“It’s the last one,” I tell him. I pull it out of the box. “If you don’t take it, I’m going to eat it.”
“Why should I be surprised?” he says, still staring out the window. “I’m used to you taking whatever you want for yourself with no regard for other people.”
I roll my eyes and pop the cookie into my mouth. “Can’t say I didn’t give you a chance,” I mumble around a mouthful of cookie.
He turns to look at me for the first time in over an hour. “Did you really just eat the last one?”
“Do you want it back?” I open my mouth.
He looks at me with disgust. “You owe me a new box. Those were my cookies and you ate all of them.”
“Everyone in this car ate at least one,” I remind him. “Including you. And you weren’t even going to eat them anyway. They were in your freezer for a year.”
“That’s not the point. They were my cookies.” He scoffs. “You’re so entitled, it’s not even funny.”
I frown. No one has ever called me entitled before. I’m not sure we’re talking about the cookies anymore. I look down at the empty box, then back at him.
“You’re an irresponsible cookie owner. You probably walk around with cookies in your pocket and don’t even notice when someone else reaches right in and grabs them. Imagine if someone pickpocketed you at the game and stole all your cookies.”
“I would have been more protective of my cookies at the game,” he says. “I guess I didn’t realize that you of all people would reach into my pocket and steal them.”
“Today isn’t a good day for cookies anyway,” I tell him. “Someone else’s cookies will be much better.”
He frowns. Maybe I’m doing too much with this cookie analogy.
“It’s not for you to decide whose cookies are better,” he says. “Everyone would have been perfectly happy with the cookies in my pocket.”
Tina snorts out a laugh in the front seat. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever heard,” she says. “But can we please do without pocket cookies? I’d rather not eat a cookie that’s covered in lint.”
“See?” I tell him. “Tina doesn’t want your pocket cookies.”
I can’t help but wonder if he might be right, though. Maybe my motivation for doing this has turned selfish. But then I think about how passionately Tina talked about her idea, and how excited she was to start planning it all. I feel torn.
“If I hear one more mention of cookies, I’m going to ban both of you from my car,” Ryan says.
I throw the empty box at Oliver. It lands on his lap. He looks down at it, then glares at me. I face forward, crossing my arms and counting down the minutes until I can be out of this car and away from him.
* * *
My legs are asleep when I finally open the car door and step out into the parking garage near Madison Square Garden. I stumble and almost faceplant on the pavement. I look around, hoping no one noticed. Oliver’s eyes are on me, but he doesn’t look amused. Instead, he turns around, shaking his head like I’m the biggest idiot he’s ever seen. Somehow his reaction is worse than laughing would have been.
I step up next to Tina as she and Ryan make their way out of the garage. I’m startled when I feel a hand on my elbow, pulling me back and away from them. I look down at my arm first, then up at Oliver.
“Don’t touch me.” I try to shake his hand off my arm, but he holds me back. “I’ve spent the last few hours dying to get out of that car and away from you. Let go of me.”
I try to move forward to catch up with Tina, but Oliver stays put, keeping me with him. I groan as Tina and Ryan get farther away from us, in their own little world, not noticing that Oliver and I aren’t right beside them anymore. I turn to glare at him. I’m caught off guard by how serious he looks.
“Where did you hide the ring?” he asks when we’re out of earshot.
“I told you that you’ll never find it.” I try once more to walk away from him, but his grip on my arm is firm. I end up taking a big step away only to almost fall backward when he doesn’t let me move.
“Is it in the car?” he asks, pointing with his nose at Ryan’s car.
“I’m not telling you where it is.”
“Your car?”
I roll my eyes.
