All the Right Moves

by Taylor, Becca

  “Because you only had eyes for Amanda once you saw her in a bikini. And boobies, really? Add talking in grown-up words to your list.”

  While she was talking, I closed the washer, added the soap and softener, put in the required number of quarters, then moved closer to Tenley. “I was keeping it clean for nostalgia's sake. Don’t worry, Tenley. You’ll see I have quite a way with words when it’s adult time.” I could have sworn her body shivered a little, but I didn’t want to push her any further. Baby steps. I hopped up on the washer next to her. “Besides, I gave up on Amanda once she and Keaton started dating.”

  “According to him, they weren’t dating,” Tenley stated matter-of-factly.

  “Really?” For a half a second, I wondered how she knew this about Keaton, and I didn’t. Was she having alone talks with him?

  “Yes,” she huffed, then waved her hands. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you promised to never bring the kiss up again. It was traumatic for me.”

  “I’ll never bring it up again.” Even though I was the one who had a fat lip for a week, it didn’t bother me. If anything, it helped me out. Girls thought I got in a fight, which was the story I made up to anyone who didn’t know the truth. It made me cool, a bad boy for a whole two months, which upped my kissing game from 1950’s to adding tongue. Good times.

  A light punch hit my arm. “Stop thinking about your old make-out sessions.”

  I rubbed the injured spot. “Ouch.”

  “It didn’t hurt.”

  “Yes, it did. Want to kiss it to make it better?”

  “Shut up.” Before she could hit me again, the washer stopped.

  “Saved by the buzzer.” I jumped down from where I was sitting to move everything to the dryer.

  I collected everything in two of the rolling carts, keeping the whites and darks separates, and then made my way over to the dryers with my box of fabric softener sheets. Tenley moved to sit on the tables where we, I, would be folding our clothes.

  “Anything need to stay out of the dryer?”

  “I’ll get them.” The way she jumped off the table you’d think someone lit a fire under her, but I wasn’t going to let her lift a finger.

  “I’ll get it. Just tell me what needs to stay out.”

  Tenley didn’t blush often, but right then, she blushed the deepest shade of red that I’ve ever seen from cheek to cheek.

  “My girl stuff.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific than that, Tenley. Compared to my clothes, everything in here is girly.”

  “My lingerie. Okay?”

  I should’ve felt awkward. Because even though I knew she had to wear underwear and bras like every girl did, I never thought about what kind of bras and underwear she wore. And I tried to play it off cool as if it was no big deal. I’d seen plenty of panties in my lifetime. God knew Chanel had enough pairs to fill three drawers. “Relax. I promise not to keep any just yet.”

  Tenley grabbed the first thing on top of the cart, which happened to be my T-shirt, just so she could ball it up and throw it at my head. “You won’t be stealing any of them. Ever.”

  I started loading everything into the dryer until I reached in and grabbed the softest material I ever felt. A thong. Not just a thong, though. It was my favorite teal color.

  Shit.

  And it was see-through lace.

  Double shit.

  My brain immediately went there. Tenley wearing my college T-shirt with this thong.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I tried to ignore it. I laid it on the edge of the basket and moved to the next item. Big mistake. It was a matching bra to the panties I had just held. For the record, I wouldn’t normally call myself a boob man. I was more of an ass kind of guy. Maybe it was because Chanel didn’t fill out a bra like someone who would fill out that one. Size didn’t matter to me. It was the person inside that counted, right? Except my mind went to the wrong kind of inside. The kind that wondered what kind of breasts would fill a bra like this. Big, voluptuous ones.

  Mother hell.

  For the first time, I found a flaw in my plan. I was going to see Tenley naked at some point. She was my best friend. And I was going to see and possibly fondle her... assets.

  How am I going to do this?

  It wasn’t too late to call the whole thing off. I could say, yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. Only the thing was, as I stood there with her bra in my hand, I wanted to know what was beneath the clothes Tenley wore.

  I looked at the lace one last time, thinking I’d put it down next to her panties, but something else caught my eye. A tiny slice. When I looked closer, I saw another and another. I picked up the panties and examined them only to find the same series of tiny slivers in the lace. Trying not to panic, I started digging through the basket to check her other “girly stuff.” They all suffered the same fate.

  I fucked up.

  “Is something wrong?” Tenley asked.

  I was sure Tenley saw me searching for the culprit. In my defense, I’d been getting a lot of packages coming to my apartment. And I had a habit of not emptying my pockets when I did laundry. So when I found the razor blade amongst the clothes, I knew I would be taking Tenley shopping.

  That was why later that night, even after Tenley said it was no big deal because she had plenty of girly stuff, I searched for panty gift ideas. It was also how I discovered Pinterest. And why the next day, I showed up at her apartment with a rose bouquet of lace thongs and a three-hundred-dollar gift certificate to a lingerie store attached. I thought it was better than sorry-I-ruined-your-unmentionables flowers.

  I also knew my fuckup would haunt me for far longer than a cut I got on my lip from my best friend’s braces.

  6

  Preston

  Surprise her with a home-cooked meal.

