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Jordy’s face scrunches up as if he’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“What about Caleb caught your eye? I have to know. I’ve waited seventeen years for you to talk to me about boys. I promise I won’t be annoying, so you can tell me everything.”
Pass.
“You can’t tell anyone. Especially not Mrs. Park,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Your secret is safe with me.” She winks at me, but I’m not convinced. “So? How did it start?”
With the way Mom’s eyes are lit up, I can’t bring myself to tell her that Caleb and I aren’t actually dating. Besides, if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I want to. The less she knows, the better. Who knows what she’ll repeat.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It just sort of happened.”
“Come on. I want to know.”
I glare at her. “Mom, stop.”
She pouts. “Nothing? You won’t even tell me who asked the other out?”
I move to the island and start measuring out the flour. “Fine. I’ll answer one question. Make it a good one.”
Mom leans on the island eagerly. “Have you kissed him?”
“Mom!”
“What?” She laughs. “That’s one question.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Jordy waits as eagerly as Mom does for my answer.
“Pick another one,” I say, dumping a cup of flour into the yellow mixing bowl.
It’s not exactly a shock that I haven’t had my first kiss. As someone with well defined personal space, I can’t imagine being that close to someone. Still, my mind wanders to the way he looked playing the guitar earlier. The way his mouth twisted slightly to the side when he hummed.
Why am I even thinking about that right now?
“Did you hear me?” Mom asks.
I jerk my head toward her as my face grows hot. “Uh, what?”
“I said, where did you go on your first date?”
“Oh. We went to a little cafe, but I don’t remember the name.”
“Did you have fun?”
I wave my finger at her. “One question, remember.”
Mom sighs. “Fine.” She looks over at Jordy. “We better get your cookies started.”
I know she’s not done talking about this. There’ll be more questions at some point, but I’ll avoid them for as long as possible.
Jordy opens his notebook. He carefully writes down every measurement and ingredient Mom says with his eyebrows dipped together. When we get to the part where we need to cream the butter, we let Jordy try it. He takes the hand mixer and, while on his tippy toes, starts to mix it. The rattling of the mixer fills the whole room, making it impossible to hear what anyone says without yelling.
Mom taps Jordy’s shoulder after a minute. “That’s good.”
He lifts the mixer, but he doesn't shut it off first. Creamed sugar flies all over the counter and covers his face in sugary patches. “Ahhh!”
Mom is quick to take it and turns it off.
