Shirayuki's right forearm was burning. She stirred the thick cookie dough in the bowl like it had insulted her. But she was determined to a fault. The recipe said stir until smooth, and she wasn't going to be defeated by semi-sweet chocolate chips, thank you very much. Shirayuki exhaled in exasperation.

"Maybe I should've bought the instant mix," she said, slowing down her circles and relaxing her grip on the wooden spoon. Yuzuri chuckled, tearing off a sheet of parchment paper and lining a flat metal tray. "You said scratch," Yuzuri teased, winking at her red-haired friend. "Maybe Obi will gift you a KitchenAid mixer for White Day."

Shirayuki broke out in a giggling fit. Thinking about Obi shopping for anything besides scarves and black T-shirts made her heart flutter. Obi was her best friend and as cliché as it sounded, he meant the whole world to her.

Homemade cookies, Shirayuki agreed. Yes, he would like that.

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day. Shirayuki grimaced as last year's memory crept into her thoughts.

She was dating Zen, the most popular guy in Clarines. Even though he didn't go to Lyrias High School, all the girls knew him. Hell, all the boys knew him, and was even good friends with Obi at one point. Zen couldn't help receiving gifts from other girls, and he couldn't reject them because being a prince was his reputation. When Shirayuki gave him homemade chocolate cupcakes—a gift she spent all night making—he was less enthusiastic than she hoped for. "Oh," Zen gasped, giving Shirayuki a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a flash of disappointment. Shirayuki apologized, even though she had no idea why she was sorry. She was always apologizing. And although Zen thanked her repeatedly, she realized she wasn't going to be making him anything again.

Then she called him less and less. He canceled dates as much as they made plans for them. And like the end of a song, their relationship faded slowly.

And Obi was there the whole time, sitting on her shoulders—sometimes playing the devil, teasing and tempting her to live dangerously, but mostly an angel encouraging her to be herself.

"Do you want me to rough him up, Miss?" Obi asked, tossing the baseball to her like it was a ball of socks. "No, it's fine," she answered, catching the ball with ease and throwing the ball back with a bit of oomph in it. "Ow," Obi groaned, fanning his right hand, shaking the pain away. "He's a dumbass for dumping you, by the way," Obi huffed out, but he continued to throw the ball delicately like it was made of yarn. And it landed in her hands softly. Shirayuki felt a tinge of anger rise to her cheeks as she stared at the ball in her hands. Geez, I'm not that fragile, she thought.

"No, I think we ghosted each other," she retorted, throwing the ball over his head, on purpose.

Obi glared at her, sighing with annoyance. Shirayuki shrugged, giving him a smirk. "Now throw it to me normally, okay?"

Their hangouts soon became more like dates, changing little details of their behavior.

"I don't have cooties, you know," Obi said, unsheathing a straw. Obi's lips curled into a smile and his tongue peeked out as he lowered his head to take a sip of cherry Coke. "I know," Shirayuki said shyly, throwing an unwrapped straw at Obi's face. She leaned across the table, and Obi watched her, gripping the cup tightly, as Shirayuki slowly drank from the same straw, never leaving her eyes on him. He turned away, a tint of pink on his cheeks, and Shirayuki heard him mumble, "Lucky, lucky straw."

When they went to go see a movie, they both reached for the arm rest that separated the two seats between them—lifting it up together. Shirayuki scooted past her seat and Obi lifted his arm, resting it on her shoulders. She laid her head on his chest, his long breathes soothing her. Dammit, why couldn't they have picked a longer movie?

And during one of their study sessions, the silence was unbearable. Shirayuki stretched her legs under the table, her bare feet accidentally grazing Obi's knees. Obi looked up from his book, meeting her gaze. Shirayuki's eyes went wide, embarrassed. But before she could retract her legs, Obi grabbed them and pulled her closer, laying them on top of his thighs. "Relax," he said, squeezing one of her ankles. She flushed red, lowering her eyes, forgetting how to breathe. She was far from relaxed. "D-Do you know what formula you—" Shirayuki's breath hitched. Obi's fingers climbed up her left shin, and his palm rested on her knee. Her body was on fire, knots forming at the bottom of her stomach.

She watched Obi turn a page slowly, golden eyes blazing into her green. Her whole body melted, softening as Obi massaged the back of her knees. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Algebra test be damned.

Two can play that game, she thought. Shirayuki flexed her left foot, curling her toes against the inside of Obi's thighs. "What did you use to solve question twenty-three?" she asked, feeling a twitch against her foot. Obi turned his head quickly, and Shirayuki caught a glimpse of red on his cheeks. "I…" Obi's voice trailed off. Shirayuki flexed her foot again, and Obi's hands gripped the table like he was almost knocked out of his chair.

It was Yuzuri's idea to bake chocolate cookies for the boys. And when she meant bake, she meant buying all the ingredients while Shirayuki mixed the batter. Suzu deserved the best, she said, even if it wasn't made by her.

"What the hell are you two, anyway?" Yuzuri asked, lifting an eyebrow and grinning. Shirayuki squeaked, surprised by such an invasive question. "Me and who?" Shirayuki retorted, her voice unconvincing.

"You and Suzu," she said, deadpan. Her eyes narrowed at Shirayuki.

Shirayuki's body froze from the slight chill in the air. "Oh. Uh…"

"Oh, my God, dum-dum," Yuzuri huffed with a teasing smile. "Of course you and Obi."

Friends. Friends would be the right answer, of course, but Shirayuki just couldn't bring herself to label their relationship that way. He was so much more to her.

