Date Me

by Logan Chance

  “Home sweet home,” she said, opening the front door.

  I stepped through the wooden door and was shocked by what I saw. Fuuuuck.

  “Belinda,” a blonde, wrapped in a white towel, screamed. Her body was soaked, water dripping down into places the towel barely covered.

  “Oh shit, sorry.” Belinda tried to push me out the door, but my eyes were fucking glued to the blonde. Something about her looked familiar.

  She ran down the hallway as Belinda laughed. “I’m so sorry. That was my best friend, Kayla.”

  As soon as she said the name, the night of the club with Connor came rushing back into my memory. It was her. Kayla.

  Panties were back on my mind. But, not Belinda’s. Kayla’s.

  Belinda led me to the couch where I sank down. “Want a drink?” she asked.

  I was in a state of shock, mostly. I couldn’t believe Kayla was her best friend. “Uh, sure.”

  She headed into the kitchen, rumbling through cupboards. “Water or water?”

  “Um, that’s a tough one. How about water.” I answered. “So, that was your best friend?”

  “Yeah. We run the bakery together. And live together. Again, sorry about that.”

  “No, I am,” Kayla said, walking into the living room. To my disappointment, she was fully dressed in black yoga pants and a pink cami. And no bra. She stopped in the middle of the room and I could see the outline of her nipples through the tight shirt.

  “It’s ok, I had my eyes closed the whole time,” I said.

  Belinda laughed returning from the kitchen as Kayla sneered, not finding my joke funny.

  “What are you two doing here?” Kayla asked.

  “Game was over. So, we came here,” Belinda replied, handing me a glass of water.

  “But, why is he here?” Kayla asked, turning her nose up at me.

  “I was actually just leaving,” I said, getting up from the couch. The situation was tense, and I knew when I wasn’t wanted.

  Belinda shot her a look of disbelief and followed me to the door. “No, you don’t have to go. What about the things you wanted to see?”

  Fuck, the panties.

  I shook my head as we stepped onto the front porch of her house. “Maybe another night.”

  She shut the door, stepping closer.

  The moment grew thick with something I couldn’t quite identify. It bordered on awkward. I urged my body to feel something more. She fidgeted, shifting her weight, looking down and then up at me.

  Thinking maybe a kiss could ignite the spark between us, I leaned in.

  I plunged my hands into her dark tresses and brought her lips closer to mine. “Belinda,” I whispered across her soft skin.

  Closing my eyes, I went for it. Our lips collided together and her hands gripped onto the material of my jersey.

  Her mouth was sweet. The kiss was sweet. Something was off, and it concerned me.

  My eyes opened briefly, and movement in the window caught my attention. Kayla peered out the window, watching us.

  I broke the kiss, stepping back. I’d had enough for one night.

  When I got home, my phone lit with a message from the Cupid site.

  I love the way your blue eyes sparkle.

  Cheesy I know.

  But, it’s still the truth. Did you enjoy kissing me?

  I reread Belinda’s message about the kiss. I did enjoy it. Kind of like you enjoy cold pizza, it’s good but not as great as fresh out of the oven pizza. I didn't feel a rush in my veins. That consuming hunger. An overpowering urge to make the kiss deeper and deeper because your body is on fire with need. Maybe it was because I saw Kayla watching. Something shifted inside of me when I saw her standing there. Whatever it was, I liked Belinda enough to give it another shot.

  I tapped out my reply.

  I love cheesy.

  I think your dark, blue eyes are pretty, too.

  Yes, I enjoyed kissing you, although I may need another shot again just to be sure.

  You game?

  I put the phone down, not expecting an answer tonight since she needed to be up early to make cupcakes. I grabbed my remote and flipped on the news. My phone pinged a few minutes later.

  Maybe.

  I’m so sorry about my friend, Kayla. I hope it wasn’t too weird for you. Hope you didn’t get too much of a show.

  I laughed and then my mind remembered how the towel clung to Kayla’s curves. Water droplets froze in time as they skated down her chest. I shook my head and typed out my response.

  No, I wasn’t paying much attention.

  Tell me about your friendship.

  She answered back almost immediately.

  She’s great. We’ve been friends forever. She loves to shop and dance. She hasn’t had the best of luck with men.

  What about you? Tell me about your sisters.

  I rolled my eyes thinking about Lexi and Marley.

  Marley is my younger sister. She’s leaving for school soon to become a doctor. Lexi is my twin and who knows? She’s dating a jerk named Jared. I don’t think it will last. I would move heaven and earth for the two of them if anyone ever hurt them.

