Her hand went to the side of her neck as she took a giant step back, knocking into the stool she’d abandoned a couple of minutes ago. The legs wobbled on the tile for a noisy eternity, the clatter adding to the racket in his head.
“Anyway, so the frosting is already made.” She rounded the counter and opened the fridge, searching the contents as if it were her life’s purpose. “All we have to do is add dye, and then we can decorate with candies and sprinkles. One of the perks of eating junk food all the time is that I can have cookies for dinner without it affecting my performance in the lab.”
He made a noncommittal hmm noise. What else was there to do? Besides down a protein shake so he would have something of substance in his stomach before eating too many cookies. By the time he’d finished blending and drinking his first course, Julie had divided the enormous batch of frosting into several bowls, leaving one white, and coloring the others red, green, and yellow.
Carefully, she selected a tree-shaped cookie off the top of the pile and began covering it in green. Gavin, on the other hand, didn’t even pay attention to shapes. He simply plucked one off the top and grabbed the bowl closest to him—yellow.
“Wow, so you chose to go with the snowman made from snow that’d been peed on?” The adorable nose crinkle he couldn’t stop noticing made it clear how she felt about his decision. “How very appetizing. Did I forget to say that while we can obviously eat a few, your mom wants to deliver some to neighbors?”
“In that case…” Gavin plunked the goopy spoon back in the frosting and reached for the candy bowls. He figured this was more mature than replying your mom. With the chocolate chips dotting the yellow, the snowman looked about as appetizing as the bruised, speckled banana that Andy Johnson bet him ten dollars to eat back in sixth grade. Once you’ve had overly ripe, liquified banana, there was no going back. To this day, he still couldn’t eat a banana.
Don’t think about that.
Snapping his eyes to Julie’s, he shoved the entire cookie in his mouth. His cheek popped out on one side, and it was all he could do to chew with his mouth so full—evidently, he’d decided to regress to his childhood self.
That way, he was choosing not to woo her or do anything flirty, and of course there wouldn’t be any kissing. Solid logic, Frost.
“Amateur,” she said, snagging two cookies from the top of the pile. He wasn’t sure she’d picked the right word. Juvenile, harebrained, asinine. All those fit, and through the years, she’d called him those and worse.
She placed a huge dollop on one of the cookies and then smashed the other on the top. She heaped on more white frosting, scooped a handful of mini M&Ms, and placed it atop the cloud-shaped monstrosity. Red and green gummy bears went next, along with mini marshmallows, and then she topped the entire thing with sprinkles.
There was no way she was actually gonna—
She jammed the entire cookie in her mouth, same way he’d done. Icing escaped one corner of her mouth and oozed partway down her chin as she worked to keep the cookie and myriad toppings inside. Her attempt at a laugh as she wiped the frosting off her face with the back of her hand resulted in a shower of cookie crumbs.
“I think I…” Both of Julie’s cheeks popped out, chipmunk-in-the-woods style. “Bit off more than I could chew.”
She giggled at her own joke, and he laughed along with her.
“Starting to regret your choice yet?” he asked, and she adamantly shook her head. Then she shielded her hand with her mouth.
“…Ooo eee at?” After giving her a scrunched-up expression to convey he couldn’t understand a word she’d said, she pointed at the light fixture over the kitchen counter. “Isthletoe. It asn’t there dith morning, was it?”
Sure enough, plastic sprigs of the plant Mom had become obsessed with were wound around the light fixture hanging over the island. Festive, but he doubted that was the sole reason Mom had added the last-minute decoration.
“I swear.” He lifted an unfrosted cookie and eyed it, twisting it this way and that. “Now I’m worried she put it in the cookies.”
Julie swallowed her mouthful, the gulp loud without the commotion that came from having more than just the two of them around. “I wouldn’t put it past her or my mom to take it that far, but surely they realize mistletoe is poisonous. Right?”
“Well, it’s already too late for both of us, so…” He shrugged and forewent a spoon in favor of dipping the cookie directly in the creamy, fluffy red frosting. This time, he decided to eat it one bite at a time.
“Plot twist, one of these candies contains the antidote. However will we figure out which one?” She picked up a mini marshmallow and pinched it between two fingers. “Open your mouth, and we’ll start testing.”
Considering he was already having trouble with his runaway libido, he shouldn’t comply. But the idea of her feeding him, like in one of those cheesy movies she forced him to watch with her? Game on.
After swallowing the last of his cookie and swiping his tongue around his mouth to remove the remnants from his teeth, he parted his lips.
“Hello, did you forget how bad of a shot I am? When we used to play Horse, I was the only player allowed to spell horseshoes, and I still got out before the rest of you.”
Memories of the countless hours they’d spent in the driveway shooting baskets flickered. He could hear the bounce of the ball, feel the texturized leather under his fingertips. Dad, Nikita, himself, and Jules, out on the unforgiving court that’d robbed them all of a layer or two of skin throughout the years. Regardless of countless tips and lessons on form, Julie’s shots were wild and inconsistent. They fell short or went too far, and adding extra letters had not only convinced her to play anyway, but also helped her remain in the game longer. With each miss, she also became funnier and funnier, and was as likely to chuck the ball at his head as at the hoop.
Despite the pinch of disappointment that she wouldn’t be sensually feeding him treats, cookie decorating was about to be a lot more fun. He opened as wide as he could, and she fired the marshmallow at his mouth.
It binged him in the forehead, and she laughed and picked up a few more. The next one hit his cheek before bouncing off his chest and landing on the floor.
“At this rate,” he said, “I’ll die from the poison before we figure out which candy contains the antidote.”
Three marshmallows hit him in the face at the same time, and he skirted the island to dive for cover.
“You could help, you conceited ass,” she taunted. “Even your receivers have to work to catch your wonky passes sometimes.”
He gasped, loud and dramatic. Then he planted his hand on the corner of the island counter and completed a badass slide across it, like a getaway driver would do to the hood of a car. Julie’s eyes bulged to cartoon character levels, a squeal coming out as she backpedaled toward the fridge. “Didn’t think I could hurdle that, did you?” he asked.