C is For Cookie, That's Good Enough for Me

I have been up to my eyeballs in work this weekend, which sucks for many reasons, not least of which is that I was dying to write in about the updates with my salsa instructor.

So, after Tuesday's very weird day with him, I decided that I would respond to his suggestion/demand that someone bring in a snack for the class by making him cookies. I, in fact, made him my brother's favorite cookies.

When I brought in the cookies, we had a very cute interaction that went thusly (imagine his voice being cute and flirtatious, not standoffish as it may seem he was in the transcript):

Me: I brought you something.

Him: Cookies?!?

Me: Yeah, well, last class, you demanded someone bring a snack.

Him: I did not demand.

Me: You insisted.  You said you would make us do spin drills the whole time if no one brought you a snack.

Him: I just said it would be nice if someone brought in food.

Me: I think you were faint from hunger, and your memory is wrong.  You said you would make us do spin drills until we threw up.

Him: Maybe we should ask the others.

Me: They won't remember.

Him: Are these for me, or for the class?

Me: For you, but you can share them with whoever you want.  They're your cookies.

Him: For the class.

So, then, during class, I could feel him watching me more than usual. It's expected that he would watch me some of the time since he is a teacher, and he is supposed to be correcting my abysmal footwork, but I think he watches me more than he has to. It's strange because I'm very aware of him and when he's watching me, and that has never been the case with any other guy I've been interested in. Maybe he just has a particularly penetrating gaze.

On our break, he busted out the cookies for the class. I had worried that he might not eat them because I think he tries to keep things pretty healthy, but he threw his face right in the cookies, and he said how good he thought they were. I don't think he was just being polite because: (1) the Known Associate can bake the heck out of some cookies and (2) the rest of the class fell upon the cookies like a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat, and they would have no reason to eat them out of politeness. (One girl nearly got her eyes clawed out for asking if the cookies were from a mix. She only avoided that fate because I gave her the benefit of the doubt for not knowing how I roll and because I didn't want the object of my affections to see what a temper I really have.)

After class, I was getting ready to leave to walk to the train, and he called me back over to him. We were talking facing in opposite directions with my entire side pressed around his entire side and my hand on his ribcage. I have noticed that when he has his druthers, we talk completely pressed up against each other, which suits me fine as well but seems like maybe not something a guy who just wants to be friends would do. So, then I told him he had to take the rest of the cookies home because they were his cookies, and he said, "Oh, I'm taking them home." (Never have I wished so fervently to be cookies.) He went to walk out into the waiting area where the cookies were, and I followed behind him, and rather sluttily held on to the waistband of his jeans while we were walking. In other words, I totally had my hand in the back of his pants like a big old skank (and it was awesome). Then, I proceeded whorishly to run my finger down the crease of his shirt and ask him if it was new, leading to a discussion of how it wasn't but it just had creases from being folded up in his closet. For the grand finale, he grabbed me and pulled me over to him to kiss me on the cheek.

Melt.