scratching the tip across the paper for a moment before she sets it down, and folds her hands over what she wrote.
I thought, when I came up here, that I’d get cookies. Not the world’s tiniest piece of a cookie. Feeling cheated, I glance up and meet Charlotte’s eyes. “You’re mean.”
She smiles huge and from out of nowhere produces another coin-sized cookie. “Here.”
I stuff it in my mouth. Dropping my gaze mistrustfully to her now-empty hands, I dart looks around the kitchen, wondering where the rest of them are. When I don’t find any, I look back to her. To her face. I meet her very direct gaze.
She grins. “Good job.” She sets another cookie on my plate.
“Where are you getting these?” I ask.
When she doesn’t answer, I glance up at her again, staring into her eyes with confusion.
She only smiles. “You’re doing great, Deek.” She gives me another cookie.
Mulishly, I take the single bite it requires to chew it and toss back milk. And defiantly, I meet her eyes. “What are you doing?”
Her bright expression does not dim under my glower. She deposits another treat on my plate. “I’m taking a psychology class.”
I frown, my gaze jumping from her hands to her face. “Aren’t you in, like, what? Seventh grade?”
She hands me another cookie. “Technically, but I’m taking advanced classes. Right now, I’m writing a paper on operant conditioning. You’re my guinea pig.”
I stare at her. “Your what?”
She smiles and hands me another cookie. “Very good, Deek.”
I stuff the cookie in my mouth and back off of the stool.
“Wait!” she cries, and when she stands, I see she was huddled over a Tupperware container of oven-fresh cookie bites.
I look her dead in the eye.
Her eyes widen, and she stops. “Oh, that’s good. Hang on.” She snatches two cookies out of the container and thrusts them out at me.
Ginny rounds the corner into the kitchen. “Did it work?”
My gaze darts from her to Charlotte. “Did what work?”
Charlotte’s eyes sparkle as she hands me another cookie. “His reactions are textbook.” To me, she explains, “Your conditioning. You’re nailing it.”
“Aww, way to go, Deek,” Ginny congratulates. She pulls a glass down from the cupboard and fills it with milk.
Grinding the cookie with my molars, it’s so small it’s easy to ask around it, “What, exactly, are you conditioning me to do?” Nerves are making my hair sprout. My arms itch.
Charlotte passes me another cookie, never breaking our gaze. “Make eye contact.”
With my behavior pointed out, I immediately drop my gaze. “Why?”
“Because it isn’t bad for you to look at us. You’ve been doing it more and more on your own, and Finn said it’s a sign that you’ve grown comfortable. I know that extended eye contact is something you can’t do, but I wanted to see if applying a reward for desired behavior—eye contact—would help you acclimate faster.” When I slide a look up at her, she presses a cookie into my hand. “I started yesterday with no rewards, and took note of how often you made eye contact and for how long. The difference between that and now will boggle your mind.”
“You boggle my mind,” I mutter. “Give me the container.”
When she doesn’t say anything or even move, I glance up.
She’s grinning so big, I roll my eyes. She hands over the Tupperware dish full of mini cookies, and I snatch it up, reclaiming my spot near the milk. “I’m telling your mother.”
“Hey, can I have some?” Ginny asks me.
I pass her the container, and she picks out a few.
“Speaking of my mom,” Charlotte says, in a measured tone I don’t trust. “I noted that of all of us, you look at her the most.” She darts a sly look at me, one I see because I’m staring at her cheek. “And you make direct eye contact with her for the longest.”
I reach into the Tupperware, catch a handful of cookies, and cram them into my mouth.
“Deek?” she asks.
I look into her eyes.
Charlotte claps. “Yay!”
Ginny pats me on the back. “So proud of you!”
“You like my mom,” Charlotte announces. “As in, you like her, like her.”
Mercifully, Susan and Maggie are grocery shopping, so there’s thankfully no one but us who hears her point this out.
Although… Finn forbade me from telling Susan what she is to me.
But he never said I couldn’t tell Charlotte. Or Ginny.
My eyes do not lower from Charlotte’s when I confess, “She’s my mate.”
CHAPTER 38
SUSAN
FRIDAY
“Just seated a couple at table six, Sue,” Sally, the pub’s hostess of the