Page 52 of The Beta Test

Unknown number: It’s Jake…

Me: Jake who?

Unknown number: Jake the studmuffin Taylor

Me: Huh. Sounds vaguely familiar…

Unknown number: I’ll be there soon.

Instead of answering, I snap a picture of the in-progress cookie batter and send it to Jake with a thumbs up emoji.

Today has been a total and utter disaster. The only minor victory among the defeats is being a captain of the swim team, even if not the captain. Visions of Analiese standing up at the graduation podium giving a valedictorian speech have been floating through my mind all afternoon like some sort of waking nightmare. A huge part of me doesn't want to do Operation Cookies at all, but backing out isn't an option. I need to know what’s going on with Braden. Even if it’s another blow to all my plans or we discover something terrible… does it matter? Not even the heavenly scent of baking sugar can wipe away the damage of the day.

My phone buzzes once again, this time from my mom.

Mom: I just left the hospital and I’m on my way to pick up your dad. Please remember to make cookies for dessert tonight! Love you.

I text my mom the same picture I sent Jake. It’s a double batch—killing two birds with one stone.

Tonight is finally the night. My dad is coming home from Australia. Supposedly. At this point, I’ll believe it when I see him walk through the front door with my own eyes.

The thought of seeing him is exciting, but I also can’t help but feel nervous about how things will be between him and Mom. Will there be tension or will things feel normal? It’s unrealistic to think things would be normal, as he’s basically been MIA for months and then there was the picture of him on Instagram looking a little extra cozy with that actress. It never seemed possible that my parents could drift apart, but Braden and I used to feel solid too. Maybe I’m not the best relationship judge.

I form perfectly-sized balls of dough and space them out evenly on baking sheets. Once a couple trays are filled, I slide them into the oven and set a timer. The familiar cadence of the motions comforts me as I try to gather my thoughts and fortify my emotions before this operation begins. A mental image of my vision board upstairs fills my mind. Even though valedictorian may be out of my reach, I can still be accepted to MIT. Mrs. Nelson was right about that. Will I still want to go after we go to the Patels?

Later in the afternoon, after all the cookies are baked and on cooling racks, Jake knocks on the front door. Before I can finish washing the cookie sheet and dry off my hands, Hunter runs to the door and throws it open. I can hear his excited voice welcoming Jake inside and I smile. Jake always feels like a ray of sunshine around here.

“Hey, Tiana. You ready for this?”

I glance at Jake and see that his hair is still a little wet from his post-practice shower, but he otherwise looks as adorable as he usually does—slightly disheveled in an endearing sort of way. His blue eyes seem extra bright from the matching blue in his shirt.

“Um, yeah. Let me get some of these cookies on a plate first.”

I reach up to a cabinet to grab a paper plate and accidentally knock the entire stack all over the counter.

“Ugh!” I yell and jump back slightly to keep them from falling on me. A few of the cookies on the cooling racks get a little squished and the warm chocolate chips smear on some of the plates.

“It’s fine,” Jake murmurs. He steps in closer and starts picking up the plates, leaving one clean one out for our little mission. With a grin, he pops one of the squished cookies into his mouth. “Just to make sure they taste ok,” he explains.

I smile at his goofy, chocolate-toothed grin and whack him gently on the arm. “Of course my cookies taste fine. But don’t eat them all.”

“Wait—can we eat the cookies now, Avery?” Hunter calls from the living room.

“No!” I yell back.

“Dang it,” I hear him mutter.

Shaking my head in amusement, I reach down to the lowest sliding drawer and pull out the plastic wrap. After stacking a decent amount of the cooled treats on the plate, the plastic wrap comes next—but my hands tremble slightly and the edge won't tear clean against the serrated box.

Jake’s warm hand covers mine, then he gently pulls the box from my grasp. He quickly and efficiently pulls a sheet off the roll and covers the cookies, smoothing the edges down underneath the plate. His eyes meet mine. Steady.

“It’s going to be fine, no matter what happens. I promise.”

A deep breath, then I let Jake’s words settle over me. Will it be fine?

My eyes drift shut, picturing the worst-case scenario: Braden's been lying to me. The idea stabs through me, but the pain isn't as sharp as it should be. Months of feeling like an afterthought have already done their work. Somewhere along the way, without even making the conscious choice, I started detaching from him emotionally.

My eyes snap open and I nod once. “Let’s go.”