A week from now and I would be back here again, although it didn't seem as though Jake would be getting therapy any time soon. He kept his head low as we made our way back through the empty waiting area. I wanted to speak, but there was clearly something on his mind.

My watch beeped, likely confirming my appointment for next Tuesday. Looking down at the notification on my smartwatch, I sighed at the reality. Weekly sessions which came from a woman who made me uneasy. Another stress to add to the mountain of others.

Appointment for 8:45 am 22nd of March

It was still early afternoon, 6 minutes past 2 pm. A part of me desperately wanted to see Charlie and Lillian again, be in a small safe space with them again. But given the rising issues surrounding Vextine, the Lower City Region was even less safe than usual. On top of that, I don't think it would be right to leave Jake alone like this.

We caught the train home in silence. We hadn't really spoken much since that questionnaire, and it made me feel strange. Despite opening up to me about a few things in his life, he seemed slightly colder. Although, the further we got from the building, the more relaxed Jake seemed to be.

He just seemed more tired than anything by the time we arrived at our station, walking back home. At least it was somewhat a home again, and not just a house I lived in.

It was a lot warmer in the apartment when we arrived home, and that wasn't just in regards to the temperature. I still felt strange to be around him, my mind kept bringing me back to the other night. But I pushed it away. Whether that was for his benefit or for mine.

"So here's what I was thinking," Jake grabbed a piece of paper from a pile of spare papers on the bench. There was some writing on one side which appeared to be the advertisements. As he turned it over, he grabbed a pen from the countertop. He returned back to the table where I sat.

Jake drew up a small table, writing each day of the week up the top. His handwriting was definitely not the neatest, but it didn't take away from the fact that I knew what it said. After he was done, he drew a big line across the bottom.

"We'll set up a dinner schedule," he began, sitting down beside me. He clicked the pen, and I flinched, finding the sound irritating after the session with Hannah. He didn't appear to notice, "We can alternate, so I can do Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Then you can do Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Then on Sunday, we can cook together. Does that work?"

I nodded along, watching as he wrote J and R under the respective days of the week. I found myself wondering if he was planning long term. As if we were going to stay in this situation for years, or perhaps the rest of our lives. I already felt more uneasy, slightly moving back.

"I was thinking this would help relieve some stress until we get the whole... switch situation figured out," he said, and as soon as he mentioned the switch, I felt oddly relieved. Relieved that this wasn't going to be permanent, that I wouldn't just fall into place as usual.

That I wasn't always going to just be a cookie-cutter girl.

"You and Scott were serious when you talked about that, right?" he asked, slightly eager. I nodded, thinking back to the minimally productive discussion that had happened a few nights ago. He seemed to relax a bit, looking down and awkwardly picking at one of his nails, "I just... I really like Jessie. And now it feels that- it's not just some distant fantasy anymore?"

If you liked Jessie so much, then why did you kiss me?

Of course, I didn't say that. Who knew the mess that would follow if it did. I didn't want to think about kissing anymore, I didn't want to think about Jake in that way again. And as long as he didn't either, then I was perfectly content with that.

I nodded and began to stand. Today was a Tuesday, after all, and given the schedule than I was to be cooking today. It would give me something to do at least, and although it was early, I thought it might be nice to make some of those cookies than Jordan had. Perhaps start to prepare for dinner.

I remembered the card Jordan had given me. I really wanted to know what symbolism the Fox stood for.

If Jake didn't know, Scott didn't know, I would try asking Charlie and Lillian. And if they didn't know, then perhaps I'd try my luck and visit Alice again. The Lower girl. If the switch was really going to happen, then we would have to get her to help us. I found myself thinking back to what Jordan had said again.

Life was made for taking risks.

It's something Marie would have agreed with. Already, my life was more interesting than it had been the past couple of years. It had only been just under two weeks since assignment day, yet it had been debatably the most intense and emotional two weeks in a very long time.

Perhaps even ever.

"Did you need some help?" Jake asked, standing up. I didn't realize how lost in thought I had gotten. Jake looked at me, slightly concerned. But it was me who should have been concerned, as looking at him, you would have thought he was going to fall over any second.

"You should go get some rest," I said, bringing out a small electronic tablet from one of the drawers. It took him slightly longer to process what I said. I knew he wanted to object, but he just nodded, walking over to the sofa before practically throwing himself on top of it.

Looking through the electronic tablet, I tried to find the biscuit recipe. She had called them ANZAC biscuits, although they were cookies, and I didn't exactly recognize the name. Going into the sweet food section, there didn't appear to be them listed under biscuits or cookies.

I searched the A-Z index, but that showed no luck either. I was about to give up when I remembered that Jordan had given me her number. And although we hadn't been given smartphones yet, it was possible to send and receive messages using the digital watch.

I sent her a message, letting her know it was me and asking for the recipe. I thought to pass the time that I might try and find a recipe to cook for dinner, but it seemed only a few minutes later my watch beeped again. I placed down the electronic tablet to check it.

Jordan had sent me a spritely message, explaining that the recipe was not in the recipe collection provided, instead, told to her by her Mom. Luckily, she had texted me the instructions, and I was surprised to find out how easy it seemed to make.

I began to follow her directions, preheating the oven and mixing the dry ingredients. It was surprisingly simple, only taking twenty or so minutes to actually prepare the mixture. Although, I did find myself having to measure a few times as I managed to get it wrong.

It was confusing that such a recipe wasn't in the collection. When I used to bake things with my Mom, she always explained that practically every recipe was included in it. And I had believed her. Yet, for some reason, this wasn't. I would assume that for once, they would put international feuds aside when it comes to a recipe.

Although, considering the way countries liked to act, that may be asking too much.

12 minutes after baking the cookies, I opened the oven, delighted at the fact that they were not charcoal lumps, but actually golden on top. The smell reminded me exactly of the ones I had eaten at Jordan's. The oven was radiating heat, so I quickly moved the dozen or so cookies onto a cooling rack, turning off the oven.

I began to clean, the recipe being slightly messy. It had taken me just under an hour, and in truth, it was the best I had felt all day. I felt proud, like I had created something by myself, and it wasn't just a mess. It was a tangible thing that smelled delicious.

I had forgotten about Jake sleeping on the couch and practically jumped when he groggily sat up. He still looked tired and worn, but he must have smelled something. I took off my gloves I'd been using for cleaning and awaited proudly by my dozen oat cookies.

Jake walked over, and when he saw them, he looked at me as if he was a child about to ask his mother for another piece of chocolate. It made me feel even prouder knowing that not only had I made something that I liked, but that it seemed Jake liked too.

Who needed therapy when I could just make cookies?

I offered him one, and hesitantly, he took a bite as did I. Although they were admittedly quite hot, the taste was worth it. Because it tasted like Jordan's too. Chewy, but not too much so that it was like eating dough. Jake nodded, taking another.

"Man, these are good," he said, making me beam. As he took another, I realized that there would only be a few left by the time I was done, "What are these? I swear I've already eaten three,"

And he was right, there were only a few left. And although Jake may have enjoyed it, I realized he wasn't the only one I wanted to have something I made. It was a sense of pride that I wanted to relish in. I took a tea towel from a small kitchen drawer and draped it over them.

"No more for today," I said, smiling as I realized how much of a strict mother I sounded like. As I placed down the cloth, I could feel the warmth seeping through the fabric. Jake pouted, but I continued, "I want to give some to others. I've never really baked something like this by myself before,"

And suddenly, I felt giddy, almost excited for the following day. To showcase my small but important achievement. It was dumb, idiotic, but I was proud of it. And most importantly, I wanted to share it with others.

And I found myself the most excited to share one with Scott.