’d been doing this for years.

She handed me the bag of chocolate chips, her fingers brushing against mine. “You better not eat half of them before they make it into the dough.” She teased me, her eyes flicking up to meet mine with a playful glint.

I smirked, grabbing a few and popping them into my mouth anyway. “Too late,” I mumbled through the chocolate, and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

But I caught the small smile tugging at her lips and the way her gaze lingered on me for a beat longer.

We worked in comfortable silence—the only sounds were the occasional clink of the spoon against the bowl or the soft hum of a song playing from her phone.

And as she stood there, licking a bit of batter off her thumb, I realized that if this were the foundation of a real friendship, I’d never want it to end.

It was effortless, like we’d known each other in another life, and I wondered if she felt it too—the way the air seemed to thicken whenever our eyes met, or how her laughter seemed to echo in the empty spaces of my heart.

“Okay, your turn to scoop,” she said, handing me the spoon.

She was close now, close enough that I could see the tiny flecks of flour dusting her cheeks and the way her blonde hair fell around her face.

We scooped out the dough together, fingers brushing more times than could be considered innocent, and once the tray was ready, she slid it into the oven.

“Now we wait,” she announced, giving me a little grin as she wiped her hands on a towel.

I leaned against the counter, watching her with a smile of my own. “Nine whole minutes, huh? How will we ever pass the time?”

We settled onto the stools at the counter, the warm scent of baking cookies already filling the air, but all I could focus on was the way her knee pressed lightly against mine, neither of us pulling away.

There was an ease between us, something natural and unforced. Was this what real friendship looked like, or was something more woven into the way my heart tightened whenever she laughed or how her presence seemed to fill all the empty spaces inside me?