"Are you sure you don't want us to do the baking?" Ma asked, watching you bag up all your supplies. It was 11pm, and you were just getting around to making the cupcakes for Miranda's surprise party.

"It's alright, Ma. Baxter said he would help," you assured both of your mothers. The two women frowned, but let you go. There was an unspoken understanding between you three about the arrangement. Baxter was lonely, even with you as his summer girlfriend. He wanted to be included, and his depressingly empty kitchen needed some life.

You crossed the street to the condo Baxter was renting. There was no need to knock anymore, you had the combination memorized. You sat your grocery bags on the counter.

Baxter was leaning against the counter, some baking utensils already laid out. "You made it." The words were casual, polite. But you saw the way his amber eyes lit up.

"Have you ever done this before?" you asked, crossing the kitchen to wrap him in your arms. Baxter accepted the embrace.

"Not once."

You giggled, kissing the mole on his neck. This was going to be a delightful disaster.