Page 2 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Before I can protest this partner pairing, Ms. White stops in front of the girl who caught my attention from the very second I stepped into the room. But the girl doesn’t look up. She’s humming a tune—“Jingle Bells,” I think, though she’s really off tune.

It’s kind of adorable though.

“Marilee, dear.”

She finally glances up and startles. “Oh! Hi! Sorry, were you saying something?”

Ms. White offers a sincere smile—I have a feeling this girl, thisMarilee, is a favorite—and gestures toward me. “We have a new student. Jordan Carmichael. Would you mind showing him the ropes?”

“Of course not.” Turning toward me, a huge grin splashes across Marilee’s face, and if I thought she was beautiful before, well…I didn’t know what beautiful was. Because the sight of her smiling atme, her green eyes sparkling, makes me lose my breath. “Hi. I’m Marilee Moffitt.”

“Hi.” My voice cracks, and dang, I wanna crawl under the table. Wouldn’t be very manly of me though. I cough, lower my voice. “Hey.” I’ve never been the smoothest with the ladies. With how much we’ve moved, there’s never been a point. Mostly, I just keep to myself, do my schoolwork, and don’t do anything to rock the boat. Eventually, I make a few friends.

But this time, if Dad can be believed, we’re staying, and since I’m just a freshman, I’ve still got three and a half years left here. Can’t afford to be branded the pathetic loser who can’t even talk to a pretty girl.

Thankfully, Marilee just keeps smiling at me. “Nice to meet you. You’re going to love it here in Hallmark Beach. I’ve lived here my whole life, and it’s such a warm, friendly place.” She reaches out and pats my upper arm while addressing our teacher. “I’ll take good care of him, Ms. White.”

“I know you will, Marilee. Thank you. And Jordan, welcome here.”

“Th-thank you.” My backpack falls to the ground beside me.

Marilee’s hand is still warm on my shoulder for a moment while our teacher walks away. Then she drops it and picks up a white tube with green frosting protruding from the tip. She holds it out to me. “Wanna give it a whirl?”

I look at it like it’s a snake. “Like, try frosting cookies?”

She laughs, a magical tinkling sound like wind chimes. “Of course, silly. It’s easy.” Marilee points down at the cookies on a parchment-lined tray in front of us. There’s a whole array of sugar cookie shapes—candy canes, snowmen, bells, Christmas trees. And each one is expertly decorated with precision and bursts of creativity that make me smile.

I point to a little snowman family, each one with a different outfit in reds, greens, and whites that must have taken hours to complete. “That doesn’t look all that easy.”

“It is once you practice.” She wiggles the tube at me again. “Come on.”

“Baking isn’t really my thing. How about you show me first? So I can observe and make sure to get it right.”

“There is nogetting it right. There’s just…I don’t know. Feeling your way through it.”

I chuckle at her exuberance. “Not sure I’ve felt my way through anything in my life.”

“Really?” She leans over the cookie with the tube, releasing the green in even, beautiful lines. “Why not?”

“I dunno. My dad’s in—well,wasin—the military.”

“Oh. High expectations, then?”

“Yep. Of me and my sister.”

“You have a sister? I have an older brother. Blake. He’s a junior.”

“Cool. Claire’s already in college. She goes to Berkeley.”

“Wow. You weren’t kidding about high expectations.” She huffs, the beginnings of a frown on her lips for the first time. “I understand that all too well.”

I want to ask her what she means, but then she moves on, chatting about all the wonderful things about Hallmark Beach, all the while pumping out more frosting. I’ve never been one to pay attention to the details on decorated baked goods. A cookie is a cookie, and it tastes the same no matter what the decorations look like. But right now, I’m mesmerized by the way her experienced hands make artwork of something that’s going to be consumed.

Even more mesmerized when she lifts the tube, nods in satisfaction at the little snowman dude wearing a top hat and pair of glasses, and flicks the remaining frosting off the tip with her pinky finger, sticking it into her pink mouth.

I swallow hard against a dry throat.

“Ten minutes until next period, people,” Ms. White calls from the front. “Time to clean up.”

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