  EVEN AFTER I REPLACED TENLEY’S ruined clothes, I still felt the need to make it up to her. It was the perfect way to test out my skills and cook her favorite meal of lasagna. I looked at a million recipes on Pinterest. The app was now loaded on my phone and used daily. I wasn’t ashamed at all. As long as it helped me impress a girl.

  I had everything laid out on the counter—lasagna noodles, sauce, cheese, meat, spinach. Even though I was the worst cook ever, I was determined to make the best meal of my life. I layered everything according to the directions, turned on the oven, and slid the pan inside. I even bought one of those fresh already made loaves of garlic bread from the store. And if I calculated it right, I had forty minutes to set the table before it would go in the oven.

  With a little help my friend Pin who had me spending another hundred bucks, the table was set to perfection with a low unscented candle centerpiece, linen napkins, and these stupid plates they named chargers—probably after the ridiculous price they charged for them. It looked good, though, if I did say so myself.

  The timer dinged, letting me know it was time for the bread to go in. Everything smelled fantastic when I opened the oven door.

  I just may pull this off.

  Tenley knocked on the door as I was lighting the candles on the table. Perfect timing.

  She entered my apartment in a frenzy. The strap of her gym bag was pulled over her head, then dumped it on the coffee table. “I’m sorry. Some guy in class was having trouble with his Ananda Balasana.”

  “I have no idea what that is.” I didn’t know a thing about yoga, but it sounded painful to me. Tenley rolled her eyes. She dropped to the floor to demonstrate. Lying on her back, she lifted her legs to the ceiling, then touched her toes and bent her knees at a ninety-degree angle. My mind went to two places. Neither was appropriate.

  One… damn, she was flexible.

  Two… she was in the perfect position for me to slide in front of her.

  “Tenley”— I cleared my throat—“I don’t think he needed help.”

  With perfect grace, she rocked forward to a sitting position. “Yes, he did. I had to show him like five times before he got his alignment right.”
<
br />   “Where was he when you were in this pose?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “He was on his knees in front of me.”

  I might have to stand guard at these classes from now on. “So let me get this straight. You were lying on the floor, in anaconda position, and he was on his knees in front of you?”

  “Ananda Balasana. Yes.”

  She acted as if it was normal. It wasn’t.

  “How old was this guy?”

  “I don’t know, maybe sixty.”

  Jesus. “And you don’t see anything wrong?”

  “No.”

  I broke it down for her. “Some guy was kneeling in front of you, your legs in that position while you were in those tight little yoga shorts”—which were way too tight and very short—“and he needed you to show him multiple times how to get his ‘alignment’ right.”

  Her eyes focused on the ceiling almost as if she recalled the whole encounter again until her face scrunched. “Eew. You think?”

  “Yeah, I think.” Because I was thinking the same thing.

  She jumped to her feet, then grabbed her bag.

  “Where are you going?”

  Her movements were frantic again. “I need to go take a shower. You just skeeved me out.”

  I stopped her by grabbing the strap of her bag. “It’s all good, Ten. You just gave the dude one for the spank bank.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Maybe even gave me one for mine,” I joked but not really. I’d never really taken inventory on Tenley’s work wardrobe before. I made a mental note to pay attention from then on. She was wearing a long-sleeve, off-the-shoulder shirt with, what I imagine was, her sports bra straps showing. Those booty shorts were the icing on the cake. Yoga did a body good.

  “Oh my, God.”

  “I may have to drop by a class or two.” I tilted my head to the side. “You know, to check things out.”

  A pillow flew across the room and hit my head. “You’re a jerk.”

  “Moi? I only want to keep an eye on my girl.”

  “No. You want to check out the women in my class.”

  There was only one I felt like checking out at the moment, and she was standing in front of me looking disgusted. “I made a promise. For the next twenty-four days, I’ll only be looking at you.”

  “Preston.”

  Luckily, the timer saved me. I had a gut feeling Tenley was going to back out of this. “Dinner is served.”

  I made a mad dash to the kitchen. Armed with my Wolverine oven mitts Tenley gave me last Christmas, I took out the lasagna and placed it on the counter.

  “Wow, I didn’t even notice the table. You went all out,” she said.

  “You like?”

  “It’s very...” She didn’t finish.

  “Romantic?”

  “I was going to say Martha Stewart, but we can go with romantic.”

  She was trying to unman me. I get it. Moments ago, I objectified her job and her. But I meant it as a compliment. “Just sit down.”

  She pulled out her chair, then sat. I watched how she delicately ran her fingers over the silverware—the real kind I spent an hour polishing—then placed the napkin on her lap. A crooked smile formed on her lips. Right then, I knew she was impressed. Which meant I did good.

  Only when I cut into the lasagna, I realized I did wrong. Water filled the pan as I pulled the first slice out. The insides fell out of the noodles, leaving a mess of wilted spinach and gray beef.

  “Shit.” I thought I said it under my breath.

  “Everything all right?” Tenley asked from the table.

  No. Think, Preston, think. If I drained the water, maybe the rest would be okay.

  It wasn’t, though.

  As I tried to drain some of the water, the whole lasagna slid out of the pan and made a mess in the sink. At least we had bread.

  Shit, the bread.

