Alex's POV:

Jefferson and I have spent the last hour and a half arguing. For some ungodly reason, he thinks Oreos are better than Chips Ahoy. It's insane! He literally bought 3 packs of Oreos, but when I asked for Chips Ahoy he had the audacity to say "ew." I'm appalled.

"There are literally no better cookies on this planet than Chips Ahoy," I snap, shaking my head. "Oreos are just overrated, lazy versions of cookies with milk."

Jefferson gasps, looking offended. "How dare you insult the most delicious invention of all time!" He cries, turning his nose up dramatically. "Chips Ahoy cookies are just crumbly pieces of crap that pale in comparison to an actual homemade chocolate chip cookie."

"Wouldn't know," I grumble, shrugging. "But that doesn't mean Oreos aren't inferior!"

"Woah, woah, woah," Jefferson says, staring at me with disbelief. What did I say? "You've never had an actual chocolate chip cookie?"

I crease my eyebrows. "Um... no? Why?"

Jefferson's eyes widen. "Get the hell up, we're making chocolate chip cookies!" He demands, grabbing my hand and dragging me towards the kitchen. I begrudgingly go with him, dragging my heels the entire way so he turns around every few seconds and glares at me. He points to a shelf filled with cookbooks and nudges me towards it. "Third one on the left, find the chocolate chip cookie recipe."

"And what if I don't want to," I taunt, putting my hands on my hips.

Jefferson raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to make cookies?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

I sigh in (temporary) defeat and go get the cookbook, flipping through pages while my boyfriend digs through cupboards, pulling out ingredients. I think I'm in love with him. Not that I'm going to admit it.

The chocolate chip cookie recipe is about 2/3 of the way through the book and I plop it down on the counter next to the mixing bowl. Jefferson nods in approval at the recipe and grabs measuring cups from a drawer. "Alright. We are going to do exactly what the recipe says and you are not going to change anything because you don't know what you're doing and I'm not letting you ruin your first ever batch of chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, scanning the recipe. I hand him the flour, grabbing a measuring cup for the sugar. I can feel Jefferson staring at me while I measure, watching my every move. "I know you're watching, and no, I'm not going to change anything."

"That doesn't mean I trust you," he drawls, coughing pointedly when I spill the sugar. "At least not in the kitchen."