Chapter Eleven

Cookies and Milk

“I’m just saying that without the cream it would still be an Oreo.”

“No, then it would just be a cookie. Anyone can make a cookie. The cream makes it an actual Oreo.”

“But you can eat the cookie part by itself and it’d still be an Oreo. The cream alone is nothing,” Liam argues.

“No, the cream is important.” I lean back in the passenger’s seat, stretching out my legs. “Double-stuffed Oreos. Triple-stuffed. You don’t see double-cookied.”

“It’s already double-cookied,” Liam says. “From the beginning they knew consumers would like it best.”

“You have two ears and one mouth. Does that make your mouth less important?”

“It means you should listen before you speak.”

“Don’t get all philosophical on me,” I say, crossing on ankle over the other and resting my folded hands on my stomach. I sigh dreamily. “I could eat that cream filling forever.”

            “Uh huh,” Liam says, obviously disbelieving.

            “I could!”

            He drives silently, not replying to my emphatic statement.

            I cross my arms and look out the window.

            Liam and I both enjoyed the movie, despite it being aimed at children. Unfortunately we never saw anyone from school at the theater, which was the whole point of going out together. I can always create fake dates we’ve supposedly been on, but nothing beats someone from school actually witnessing the popular jock and nerd at a movie together. We’ll just have to go somewhere more public next time.

            “What are you doing?” I ask, looking around. We’re in the parking lot of a supermarket.

            Liam doesn’t answer. He slides out of his seat, walking to the front of the car and waiting. When I don’t appear, he shakes his head and strides to my door, opening it.

            “Coming?” he says, when I make no move to exit his vehicle.

            I purse my lips, pretending to think it over. “Fine.”

            I keep pace with Liam into the building and down the aisles, the bright florescent lights casting an unnatural glow across his cheekbones. We pass chips, crackers, granola bars, and finally settle in front of the cookies. Liam grabs a large package of Oreos.

            “No,” I say with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

He grins, tucking the cookies under his arm and winding his way to the back wall filled with fridges, where he snags a gallon of milk. “Where’re the paper cups?”

We wander around looking for them, finally stumbling across paper plates and bowls, but no cups. Liam glances at me, shrugs, and grabs a package of bowls. He pays for our items and soon we’re back in the car, the gallon of milk balanced on my lap.

Outside my window, busy streets and shops change to country homes and gravel driveways. Liam turns onto a dirt road barely discernible in the dark and our small car bumps about on the unpaved path. We stop in front of a large field, acres of wild, yellowed grass stretching to meet the night sky.

“Go find a clear spot,” Liam suggests, rummaging in his back seat for something.

I comply, grabbing our supplies and scurrying around the grass until I find a small bare spot towards the middle. Liam soon catches up, laying two sweatshirts on the ground like a blanket, and giving me one and keeping one for himself.  

“It’s getting cold,” he says, shrugging on the clothing.

I slip mine on. It’s wonderfully big and has a musky, male scent.

We both sit crossed-legged on our makeshift blankets, close but not touching. Liam opens the milk and I use a fingernail to slice through the packaging around the paper bowls. He fills two bowls with milk as I fumble with the Oreo container, finally managing to get it open. I set it between us and take my proffered bowl full of milk.

The air is crisp and still, only the occasional cricket’s chirp shattering the tranquility. Without city lights the stars seem close enough to touch.

I turn back to Liam. He’s dropped an Oreo into his bowl and is having difficulty fishing it out. Reaching for the cookies, I pry an Oreo in two, scraping the filling off with my teeth as I watch him fumble. He finally manages to get it and pops the soggy morsel into his mouth with a self-satisfied grin.

“Good job,” I say, only slightly patronizing.

“Fanks.” Liam gives me a chewed-up cookie smile.

I stick out my tongue and toss the plastic from the cups at him. It hits him in the face and lands in his bowl of milk. He quickly grabs the soggy plastic and sets it on the ground, out of my reach.

“So,” I say conversationally, reaching for another cookie. I dunk it in milk and nibble on the sodden edges. “Why’d you kiss Miss King?”

Liam’s eyes flickering to mine is the only gesture that he’s heard me. He pours more milk into his bowl, dips in a cookie, and pops the entire thing in his mouth. He chews slowly.