  Before I finished the thought, the smoke alarm blared through the room, reminding me I forgot the damn bread. When I opened the oven, a plume of smoke filled the room. I waved the Wolverine’s claws—yes, my mitts were claw-shaped—praying it would disperse. All it did was make me cough.

  Tenley came to my rescue. She turned on the fan on the stove hood I didn’t even know existed, then opened the windows to air out the apartment.

  “How does pizza sound?” I asked her as I pulled out my phone.

  She blew out the candles. “Sounds great. Let's eat at my place instead.”

  We sat on pillows on the floor of her living room and ate pizza while watching some romantic comedy she had picked out on the television.

  “You know you could have asked me to teach you how to make dinner tonight,” Tenley said as we moved from the floor to the couch.

  I pulled her legs across my lap to allow her to get more comfortable. “I wanted to impress you.”

  “I was impressed, all right. The only thing that would have made it better was if there were flames involved.”

  I tickled the spot behind her knee. “Very funny. Who’s laughing now?”

  Between fits of laughter, she choked out, “Still me.”

  I stopped. “At least I made an effort. That has to score me some boyfriend points.” The words slipped out.

  “Fake boyfriend,” she pointed out.

  Something about the word fake rubbed me wrong. I wasn’t her boyfriend, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, but it was the way she quickly spit it out without thought. Maybe it was because we were only two days into my list, and I failed both times.

  “I’ll try harder.”

  “You know what would make up for dinner,” she said playfully.

  My dick perked up as if he had ears. I moved Tenley’s leg slightly forward, hoping she wouldn’t feel his reaction to her words. “What’s that?”

  “Cheesecake.”

  Discouraged, he deflated. It was too soon. I knew it, but why did my body react to the thought of making it up to Tenley?

  Because you’ve been celibate for almost three months. That’s why.

  I moved Tenley’s legs, then stood. In my fridge sat a New York style cheesecake I knew she’d die for. I paused the movie because even though it was about a guy trying to win a girl over who had no memory, it was still funny. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked the twenty steps next door only to come back armed with the biggest triple chocolate cheesecake I could buy and half a gallon of milk to wash it down with. If one was to go in a chocolate-induced coma, it would be from this. The layered dark, milk, and white chocolate cheesecake rested on a crust of chocolate cookie crumbles. It looked like the baker had rolled it in chocolate curls. In the middle of the whipped cream topping was a layer of chocolate ganache. Am I boyfriend material or what?

  I placed two large slices of the gooey chocolatey goodness in front of Tenley on the coffee table. “Your wish is my command.”

  She jumped up, awarded me with a kiss on the cheek, and ran to the kitchen to fetch forks and two glasses. “You’re the best fake boyfriend ever.”

  If I was going to be fake, at least I was the best at it. We’d work on dropping the pretenses later. If we were going to give this project a go, I didn’t want anything fake about it. After all, it was all the faking my ex did that brought me here in the first place.

  No more pretending, which meant I had to step up my game. I was a man on a mission. And my mission at that point was to make Tenley forget all about watery, burnt dinners. When she offered me the fork from her hand, my plan formed. I grabbed both from her hands.

  “Lie down, baby. Let Preston take care of you for the rest of the night.”

  Tenley looked hesitant. “Okay.”

  She sat back down and scooted to the middle of the couch. I readjusted the pillows so she could lean back, then resumed our position from before with her legs across my lap. Leaning forward, I pressed play on the movie, poured the milk, then picked up the plate holding the cheesecake.

  As I fed her the firs
t bite, she was tentative. But as soon as the chocolate touched her tongue, her head fell back with a sigh. “That is so heavenly.”

  I know, baby. I know.

  I took a bite. It was the first sweet I’d had in two months, and it was so good. I didn’t care if I was going to have to work out double tomorrow. So worth it.

  With one fork, I alternated bites between Tenley and me. I watched her mouth every time she took a bite. Why didn’t more women enjoy eating like this in front of men? I loved that about Tenley. If I told her we were going out for wings and beer, she challenged me to a wing eating contest. If we were going out for a burger, she always asked for the same bacon loaded cheddar burger as I did. She was my food soul mate.

  She didn’t have any shame in licking the fork clean or devouring a third of the cheesecake with me. After all the chocolate, I handed her the milk, which she drank in one gulp. I watched as her tongue stuck out, swiping the milk mustache from her top lip.

  “You get an A plus tonight,” Tenley said as she sank further into the couch. “Oh, and feel free to feed me anytime. That was hot.”

  Mission accomplished.

  7

  Preston

  Don’t be afraid to ask for her help.

  I KNEW TENLEY DIDN’T BELIEVE ME about checking out her yoga class, but I wasn’t lying. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I showed up at her class thinking it would be a piece a cake. I mean how hard can posing in some stretches be?

  The day I called to sign up for the class, the girl on the phone asked me what I was looking to accomplish. There was only one goal I wanted to complete and that was to check out my best friend in action. Though I didn’t think that answer would be appropriate and it might make me sound like some creepy stalker. Instead, I made up a series of semi-lies, letting her know that I was looking for something after a hard week in the gym to stretch out my body and reduce stress in my life. To let off steam.