Never Getting Back Together

TWENTY

I sit on a stool in the empty classroom, using my LightRoom App to edit the photo of the matcha cookies I just made. I dial up the exposure to make the white plate they're displayed on brighter. Then I adjust the color so it saturates the green of the cookies. Upping the brightness and lowering the clarity gives the picture that light, airy vibe that's so big on Instagram. The cookies in the photograph look even more mouth-watering than in real life. It's too bad no one was interested in coming to learn how to make them.

Everyone seemed so enthusiastic after my last class. I was sure at least a few of them would show up today. But Giselle's face is the only one I've seen all morning. She gave me a pep talk when I almost broke down in tears over the non-existent turnout. She thinks the picture of the green cookies we included on this week's calendar may have scared people away.

"Even Gary would get nervous about eating a green dessert," she said.

My matcha cookies are amazing. They're one of my favorite things I make, but I can see her point. To people unfamiliar with matcha powder, they probably resemble something that came out of the wrong end of the Grinch.

The drone of power tools emanates from behind the drop cloth that divides the classroom from the new addition. Al and his team are hard at work this morning.

I sigh and glance over. I can just make out the shadows moving around behind the tarp. It's impossible to distinguish one silhouette from the next. I'm not sure if Ty's over there this morning, but the possibility he could be so close has my heart spinning like a pinwheel.

I'm dying to talk to him, to find out if he's still as caught up in me as I am in him. There's no denying I want Ty as much as ever, but I can't ignore the resentment simmering under the surface, which the past three years of total silence have only made worse. I'm never sure which emotion will win out when I'm near him. I go from wanting to jump his bones to screaming at him in less time than it takes for a heart to beat. And I can't shake the feeling that I don't even know who Ty is anymore.

Trying to distract myself, I open up Instagram and prep a post for my matcha cookies. I snatch one of them from the plate and copy over the recipe from my Notes App. I add a snazzy caption about how these cookies will make anyone not eating them turn green with envy. Judging by my empty classroom, that may be a bit of an over-exaggeration.

I take a big bite at the same moment the drop cloth pulls backward, and Ty steps into the room. His eyes sweep the deserted cooking stations before settling on mine. My cheeks are already crammed with cookie, but there's still room for them to fill with heat. It's humiliating to have Ty find me here alone, stuffing my face when no one bothered to show up for my class.

"Hi." Ty shoves his hands in the pockets of his sawdust-covered jeans and walks toward me.

I point a finger at my full mouth in explanation for my lack of response. Ty chuckles, nodding as I chew...and chew...and chew. I swear, it's never taken me this long to eat anything in my life. But any moisture in my mouth vanished the second I saw Ty's face.

Grabbing my Stanley cup, I take a glug and finally, wash down the crumbs."Hi." Is all I can think to say. Seriously? Could I be more awkward?

Ty reaches for one of the cookies, taking a bite without the slightest bit of hesitation, which is something I always loved about him. No matter how off-the-wall the recipes I created were, he was always right there with me when it was time to try them.

His eyes light up. "These are good. What are they?"

"Matcha green tea cookies. I'm glad you like them, at least." I glance around the vacant classroom.