If I’d had any doubt this cheekbone-forward boy behind me was the same person who I’d bonded with doing dragon-egg quests with all summer, that doubt flew out the window with that statement. Animal facts. This was totally LostAxis. I ignored my racing heart.
“What, are you, like, a cow expert or something?” I asked.
“I went to my ex-girlfriend’s uncle’s dairy farm once, and you wouldn’t believe the output on those things. Hey, did you know thatheiferrefers to female cows that have not had a calf? So you can’t milk a heifer.”
LostAxis had a really nice-sounding voice. It made me wish I’d asked for his phone number weeks ago so we could have actuallytalkedwhile playing. His voice was deep, kind of smooth, and had an undercurrentof mischief. I shivered, imagining that low voice asking me to heal him, or warning me about centaurs ahead, or telling me about the .22 caliber punch of a mantis shrimp.
Sigh. I should say something. He was my friend—he might not mind about the whole picture and Earl’s Whispers situation. I decided to tell him after we were done inventorying. I inspected the jars on the shelf next to the beef fat. “Eight jars of maraschino cherries. This is such a weird assortment of stuff.”
He nodded. “A trendy restaurant that had a pastry kitchen downtown closed and donated all this to the shelter. The shelter gets donations from bakeries and restaurants all the time, but not usually so much at once. They also donated a whole bunch of pies they had in their freezer. I was bringing in the last of them when we met. We’re not going to sell them at the market, because we didn’t actually make them. There’s extra—if you want to take one home, you can.”
“You should carry fewer pies at a time so you can actually see where you’re going when you walk into a room.” I sounded snarky. I didn’t really mean to, but I was embarrassed and irritated and couldn’t hide it.
He was silent a moment.
Ugh. This was so awkward. I should definitely tell him we were friends. We could laugh about meeting this way and go back to slaying dragons tomorrow.
This whole situation—this whole week—was doing a number on my nerves.
“Well, you shouldn’t stand with your back to doorways and your face in a bag of powdered sugar.” He was mimicking the annoyance in my voice, and yet somehow, he still sounded playful.
I turned to look at him. I absolutely had to see the expression that went with that tone of voice.
Daniel had kind of a smirking smile on his face while he was writing on the clipboard. And when he saw me looking at him, he grinned. A wide grin that somehow made his cheekbones even sharper.
I couldn’t help it. I returned his smile. “Maybe Iwantedto cover myself in sugar to make a memorable first impression.”
He chuckled. “I love sugar, so you succeeded there. You exceeded my wildest fantasies.” He saidfantasieslow and sultry. Flirty.
I quickly turned away from him again. “Dried cranberries. One-point-eight-kilo bags, two bags.”
“Got it.”
I kept counting, but my mind started to wander. Was I absolutely sure this was LostAxis? Because if I said something and itwasn’thim, it would be even more embarrassing. I needed to work with this guy, Daniel, all semester. All I had to go on was one picture. Was it possible that there was more than one burly, sharp-cheekboned, hot Asian guy in Canada?
What was I saying? Ofcourseit was possible. There were probably hundreds in Toronto alone. This was the most diverse city in the world. It was fine. This guy wasn’t LostAxis—just someone who looked a lot like him. Maybe a relative.
“That’s mixed peel,” he said, pointing to the last stack of containers on the shelf.
“Huh?”
“You looked confused. It’s not labeled, but it’s mixed peel.”
I nodded and counted the containers of whatever mixed peel was. “There’s eight.” I moved to the next shelf. Only one shelf left.
“What’s this?” I said, holding out a block of ... something.
“That’s lard.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew. Now pig fat. There’s”—I did a quick count—“six of these blocks.” Nose still wrinkled, I put the block of lard back on the shelf.
“You vegan or something?” Daniel asked.
“What? Oh, no. I mean, I don’t eat lard. I’m Muslim. But I eat beef and chicken.”
“Just not in your baked goods.”
“Preferably.” I turned back to the shelf. “Thank goodness I didn’t get a face full of this stuff.” I made a disgusted face.
