It was Daniel. And he was, of course, grinning. I carefully used a paper towel to dab at the stupid tear falling from my eye so it wouldn’t mess up my makeup.
Daniel frowned. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just something in my eye.”
“I thought you were as deeply moved by the square/cookie/cake controversy as me.”
I stared at him. It was extra cruel that the guy who was kind-of sort-of causing my problems right now was super cheerful and kind of silly.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
Now, Daniel grinned again. I was starting to suspect grinning was his resting face. “Squares and bars are pretty much cookies, right? Dense and dry. Ha! Sounds like my math teacher. But also, squares are like cake. You have to cut them into pieces to eat them. And they can betender and moist, too. Whoops. Sorry. I should have asked if you were averse to the wordmoistbefore saying it. Anyway, squares are like if cake and cookies had a love child.”
“Do you often have deep thoughts about baked goods?” I asked as I closed my math textbook.
He shrugged, then pulled out the stool next to mine and sat. Up close, he smelled clean and sweet—like vanilla. “I try not to have too many deep thoughts at all. But yes, when I do have them, they are often about baked goods. Or about the NHL draft, but I don’t think you care about that as much as I do, so I decided to go with baked goods.”
“Perceptive. I can’t understand how anyone would bethatinto hockey.”
“Oooh, savage ... the Count is nerd-shaming me.”
“The Count?”
He nodded. “I thought of that nickname last night. Yasmin called you a vampire, and you said you love counting. So you’re the Count. You know ... fromSesame Street? One!One surly math-nerd.Mwa-ha-ha!” He did a terrible impression of theSesame Streetcharacter.
I scowled. I wasn’tsurly. I was in a serious personal crisis and had every right to be in a bad mood. Besides. ThatSesame StreetMuppet was never surly, either. He was positively gleeful about counting. That’s why he was my first crush. “It’s not nice to call me surly.”
He winked. “You’re right. I’m sorry. My bad. You don’t mind if I call you Count, though, do you? I should have asked your preferred name. Do you go by Samaya, or do you like Sam? I don’t like Danny or Dan ... so I know what it’s like to have a name that’s easy to shorten. I kinda wish my mom gave me a name that is what it is, you know? Like I have this teammate ... Graham. You can’t call him anything but Graham, no matter how hard you try.Grajust sounds weird, and I called him Ham once and got cross-checked at our next practice.”
I snorted a laugh. He was so much more talkative than he was yesterday, like he was trying to cheer me up. Which was nice.
“You have brothers or sisters?” he asked.
“A sister. Tahira.”
“That’d be hard to shorten, too. I’m sure you don’t call her Tah. I guess Hira would work. But you ... you could be Sam, Maya, Sammy, even May. But ... I’m guessing you like Samaya, right? You seem a purist.”
“Yeah. Some people call me Sam, but I prefer Samaya.” LostAxis called me Sam ... but then again, my character name inDragon Arenawas GreenEggsAndSam, so it made sense. It was Devin who gave me the idea for that username back when we first started playing. He had also called me Sam a few times, but when I told him I didn’t really like it, he stopped. He’d once been a good boyfriend. Until he wasn’t.
And now he was gone from my life. I told him we couldn’t even be friends. Nausea built in my stomach. I hoped I didn’t start crying again. It wasn’t that I wanted Devin back, because I didn’t. Devin had been a huge part of my life for so long, and it was hitting me for the first time that this was the end of an era for me.
“Aren’t we supposed to be baking?” I asked. Maybe that would take my mind off ... everything.
He stood and opened a drawer in the kitchen cabinet near the door. “Yup. I get to rock your world with lemon squares today.” He handed me an apron from the drawer, then took one for himself. “Did I tell you yesterday where I got this recipe?”
“No.”
“Remember I used to work in my aunt’s bakery?” he asked, slipping the apron over his head. “That’s where I learned to bake. This little white lady, a customer, used to come in a lot—her name was Rose. She liked my aunt’s pandesal—those are these little Filipino sweet buns.”
Daniel tied the apron strings behind his back. “Rose asked me one day if we had any lemon squares. I said no, but the next time she came in, she asked again. Finally, after I said no three times, she asked me if I even knew how to make lemon squares. I also said no, and the nextday she brought in a recipe to give to my aunt. She said this was the best lemon squares recipe in the world. She used to make them to have with her tea but didn’t have the strength to bake anymore. My aunt handed me the recipe and told me to make them for Rose because she was our best non-Filipino customer. If Rose wanted lemon squares, then we’d have lemon squares. And oh my god, they reallyarethe best lemon squares in the world. They became a top seller. Do you like lemon squares?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had them.”
“You’ll love them. I promise, Rose’s lemon squares will make it all better.” He smiled at me. He really had no business looking so good in a plain white apron.
I frowned as I stood to put on my apron. “Make what better?”
“Whatever got caught in your eye earlier.” He paused. “But even if there is nothing wrong, lemon squares won’t hurt. Unless you’re allergic to lemons. Or dairy, because yikes, there is a lot of butter in them. Like so. Much. Butter. How many pounds of butter did we count yesterday? There was about two dozen, right? Hey, do you think it’s true that people use butter as tanning oil? Can you imagine the smell?” He shuddered. “Butter-roasted human.”
