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Justin doesn’t even look at the paper. “We’d like a box of Samosas,” he says. “The coconut ones.”
“I believe you mean Samoas,” the girl corrects. “I am going to have to close and lock the door while I check inventory. Are you sure you only want one box? A lot of people say they only want one, and then they’re back the next day for more.”
“Mia, you know I live down the street. Just get us the box.”
Mia is clearly considering a harder sell, then thinks better of it. “One moment,” she says, then shuts the door in our faces.
“Her parents once got so desperate that they asked me to babysit,” Justin tells me. “And I was so desperate for cash that I said yes. She offered me cookies, then left a note for her mother to take the cost of the cookies out of my pay. I set the note on fire and dropped it in the sink. I don’t think she appreciated that.”
I can’t imagine asking Justin to babysit. And I can also imagine him being the most fun babysitter ever, if you didn’t try to bill him.
Mia returns with our box of Samoas. Justin takes the box from her hand and starts to walk away without paying, which makes Mia turn purple in outrage. Then Justin says, “Just kidding,” turns back, and gives her the cash in singles.
“Next time, preorder,” she tells both of us before slamming the door again.
“Not the sweetest girl,” Justin comments as we head back to his house. “But she gives good cookie.”
Instead of going inside, Justin leads me to the backyard. His mom has a small garden with a bench. He takes me there.
“Samoa for your thoughts,” he says, pulling open the box and the plastic.
“My only thought is: I want a Samoa,” I tell him.
“Here,” he says, putting one between his teeth. I lean in and snatch it up.
“Yum,” I say, mouth full.
He pops one into his own mouth. “Yeah, yum,” he agrees, some coconut falling into the air between us. After he swallows, he says, “I imagine we taste the same right now.”
I smile. “I imagine we’re both pretty coconutty. And chocolatey. And caramelly.”
“There’s only one way to know for sure.”
He goes in for the kiss and I let him take it. I tell myself this is what I want. Just like the ocean. Just like a couple.
He pulls away. “Yum.”
“Give me another.”
He presses in for another kiss. I push him away and say, “I meant another cookie.” He laughs. I appreciate the laugh.
Instead of insisting on the kiss, he passes me the box of cookies. I take two.
They’re really good, much better than I remembered them being. Sweet and rough.
“Don’t get too hooked,” Justin warns. “That’s how Mia gets you. Before you know it, you’re preordering by the dozens. And then, even worse, you’re insisting that they be refrigerated.”
“You speak like someone who knows. I’ll bet your fridge is full of Thin Mints.”
“Oh, no. It’s worse than that. I only eat the fat mints now.”
Why are you in such a good mood? I want to ask him. And then I want to ask myself, Why do you have to question this?
“Wanna see my stash?” he asks.
“I’ve already seen your stash.”
“And what do you think?”
