“Great. I’m great,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound robotic as my heart thumped painfully in my chest.
I desperately thrust my white paper bag out in front of me. “Cookies—from a grocery store bakery. Would you like some?” I didn’t realize until the words were out of my mouth that I’d been clutching the wax bag so hard I’d crumpled the top, and the words came out way more jumbled than I meant for them to.
But Shelby still hadn’t refused me as she slipped her purse strap over her shoulder, so I rushed to add, “They’re fresh—still warm!”
“That’s very sweet of you, but no thank you.” Shelby smiled and rested a hand on her massive purse.
“W-would Mia like one?” I could hardly hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“She’s actually at my parents’ place for the next few nights but thank you for thinking of her.” Shelby glanced from the bag to my face. “You said you bought them from a bakery?”
“Yes. They’re delicious.” I lowered the bag—this time taking pains so I didn’t clutch it and accidentally rip it apart.
“I hope that doesn’t mean that you’re giving up baking?” Shelby asked.
Even my general fear of coming off as awkward wasn’t enough to stop my grimace. “I don’t know that I ever succeeded enough to call what I didbaking. But yes.”
Shelby’s eyes were warm with sympathy. “Really? That’s sad. I thought it was so sweet that you were trying to reproduce family recipes—it’s so heartwarming.”
“Oh,” I said, not quite sure how to respond to the compliment.
“You know, to tell you the truth, I’m really bad at baking.” Shelby laughed. “I gave up on ever learning, so I thought it was really neat that you kept trying, every week.”
“Yeah, baking is rough. And I’ve learned family recipes usually don’t have all the directions on them,” I said, trying not to let too much bitterness leak through. (On more than one occasion I’d followed a recipe to the letter, only to find out later from my mom or grandmother that there were a few very important directions that weren’t on the recipe card.)
Shelby laughed. “I’ve learned that too.”
A door opened and my vampire senses kicked in, so when I peered back over my shoulder I wasn’t too surprised to see Connor—he was the only vampire within a block radius in this part of town.
Connor raised his eyebrows at me but I wasn’t trying to bribe him with baked goods, so I whipped back around to face Shelby.
“Either way, I really hope you don’t give up baking for good,” Shelby continued. “I always enjoy our chats about food.”
“Oh,” I said, sounding as dazed as I felt. “Thanks, Shelby.”
Shelby smiled. “Of course. Have a good morning!”
“You too,” I called as Shelby slipped past me and started down the staircase.
I stood rooted where I was even as Shelby’s footsteps grew quieter and disappeared.
“Well.” Connor strolled closer. “It seems you have been rejected again—”
I grabbed Connor by the wrist. “Did you hear that? She complimented me!”
Connor jumped, surprised by my enthusiasm. “Er…yes?”
“We had an actual conversation! And since she remembered that I’m trying to bake—even that I’m bad at it—that means she bothered to remember something aboutme. So, she’s not uninterested in being friends, right?”
“I suppose?” Connor said.
“Yes!” I let go of Connor and pumped a free hand in the air. “I’m making progress.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t know that any of our neighbors dislike you—they just lead a busy existence. Humans are forever running around involving themselves in unnecessary work,” Connor said, sounding jaded and old.
“Ah-ah! No!” I spun around to face him and wildly shook my head. “You’re not going to insult our neighbors-who-aren’t-yet-friends-but-one-day-will-be!”
“Fine, I see how it is.” Connor leaned into my personal space, a smile curving across his lips and faintly lighting up his red eyes. “Congratulations on successfully speaking to another neighbor.”
