“I love this food coloring,” I said in satisfaction.
“Livens things up a little. Should we divide them between us?”
I counted. “We have odd numbers of T. rexes and pterodactyls.”
“I’ll take an extra pterodactyl, you can have the extra T. rex.”
“Well, okay, but I think Team T. Rex can kick Team Pterodactyl’s ass.”
“I’m pretty sure there are birds alive today that descend from pterodactyls.”
“Oh-ho-ho, common myth, my friend, common myth. Though I think birds might actually be dinosaurs, they do not descend from pterodactyls.” I took a bow. “Thank you, I watch a lot of weird documentaries.”
They stared at me. “No. Really?”
“Yep yep.”
“But...but... I liked the idea of dangerous looking ptero-birds flying around somewhere.” They looked totally crestfallen.
“Um. I feel like I just told you Santa’s not real.”
“That is exactly what you did.” They grabbed my upper arm, shaking me a little. “Why can’t you let me have my illusions of pterodactyls, Declan?”
“If I’d known how much it meant to you...no, I probably would have told you, anyway. But I would have been more gentle about it!”
“I’m sad now. I’m in mourning.”
I hid my smile.
“I’m in mourning for the pterodactyls I will never see in real life.” Their voice began to rise dramatically. “All these years I have fantasized about taking a trip somewhere—a rain forest, maybe—and seeing birds that shared DNA with pterodactyls, but now, in one fell swoop, you have destroyed this dream.”
“I am a monster,” I agreed solemnly.
“Truly. You are a thief of dreams.”
I lost it. “Oh my god, a thief of dreams.” My maniacal cackling set Sidney off and then both of us were losing it a little, maybe because we were anxious about the date, maybe because the idea of a thief of dreams was legit funny. Probably more the former than the latter.
Sometimes the brain triggers a burst of absurd amusement when it registers a high level of emotional tension. I didn’t see that in a documentary or anything. I made it up. But it’s totally accurate. Science should find a way to do a study. Or no, we could! After The Love Study we could find other stuff to study! I’d propose it to Sidney maybe, but later, when I was better able to decide how bad an idea it was.
Decorating cookies went well, and I managed to make a pterodactyl with a hot-pink-with-electric-blue-rim Santa hat on it for them. “Sorry I ruined Pterodactyl Claus for you,” I said, presenting it with a flourish.
“I’ll recover. I made you a rainbowish brontosaurus.”
“Aww, you did?” It was super cute, with rows of pink-yellow-green-blue stripes all down its long body and a green head with yellow eyes. “Thank you! I shall call him Stripey. And spare him as long as I can afford to do so.” I paused reverently. “And then I shall eat him with all due respect.”
They grinned. “That’s how you show your respect to a cookie, I think: you eat it.”
“Good point. Speaking of, let’s finish this and then do some eating.”
“I didn’t bring any non-cookie food, sorry.”
I waved at the fridge. “It’ll only take me fifteen minutes to make pasta, no worries.” Yes. The sauce was ready. Go, past me. Way to pre-make sauce. I wanted to jump up and down with joy at my foresight, but thought it best to act casual.
My business card should read: Declan Swick-Smith: not good at casual.
“I-made-a-sauce,” I mumbled.
“You what?”
“Made a sauce. I hope you like garlic.” Wow, it’s like I went out of my way to be unkissable. “Upon reflection, maybe garlic wasn’t the best choice. I was trying to show off. The sauce is really good, though. It’s cheesy and garlicky and has a little bit of a pepper kick.”
“That sounds delicious.”
I barely restrained myself from pouting. “I mean, I love the sauce? But also I am looking forward to making out later? Then I made a very freaking garlicky sauce. Like a jackass.”
Sidney swallowed, very possibly looking at my lips. “We have some time in our schedules now, if you want to...make use of it. Um. With kissing.”
“Yes! I mean, yes, very calm, very measured yes.”
“While the icing...sets. I think that’s a thing.”
“Icing setting, of course. Sure. All the cookbooks talk about using your, uh, icing-setting time wisely.”
“Like kissing.”
“I’m sure I read that in Julia Child.”
They smiled. “I really like you, Declan.”
“I really like you too.”
Their lips were soft and citrusy, sweet with icing. In a way it felt almost first-kissish, maybe because of the aforementioned emotional tension. I focused on the small area of our skin touching, trying to keep myself in the moment.
Sidney leaned in, taking it deeper—
Clack.
—until our glasses bumped and both of us drew back.
“Oh god, sorry.” They turned away.
“No biggie, and I think it’s a shared responsibility. I’m sorry too.” Cue awkwardness. “So um...do you think the icing’s set?”
“Definitely.”
“Should I put on water for pasta while we quality inspect our dinosaurs?”
“Sounds good.”
The dinosaurs tasted good (which we already knew, since we’d sampled both the cookies and the icing as we worked). And the pasta sauce was freaking exceptional. If I do say so myself.
* * *
We had cookies and more cocoa on the couch later. I’d put on a baking show and turned down the volume, just to have something going in case conversation fizzled out. A precautionary measure. This was the thing I’d wanted all night and maybe I’d built it up too much in my head, or maybe I was too self-conscious after feeling like I was date-failing an amazing date, but I was glad the TV was on in the background.
Sidney seemed to be in a weird mood too, or else I was projecting. I’d asked about something mundane, but we’d wandered into talking about their past dating history, which, given the nature of our relationship and YouTubeness, I knew almost nothing about.
“I figured you had a traumatic dating experience and swore off it or something.” I leaned my head on the back of the Jenkinses’ couch where we were facing each other, both of us clutching hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows.