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( 02 ) . a sweet tooth

"Whatever," he muttered, looking away and taking another bite of the cookie.

Minjae giggled, tucking her legs to the side so she didn't accidentally nudge him. "So, what's your favorite kind of cookie, then?" she asked, sounding like she was ready to memorize every word. "I could make you some that you'd... you know, actually enjoy. I've got a bunch of recipes."

"I don't really have a favorite," He muttered, avoiding her gaze as he stared at the street in front of them. "I didn't really expect to be interrogated about cookies."

"It's not an interrogation," she corrected, smiling to herself as she watched him try to maintain his cool facade. "It's what neighbors do when they're becoming friends. We're just getting to know each other! Besides, if I'm going to win you over with my baking, I need a starting point, don't I?"

He shook his head slightly, but Minjae could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch just the tiniest bit. "I don't remember agreeing to this 'friends' thing."

"Good thing I don't need your permission," she shot back with a grin, nudging his shoulder lightly. Jake's eyes widened slightly at the contact, and he shifted a bit.

He looked at her, his gaze steady. "You're... kind of impossible, you know that?" he muttered in annoyance.

"Yep!" Minjae grinned, completely unbothered by the remark. "And you're gonna be stuck with me, neighbor. Might as well get used to it."

Jake looked at her like she'd just proposed some outlandish plan he hadn't agreed to. He took another deliberate bite of the cookie, chewing slowly as if to say he was entirely unaffected. 

"I'll manage," he replied, his voice cool and dismissive.

Minjae tilted her head, catching his gaze, eyes warm and sparkling. "Oh, I don't doubt that. But don't think you can scare me off with all this 'I'll manage' business." She grinned, unshaken. "I've made friends with way grumpier people."

Jake's eyebrow arched slightly, but his frown stayed in place. "Is that supposed to impress me?"

"Not at all," she smiled, glancing down at her hands. "But maybe it'll make you a little less grumpy, who knows?"

Jake just shook his head. He rose, brushing off imaginary crumbs from his jeans as he looked down at her, that same mildly exasperated look returning. "Guess you're not gonna make this easy, huh?"

"Wasn't planning on it." Minjae replied, flashing him a bright smile, as unyielding as ever. Jake glanced at her, seeming to assess her with one last look before retreating back inside with a faint sigh.

"Good luck, then," he muttered, shutting the door with a soft thud.

Minjae stayed on the steps for a moment longer, grinning to herself as she watched Jake retreat into his house. The soft thud of the door didn't bother her—if anything, it only fueled her determination. Jake was like a puzzle she was itching to solve, and every little crack in his gruff exterior made her want to keep trying.

The next morning, Minjae decided to take her neighborly efforts up a notch. She whipped up a batch of fresh blueberry muffins and packed them neatly into a small wicker basket. With the basket in hand, she marched over to Jake's house and knocked on his door, brimming with enthusiasm.

It took a while for him to answer, and when he finally did, Jake looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess, his hoodie was half-zipped, and there was a faint crease on his cheek, likely from his pillow. He blinked at her, visibly confused.

"You again?" he muttered, his voice groggy as he rubbed his eyes. "It's barely 9 a.m."

Minjae ignored his half-hearted complaint and held up the basket with a wide smile. "Good morning, Jake! I figured you could use some breakfast."

Jake stared at the basket, then at her, his expression unreadable. "Do you ever... not do this?" he asked, his tone laced with both annoyance and bewilderment.

"Do what?" Minjae asked innocently, tilting her head.

"This," Jake gestured vaguely at her, the basket, and the general concept of her existence on his porch. "The overly friendly, sunshine thing."

She grinned unabashedly. "Nope. Get used to it."

Jake let out a soft groan, but to Minjae's delight, he reached out and took the basket from her hands. "Fine. But if these muffins are bad, I'm not holding back."

"Fair deal," she replied, stepping back and giving him a playful salute. 

As Jake shut the door again, Minjae returned to her garden, satisfied. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so determined to befriend him, but there was something oddly satisfying about watching him slowly lower his guard—even if it was only enough to accept a basket of muffins.

Later that day, as Minjae was weeding a patch of her garden, she heard the unmistakable sound of a throat clearing behind her. She turned to see Jake standing awkwardly by the fence, the empty basket in his hand.

"They were... okay," he said gruffly, avoiding her gaze. But Minjae didn't miss the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Okay?" she teased, standing up and brushing the dirt off her hands. "Is that Jake-speak for 'delicious'?"

"Don't push it," he muttered, though his tone lacked the usual edge.

Minjae laughed, walking over to the fence to take the basket from him. "Noted. But I'll take it as a win anyway."

Jake lingered for a moment, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. "Thanks," he said quietly before turning and walking back toward his house.

Minjae watched him go, her smile widening. It wasn't much, but it was something. One small step closer to cracking Jake's tough exterior. And for now, that was enough.