She stopped stirring. Her eyes fluttered closed as her mind drifted back in time.

It was Obi who caught her when she almost fell that one time she carried books twice her weight. It was Obi who took a punch in the face when she was being harassed by three dudes who liked her red hair. It was Obi who stayed with her for hours when Zen stood her up. It was always Obi.

"Earth to Shirayuki," Yuzuri's voice echoed in her ears.

Shirayuki's eyes snapped open. She shook her head like she just woke up.

"I don't know what I am to Obi, but I know what he is to me."

She looked at the bowl of batter in her arms and handed it to Yuzuri.

"No, this isn't right," she said, shaking her head. Yuzuri looked at her, narrowing her eyes. "I am not mixing another batch, Shirayuki," Yuzuri said, scooping a ball of cookie dough from the bowl.

Shirayuki continued to shake her head. "Obi deserves better."

Suzu was inhaling the cookies, crumbs falling out of his mouth as he moaned in delight. Obi stared at his younger friend, eyes darting at the nearly empty basket in his hands. The bastard didn't even offer me some, he thought. He was not a jealous-type of guy, but he couldn't remember the last time he had chocolate cookies. And Suzu ate them like it was his last meal.

"So are those from…" Obi's voice trailed, wishing the words never came out. Today was not the day he wanted to wear his heart on his sleeve.

"Yeah, Yuzuri and Shirayuki made them last night," Suzu bragged. He placed the basket back inside the plastic wrapper, saving three cookies, and tied it with the red ribbon it came with.

"That's cool," Obi said as his eyes wandered aimlessly in the cafeteria. They were searching for someone. Maybe someone with a basket of cookies, too. A stinging pain shot into his chest.

Lunch was almost over and Obi's heart dropped further down to his stomach as the minutes passed by. He told himself last night not to expect anything—it was just like any other day.

Obi left gym class ten minutes early, heading straight to the chemistry lab. He was going to walk her home today, dammit—just like any other day. The last school bell rang, and Obi stood underneath the tree where he usually waits for Shirayuki.

He watched a few students trickled out of the room. His body tensed when he finally caught a glimpse of bright red coming out. "Miss!" he yelled, waving an arm at her.

Shirayuki met his gaze, eyes bright, and smiled her usual smile at him.

"Ready to go home, Miss?" Obi asked shyly, his hands tucked inside the front pockets of his pants. He could barely look at her, fighting back feelings that were clawing their way out.

"Um, sure, Obi," she said, the words dragging out slowly. "But I need to stop by the greenhouse on our way out."

They walked side-by-side, their hands brushing against each other with each step. He couldn't remember whose hand reached out to the other, but their fingers were finally intertwined.

"How was your lunch?" He knew it was a punk-ass question. He wanted to ask where the hell she was. But like his mother always said, "Don't ask questions you don't want answers to."

And he was afraid to confirm doubts that swirled in his head the last couple of months.

He didn't know what he was to her, but one thing he knew for sure—he liked Shirayuki, a lot.

He liked her since the first time he met her when she almost fell, hauling books like she lifted weights on the regular. He dedicated his mind, body and soul to her the day he was blindsided by a jerk and his two friends harassing her. And he gave his heart to Shirayuki, replacing the one Zen broke when he stood her up at the festival last year.

"I went home for lunch," Shirayuki answered, squeezing his hand. "I forgot your present and went home to get it."

Obi's knees buckled. He stopped walking like his legs forgot how to work. "P-P-Present?" he stuttered. So much for playing it cool.

Shirayuki held his hand tighter, pulling his arm to move him forward. "Come on. I'll give it to you in the greenhouse."

They ran.

"It smells nice in here," Obi muttered, dramatically inhaling so she knew he was sniffing the air. God, the anticipation was killing him. His heart was pounding in his chest.

The greenhouse was like a labyrinth with rows and rows of different plants. Obi had no idea where they were heading, but as president of the Garden Club, Shirayuki knew exactly where to take him.

They finally reached the back corner with a bench surrounded by tall bushy hedges that hid it from the glass walls. It was discrete. Private. Intimate.

Shirayuki sat down, dragging Obi right next to her.

"Is this where you kill me?" Obi teased, letting out a small nervous chuckle. There was enough light for Obi to catch her flash of a smile. There was a sense of danger on her lips.

"I arranged this spot last year. The leaves catch more sun, so they're healthier," she explained, looking up above them. "They grew so big that they formed into an awning. It's a good place to be alone."

Alone. Obi swallowed hard as they locked eyes. She moved in closer, her face so close Obi could feel the heat of her breath. He wasn't sure if he was still breathing.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

Obi's eyes went wide, waiting for her to take back what she just said. But she didn't. She cupped his face this time, and repeated, "Kiss me." Yeah, she said it loud and clear.

He closed his eyes, tilted his head and parted his lips over hers. Their lips moved slowly, savoring each time they met. He flicked his tongue and slid it against her bottom lip. His taste buds sparked, tasting a familiar flavor. His eyes shot open and he pulled back.

"Is that… chocolate?"

Shirayuki slowly smiled, her eyes half-lidded. "Yeah. Happy Valentine's Day," she panted, still trying to catch her breath. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and took out a lip balm.

Obi grinned when it finally dawned on him what her present was. Chocolate kisses.

She pecked him, and he felt her smile against his lips.

He slid his hands into her hair, pulled her closer and rested his forehead on hers.

"Thank you," he exhaled, his eyes closing softly. Obi tasted the chocolate again.

And they continued to kiss, dragging their lips and tongue until the flavor faded away.