John leaned against the lockers, casually flipping a pencil between his fingers, when he spotted Arthur walking down the hall. A mischievous grin crept onto his face, and he called out, “Hey, Arthur! How’s your mom doing? Still as amazing as ever?”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, and he stopped in his tracks. “You really need to cut it out, John. This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, come on! I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. Your mom is literally the best thing going at CHS. Who else could pull off a baking competition like that?” John smirked, leaning in closer.
“She’s a great baker, okay? But that doesn’t mean you can drool over her every chance you get!” Arthur shot back, crossing his arms.
“Drool? Me? Pfft. I’m just… appreciating the culinary arts. You wouldn’t understand—your mom’s cooking is practically legendary!” John feigned a swoon, then made a dramatic gesture. “I could write sonnets about her chocolate chip cookies!”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “If you’re trying to get on my good side, it’s not working. I’ll revoke your best friend card faster than you can say ‘cookie dough.'”
“Revoke my card? You wouldn’t dare! How else am I supposed to sneak into your house for free snacks? I mean, your mom practically throws a feast every weekend,” John shot back with a playful glimmer in his eye.
“Are you serious right now? You think you can win me over with your snack-stealing ways?” Arthur huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “What’s next? You’re going to serenade her outside the kitchen window?”
“I mean, if the occasion calls for it, why not?” John shrugged theatrically. “It’s a classic move! You should be proud of me for trying to elevate the art of friendship.”
“Elevate? More like deflate! You know, if you keep this up, I might just alert her to your ‘admiration’—you know, just to see you squirm!” Arthur shot back with a wicked grin.
“Fine! Go ahead! Tell her I think she’s amazing!” John replied, waving his hands dismissively. “At least then I might finally get cookies with, like, extra chocolate chips! The kind that will make my heart explode.”
Arthur burst into laughter, shaking his head. “You’re incorrigible! Just promise me you’ll keep your love letters to a minimum. I don’t need to come home to kitchen love notes stuck on the fridge, okay?”
“No promises! I’ve been working on my haiku skills!” John replied with mock seriousness. “Here's one: ‘Your cookies are bliss, / They bring joy and happiness, / Mom, you’re pure magic.’”
“You’re impossible!” Arthur laughed, unable to stay mad. “I can’t believe you! Just promise me one thing?”
“Sure! Anything!” John leaned in, curious.
“Promise me that if you ever do serenade my mom, you’ll record it. I need that footage to hold over your head for the rest of our lives.”
“Deal!” John replied, laughing. “But fair warning, I might steal her heart along with her cookies!”
“Good luck with that, Casanova,” Arthur chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as they both walked down the hall together, the tension forgotten in the wake of their laughter.