“I kissed Kendall…because I could.”

Again, I’m reminded of his nerve. He made out with a teacher in her empty classroom and calls her by her first name.

A new thought strikes me. What if they were in a relationship? What if they were in love? What if they planned to run away together?

I tear my eyes from the endless grassy field and am met with liquefied silver. Liam’s gaze is calculating.

“Go on,” I prod, leaning back on my hands.

Liam nods once. “At school, I can basically do whatever I want and people will go along with it. Follow blindly, probably. I never take advantage of that. But here was Kendall and she kept doing things and saying things and I knew she was interested. So one day I just decided to take her up on it. To see if I could.”

I can fill in the punch line. “But then I walked in.”

Liam smiles wryly. “Then you walked in. Probably to prove that I don’t have as much power as I think I do.”

“Or to put a stop to an illegal relationship.”

Liam shrugs a shoulder. “That too.”

“But so that was the first time?” I ask.

“First and last.”

I’m comforted that Liam isn’t involved in some sordid affair. That would’ve gotten in the way of our fake relationship big time.

I grab another Oreo and spin it between my fingers. “Think you can catch this in your mouth?”

Liam grins. “Try me.”

I throw the cookie and Liam effortlessly catches it in his mouth.

“That was an easy shot,” I say. Liam laughs. “Let’s try it in milk.”

            ______________________________

 “I’ll just fill my piggybank with quarters and dreams... That’s good! Write that down.”

Liam raises his eyebrows but obediently scribbles down the words.

“Hey, if you have better lyrics let’s hear ‘em, mister. Otherwise keep writing mine down.”

“I wasn’t arguing.” Liam says calmly.

“Uh-huh,” I say, disbelieving. “Tell that to your eyebrows.”

“My eyebrows? What?”

I ignore him. “We just need cute words set to a catchy melody.”

We’re in the back of the classroom, our desks shoved close together. Since we both have study hall at the same time, I snuck into Liam’s. The teacher hasn’t yet noticed.

A few of the populars are in here, and I got some strange looks when I first sat with Liam. Especially from two of Melissa’s cronies, who are busy gossiping and painting their nails in the front row. Melissa will definitely be hearing about this. Which is more than I can say for Liam and my slightly-failed attempt at a public date Saturday night. It was fun, though, and he dropped me off well before curfew and walked me to my door.

“Thank you for the fake date. And the milk,” I added, motioning to the gallon jug dangling from my fingers. “Are you sure you don’t want it?”

Liam shrugged. “Nah, I have the cookies.”

What’s left of them, anyway. Liam and I rather pigged out.

“We’ll go somewhere more public next time. Maybe we can double with Peter and Candy.” I’d told Liam about Peter. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t?

“Who’s Candy?” Liam asked.

“This girl I’m going to set Peter up with. He could use a girlfriend. He spends too much time in front of the computer.”

Liam snorted. “Sounds good. Well I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

I lifted a hand in a wave and Liam returned the gesture. “Bye.”

Mom bombarded me before I’d even shut the front door.

“How was it? Was the movie good? Why are you holding a gallon of milk?”

She followed me to the kitchen, where I left the milk in the fridge.

“The movie was good. We went to the store and got cookies and milk afterward, which was fun.” I neglected mentioning the field. That’s the sort of thing parents might get the wrong idea about.

“Did he try to kiss you?” Mom pressed.

I hid my alarm. “No, Mom. It was a first date. He didn’t try to kiss me.”

Mom looked disappointed. “Well, maybe next time.”

“Yeah, maybe next time.”

Now, in the classroom, I eye Liam’s profile and wonder how long it will be until we need to kiss. It’s an obvious next step, but I’m unsure how to approach it. Would planned or spontaneous be better?

“Thinking of more song lyrics?” Liam says to me.

“No, kissing,” I reply honestly.

Liam, to his credit, doesn’t appear shocked. “What about it?”

“I’m thinking about when we need to do it.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Sometime after our second or third date. Anytime before and you might seem cheap.”

“Done.” I lean back in my seat, satisfied the issue is solved.

“How about we include something about a GPS and getting lost?” Liam suggests, looking at our song lyrics.

I pat him on the back. “Stick to planning kisses, hun.”