I laugh and nod. She’s got me there. “Only for you, Ives. Only ever for you.”
“Can we try to shift now?” She dances excitedly in her seat.
“Yeah, Ivy,” I say with a chuckle. “Shift away.”
I’ve got reading to finish and lesson plans to review, but right now, there’s no place I’d rather be.
6
“You’re back early!” Bailey chirps from our kitchen table as I walk into our apartment on Tuesday evening.
“I didn’t feel like starting another practice test,” I say as I kick off my shoes and head toward my bedroom. “Plus, I knew you were off tonight, and I haven’t seen you in almost a week.”
“You just saw me this morning before you left for class.” Bailey laughs.
I walk into my bedroom, drop my bag next to my desk, and promptly change into some yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Heading back into the kitchen, I fill a small mason jar with white wine from the box in the fridge and grab some cookies from the dish on the counter.
“Seeing you in passing doesn’t count,” I say through a mouthful of chocolate chips and caramel. “We need some girl time.”
“I am always down for girl time. Are you ready for the Indy 500?”
“Not yet. Kelley wouldn’t let me leave the parking lot, but I can shift all the gears without stalling.” I hold my glass of wine up in the air and mime shifting gears with my other hand, doing a little shimmy and just narrowly avoiding a spill.
“Nice. Zombie Apocalypse, do your worst.” She laughs with me, and then gestures toward the plate full of cookies. “What do you think?”
“They’re good,” I say enthusiastically.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nod and stuff more cookie into my mouth. “Like, Praise the Sugar Goddess good. I think these are my favorite so far.”
“Really? That’s great. This is a new recipe. I took the chocolate chip cookies I made last weekend but kind of combined it with those caramel cheesecake bars that the guys liked.”
I widen my eyes, thoroughly impressed, and take another bite. “They’re really good, Bailey. I think Kelley would love these, too. You think this is the winner?”
“I don’t know yet.” Bailey shrugs. “I’ve got a few more recipes I want to try.”
“Well, as always, I volunteer as tribute to taste test any and all of your concoctions,” I say with a smile, and she grins back at me. “I also brought you a new legal pad for your recipes. I noticed your old one was almost out.”
“Oooh, thanks.” Bailey bats her eyelashes at me. “You’re too good to me.”
I met Bailey Barnes sophomore year. We both transferred to Butler University, and she was my random roommate placement in the dorms. I’ve heard horror stories about nightmare roommates, but Bailey and I hit it off right away. We got along so well that we decided to room together again junior year, and then this year, we got this apartment.
Appearance-wise, we’re opposites. Where I’m a plain light blonde, Bailey’s hair is a dark brown, probably only a shade away from full-fledged black, and she currently has the ends dyed a bright turquoise. Bailey’s skin is permanently sun-kissed, and I’m pale and freckled. My eyes are a common shade of blue, and Bailey’s are golden amber framed by the longest, thickest, blackest eyelashes. I love her eyes. They honestly sparkle.
Kelley likes to joke that Bailey and I are like symbolic images of good and evil in
human form. Last year for Halloween, she and I dressed up as the angel and devil on Jesse’s shoulders. I have a picture framed on my dresser.
“How’s work been?” I ask as I fill her a glass of wine and top mine off. The one I fill for her is a pint glass from Keggers. Pretty sure she stole it.
“Good. Since Jada promoted me to a lead bartender, I’ve been getting more hours, but I’ve had to get creative with balancing homework and baking.” Bailey and I take our wine into the living room and sit on the couch.
“I’m not complaining about waking up to find you’ve baked three dozen cookies miraculously overnight, but don’t overwork yourself. And let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
Bailey has been working as a bartender at Bar 31, one of the popular campus bars, since last year. At the beginning of this semester, one of the bakeries in the city announced a cookie baking contest open to all the students on campus. The winner gets a $2,000 prize and their cookie will be included on the shop’s menu for a month. I’ve never seen Bailey so excited. Since then, she’s been trying new recipes whenever possible.
“When are the submissions due?” I ask, even though I already know because the date is circled in purple highlighter on the calendar hanging on our fridge.