Page 7 of Never Not Friends

“I’ll work on the dry ingredients in a separate bowl,” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment. “And then we can mix them and put the sugar buns in the oven.”

There’s a small snicker. “Okay, Sugar Buns.”

My lips lower into a frown. “Did you just call me Sugar Buns?”

“I did,” he says confidently.

“My name is Emma. Emma Lawson.”

“I know who you are. We had science together last year.”

Vinny Brooks knows who I am? I’m trying not to freak out. But I’m totally freaking out.

“I didn’t think you even noticed me. I sat all the way across the room.”

“You’re hard not to notice.”

I frown again, tugging at my hair. “I know. My red hair is so bright. It’s embarrassing.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head. “I love your red hair.”

My eyes widen. What in the best day of my life is even happening right now?

Now he’s shaking his head again, but this time out of embarrassment. “I mean, it’s cool that it’s different. That’s all. I was just trying to say that I know who you are.”

“Then why did you call me Sugar Buns?”

“I don’t know.” His shoulders lift. “I kinda like how you keep calling the cinnamon rolls that.”

“Because that’s the title of the recipe.”

“Yeah, but everybody calls them cinnamon rolls.” A teasing smile covers his lips. “Well...everybody except you.”

Defensiveness creeps into my voice. “I was just reading what it says on the recipe.”

He smiles. “I think it’s cute.”

Cute?

That one word gives me more confidence than I’ve ever had in my entire life, and suddenly, I say something that sounds more like it came from Juliet than me. “If you’re calling me Sugar Buns, then I’m calling you Sweet Buns.”

“Sweet Buns?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that.” The flirtation in his brown eyes cannot be missed, even for an inexperienced girl like myself.

A blush covers my cheeks as I fight back my smile. I can’t just stand here blushing like this. It’s best to move on, so I turn to the ingredients and measure out the flour. At least, I try to measure out the flour, but my eyes peek up at Vinny. He’s already staring at me. Immediately, we both drop our gazes.

This happens two more times in the next thirty seconds.

“You know,” I say, pretending to have some skills at flirting, “when everybody hears us call each other Sugar Buns and Sweet Buns, they’re going to think we’re together.”

“It wouldn’t bother me.” He shrugs, meeting my gaze once again.

My mouth opens, but I’m speechless. There’s too much activity happening in my heart to come up with a reply.

Vinny clears his throat, turning back to the butter, slowly unwrapping it as if he didn’t just completely send my teenage heart into a cardiac arrest fit for a seventy-year-old.

I glance around the room, confirming that every oven in Mrs. Hicksenbaugh’s classroom is exactly the same.

There are holes in his story.