“Let’s go with white chocolate,” I decide.
Connor breaks a piece off for each of us, then holds his up and gives me a jauntycheersbefore popping it in his mouth. I do the same.
It only takes a single bite to understand what the fuss is about. “I think I get it now,” I say between bites.
“Worth giving up your Sunday morning for?”
“One hundred percent,” I say. “Though whether it will be worth ever giving up asecondSunday for is another question.”
I decide we need to try more flavors before we can make a full assessment. We agree to keep eating until one, or both, of us feels sick.
Connor hands me a napkin. “OK, what’s next?”
“Pistachio, one hundred percent,” I tell him. “It’s time to try the flavor that got me into this mess.”
He laughs, breaking off a piece of pistachio and handing it tome.
It only takes a single mouthful to convince me. That might be the best cookie I’ve ever had in my life.
“Oh my god,” I say with a whimper. “I am one hundred percent team Ben. White chocolate has been completely forgotten.”
“I always forget how good these are,” he agrees. “They look so intense but they’re really not that sweet.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, snapping a picture of the box between us. Texting it to the group chat, he informsme.
“You guys have a group chat?”
“Of course,” he says, like this is the most obvious thing in the world.
“Wow, thanks for the invite,” Isay.
“No girls allowed.”
“What do you guys talk about?”
“You, mostly.”
I level him a look. “Very funny.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just ducks his head and smiles to himself.
“Did you know all the guys before working here, or just Ben?”
“Just Ben. Naomi poached John from Google. Marty was originally in Engineering but moved across to our team a few years ago.”
“Is Ben your bestie?”
“Kinda,” Connor says.
“Just at work, or out of work too?”
“Is there a difference?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
“Both, then, I guess. We were roommates in college. We’ve always worked together.”
“Sometimes I don’t think Ben likes me that much,” I admit.“It feels like he’s always got his eye on me.” Sometimes I get the niggling sense—usually, honestly, when I’m flirting with Connor—that he doesn’t approve. But I’m never quite sure if his objections, if you can even call them that, are personal or professional.
