Week one of this project has already started. That means there are eight weeks left and unknowingly, I started to count down the days.
I've already binge-read a ton of articles on dates and romantic gestures. Baking felt like a classic, maybe even cliché idea but it kept coming up in every list. Sweet, simple, thoughtful. It ticked all the boxes. Except for one tiny problem.
I hadn't baked since I was fifteen.
The last time I tried, I used salt instead of sugar. My dad took one bite, smiled like it was the best thing in the world, and then quietly drank a full glass of water in one gulp. Everyone else spat it out like it was poison. Since then, I stuck to being the family eater, not the baker.
But that's why I want to try again. Perhaps, I could have improved from the years gone by.
Still, I didn't want to burn down the dorm.
I am a perfectionist and have watched a lot of baking tutorials over the past few days. Though I'm not an expert, I think I can pull it off... maybe. I just needed the right ingredients. I took a screenshot of the grocery list and stared at my ramen-and-ready-meal pantry in defeat.
I threw on a hoodie and left. I made sure to inform Jacob before I hurriedly made my way off campus. The sun was already beginning to set and I wanted to get back before it got too dark.
I fastened my pace, hoping to get back in time to bake, study, and sleep.
On the way to the grocery store, just ten minutes from campus, I spotted a familiar silhouette and a very familiar dog.
From a distance, I recognized the posture before anything else.
Kenon and Polo.
Of course. The universe couldn't let me shop in peace.
I contemplated going the long way around but realized this was the nearest exit, and I was already short on time. Mentally rolling my eyes, I slowed down, trying to keep some distance between us.
But as if fate wanted to mess with me, Polo decided to stop walking completely, sniffing something invisible and refusing to budge. Kenon tugged on the leash, frustrated.
"What is wrong , Polo?"
My footsteps must have given me away because Kenon looked up at that exact moment.
Polo spotted me too and his tail wagged like we were best friends.
"Ciro," Kenon said with a small smile. "Looks like Polo's taken a liking to you."
I stopped walking and deadpanned, "The very same dog that almost made me drown?"
Kenon chuckled, not even pretending to feel bad. "He's got bad taste."
Kenon looked down at Polo, then back at me.
"Are you heading to the store?" he asked, like we hadn't been avoiding each other for a week since we did our journal entry.
I nodded, not in the mood to talk but not heartless enough to ignore him.
He gave a tug to Polo's leash and fell into step beside me.
"Perfect. I was just heading that way too."
Of course you were.
We walked in silence. Polo trotted ahead, sniffing every crack like it was hiding treasure. I tried focusing on the clouds, the trees, literally anything except Kenon.
"Is it a ramen emergency?" he suddenly asked.
"What?"
"You ran out of ramen? I know you don't cook."
I rolled my eyes. "I choose not to cook. Doesn't mean I can't but I'm going to bake."
He blinked. "You? Baking?"
"Yes. I can bake," I muttered, slightly defensive.
A lie? Maybe. A little.
The walk to the store felt like an hour instead of ten minutes.
When we got there, he grabbed a basket and handed it to me.
"What are we making?"
"We?" I raised an eyebrow.
"I'm emotionally invested now."
I rolled my eyes again but didn't push it. In the food aisle, I pulled up the screenshot.
Flour. Sugar. Butter. Eggs. Chocolate chips.
As I placed things in the basket, Kenon trailed behind, tossing in nonsense.
"Do we need gummy worms?"
"No."
"They'd add personality."
"No."
He dropped them anyway. I let them stay.
Then he whipped out his phone and aimed it at me.
"Smile."
"What? No."
"Too late." Click.
I stared at him. "Delete that."
He smirked. "Relax. It's just for the journal."
"Didn't we already have an entry?"
"The more the better."
At checkout, I paid while he played with Polo. He took the bags on the way out.
"I got it," I said.
"I'm being a gentleman," he replied.
I didn't argue.
As we neared the dorm, I stopped. "I can take it from here."
Kenon nodded and passed me the bag without protest.
"Night," he said.
"Night."
I hurried to the shared kitchen, dropped the bags, and raced to my room to shower. I needed to feel fresh before facing the warzone that was about to become my kitchen.
The shower was quick. I returned to the kitchen determined and slightly nervous. I pulled up the recipe and got started.
Within five minutes, flour was on my sweater, I accidentally dropped two eggs, and the butter exploded in the microwave because I forgot to cover it.
Jacob poked his head in once. "Are you fighting the oven or dating it?"
"Leave," I said, pointing at the door with a wooden spoon.
Batch one came out flat and pale. Batch two was burnt.
Batch three... finally looked right. Crispy edges, gooey centers. The smell was heavenly. By then, it was 2 a.m.
I stared at the cookies. My eyes stung from the oven heat and sleep deprivation. Was it even worth it?
Yes. I thought it was.
I packed the best ones in a cute box, sprinkled just a bit of my pheromones like the article said and set my alarm before crashing into bed.
The alarm went off three times before I actually turned it off. I was dead tired, but at least my lecture was at ten. It was only 8:30 now.
I dressed in a casual fit, a hoodie and sweatpants. I didn't have the energy to go digging through my wardrobe. My brain was still foggy from the late night bake-a-thon, and my legs felt like noodles.
Jacob met me outside the dorm, looking far too awake for someone in a 10 a.m. lecture.
We were both majoring in fashion, which made days like this ironic.
We lived for dressing up. Ever since we were kids, we were the ones turning bed sheets into runways and coloring on white tees with markers.
But today? Today I looked like I lost a fight with my laundry basket. And Jacob didn't even comment.
Our lecture dragged on for three whole hours, with only a fifteen-minute break in between. My notes were barely legible, my doodles turned into spirals, and my eyelids fought gravity the entire time.
Once the lecture ended, I dragged myself to the cafeteria, stomach growling. But food wasn't the mission today.
Tucked inside my bag was the box of cookies. If I didn't give it to Kenon now, I probably never would. Walking around with that box for another day felt... unbearable.
I scanned the room and there was no sign of him. But his friend Lucian was seated nearby. I approached him casually, trying to hide the nervous energy buzzing through me.
"Hey. You seen Kenon?"
Lucian glanced at the box in my hands, then nodded toward the hallway. "Vending machine."
Great.
I made my way to the hallway, the box feeling heavier with every step. My nerves were winning, twisting up my gut. Why was I so nervous? They're just cookies.
Except they were cookies made for Kenon.
I spotted him by the vending machine, bent over slightly, wrestling with the buttons like they owed him money.
This was it.
My fingers tightened around the box, and my heart thundered in my chest like it was trying to escape.
No turning back now