Cookies and Cake
Zakuyoe

Personally, I love cake. Who doesn't smile when they're served a delicious piece of cake, topped with fluffy icing? My insides always melt the minute I sink my teeth into the delicious icing, savoring the actual flavor of the cake seconds later.

It turns out that he doesn't. At the honors inductions last year, I remember him talking about how much he hates cake. No, Stan’s a cookie person through and through. But I don't see why he likes cookies so much. What's so special about hard, crusty cookies with chocolate chips that get all over your hands when you hold them? I tend to prefer the neatness of forks and plates, but maybe that just reflects our personalities.

I really wish he'd smile at me the way he smiles when he eats a cookie. Of course, preferably not with the smudges of chocolate on his lips, but there's something about that smile that makes me feel warm inside, a smile that anyone could fall in love with—even a boy like me.

It was the same smile that charmed Wendy, or whom I like to think of her as The Girlfriend. I guess I have no reason to dislike her, but I still find myself jealous of her for stealing his smile from me. Maybe she's a good girlfriend. Maybe she makes him cookies and kisses him every day, but it doesn't matter to me. I guess he might be happier with her than with anyone else in the world. But that doesn't keep me from disliking her.

I still don’t see why she’s the one who gets his smiles, though. She’s more of a cracker person, and she loves them just as much as he hates them—I love cakes just as much as he hates them. Still, I can argue the unfairness all I want, but the fact remains I’m not her. I’m not the person he wraps his arms around every day. I’m not the one he laughs with at lunch every day. I’m not the one whose ear he murmurs what I’m sure is an “I love you” into every day.

I'm not her, though, so I can sit here and think about cookies and cake all I want. Cookies and crackers may be more similar than cookies and cakes, but the fact remains that crackers are just lame.

My mind goes through this thought process on a daily basis—especially today, which happens to be Valentine's Day. Everyone will be scrambling to get their heart-shaped cakes and cookies, I’m sure—thankfully no one goes around asking for heart-shaped crackers. I could make him a red velvet cake, or one topped with icing and whipped cream, but it wouldn't matter. For him, it's all about the cookies.

I doubt a red velvet cookie would taste the same—with or without the icing.

But perhaps the general gist of it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s a little negotiating, perhaps. And suddenly I’m beginning to think that maybe cookies and cakes do go together better than crackers and cookies do.

Now getting it to him is the hard part. There’s no practical way of me getting a cake past The Girlfriend, especially with those hawk eyes of hers. If she did find out what I was giving Stan she’d probably decapitate me… but that’s not the point.

I decide on leaving the cake at his front door while he’s out on the ever-cliché Valentine’s Day dinner. Yes, I know he hates cakes, yet something tells me he’ll like this one.

As I leave an anonymous note beside the cake I begin to wonder what kind of dinner they’re having. Maybe a special dinner with lobsters and only the finest bread?—or maybe a dinner at Shakey’s Pizza?—ormaybe even a dinner of crackers and cookies, with not a single slice of cake in sight.

But I suppose my clock’s gone horribly wrong—as I look at the cake and note on his doorstep I suddenly see a familiar car driving along the road: he’s come home early. I quickly hide around the corner of his house to remain unseen, and as he gets out of his car Wendy’s annoying voice happens to follow.

“You’re such a nice boyfriend,” I hear her say.

“Sure, I guess,” and as I dare to peek my head around the corner both are looking upon the mysterious cake. I’m turning red at the sight—he may hate cakes, but there’s no way he’ll say no to this one.

“It’s just a stupid cake,” she mutters, opening the door to Stan’s house—she’s even got her own key?

“Yeah, but…” And as his eyes observe the cake again I chuckle to myself as silently as I can. How about that, Stan?—a cookie cake.

“You hate cakes,” Wendy reminds him, and Stan merely shrugs.

“Yeah, but…” and she merely sighs and walks into the house. From where I am I can’t see what he’s doing, and I can’t hear anything he’s saying. I can’t tell his thoughts from where he is but at the same time I wonder if he suspects anything. Though I know he’s a cookie person, he doesn’t quite know I’m a cake person.

And then, he’s looking at me. Ah shit, he’s caught me—but I don’t hide around the corner once more. No, instead I find myself staring at him even more, and it seems to be the same plan he’s got. I wonder if he considers a cookie cake more of a cake or more of a cookie.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says to me, and it’s not long before I find myself blushing. But it’s not the pleasant tone in his voice that makes me blush, nor is it the fact that he’s trying some of the cake in front of me—even if he’s using his hands as most unlike of a cake as possible—nor is it even that he’s given me a Valentine’s Day greeting.

No, it’s because of that chocolate-stained smile he gives me after setting his piece of a cookie cake down onto the platter—that same smile that charmed Wendy, that same smile that makes me happy just by seeing it. And even as The Girlfriend calls him into his house for their festive holiday I find myself frozen in my position behind the house’s corner.

He’s finally given me that cookie-inspired smile, and quite frankly I don’t think I’ll ever need to bite into another cake again. That smile alone is enough to make my insides melt.

Happy Valentine's Day!