  Why does Kayla have bad luck with men?

  What about you?

  Was it wrong of me to ask about Kayla? Probably. But, I couldn't stop myself from wondering about her. Did she have someone now? I didn’t want to pry, but Belinda was offering up information. Either way, it was fucked up. Belinda answered before I could let my thoughts venture further about Kayla.

  Your sisters sound amazing. I hope to meet them one day. As for Kayla, she just broke up with her boyfriend, and he was an ass. As for me, well, I’ll let you know.

  I smiled, for two reasons. One, Kayla was now single. Two, Belinda’s response about letting me know. I was one fucked up dude.

  We spent the rest of the evening laughing over movies and telling funny high school stories. She told me about her date for prom leaving her at the hotel when she wouldn’t put out, and it made me like her more. Made me know she had morals. She was a good girl and I liked that. She made me smile. Now if we could just get that kiss figured out.

  Chapter Five

  After a week of messaging with Belinda and getting to know her. I woke up Saturday craving cupcakes and decided to drop in on Belinda. Checking the GPS on my phone, I found the coordinates for the Bakery On The Beach and hopped in my truck.

  When I pulled up to the address listed, I took in the pink awning and green sign on the door. It was quaint.

  The smell of fresh baked goods wafted into the street as I approached the glass door with a large pink cupcake emblem etched in the glass. I pulled the handle and listened to the bell chime.

  Everything inside screamed cute. The dinette tables with pink padded chairs. The potted trees with twinkling lights. The mural of the beach on the back wall with a large chalkboard in the center. All the specialties were handwritten in pink chalk. I crossed to the counter and leaned down to peer at the nice array of cookies, cupcakes, and tiny glass jars filled with cheesecake. Fucking yum. My eyes were lusting after the chocolate cookies when the back door swung open.

  “How can I help...” I glanced up. Standing before me was Kayla. She was even more stunning than before. Her wavy, light blonde hair was in a loose bun on top of her head, powder dusted her apron, and she wore no makeup except for a dab of flour on her cheek.

  She placed the tray of muffins she was holding on the counter. “What are you doing here?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Looking for some cookies. Is Belinda working?”

  “Oh, right. Sure, let me get her.” She hesitated briefly before she navigated through the swinging door she had come out of.

  When she returned, Belinda followed closely behind her. I was intrigued by Kayla, but when I saw Belinda, my eyes lit up.

  “Oh, Erik, hello,” she said, bewildered.

  “I wanted to come by to sample your cookies,” I told her as she moved from behind the counter to stand bef
ore me.

  She laughed and motioned her hand toward Kayla, “Well, Kayla was the cookie baker this morning, so it’s her cookies you’ll be sampling today.”

  Was it possible to choke with nothing in your mouth? Because it felt like I did. I wanted Kayla’s cookies. An image of her in that small white towel, water trickling between her breasts, sliding down her legs, invaded my mind.

  Kayla gave me a small smile. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She picked up an empty tray and nudged the swinging door with her shoulder.

  “Sure, nice seeing you again,” I said, feeling slightly disappointed she was leaving. Just before she disappeared, she gave a quick glance over her shoulder and caught my eye.

  “I’m actually glad you're here,” Belinda said, pulling my attention to her. She looked adorable in her short pink apron and long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She led me to a small table off to the right and took a seat.

  The place wasn’t busy for a Saturday morning, and I smiled at her as I eased down onto the doll house looking chair. “I think your best friend hates me.”

  She gave me a faint smile. “No, she’s just quiet sometimes.”

  Sure. And she hates me. I studied her, raking my teeth over my lower lip. “So, you're glad I'm here, huh?”

  “Well, tonight I’m making eclairs.” She hesitated before continuing, “You could help. Why don’t you stop by here around eleven?”

  I knew nothing about making eclairs, but only if I didn't have to wear a pink apron, I could wing it. “Ok, sounds fun. I’ll see you then,” I said, smiling. Tonight, I would gain a new appreciation for baking.

  After talking to Belinda for a few minutes, I left the bakery with two jars of cheesecake and a pep in my step, excited to see her again. Messaging her was becoming my new favorite pastime.

  As I rounded the corner of the shop, Kayla was taking out the trash and stopped when she saw me. I braced myself for more of her “quiet.” Aka hate.

  “Be good to her,” she surprised me by saying.

  I slid one hand in my jean pocket. “I plan on it.”

  “Good. She needs a good guy.” She leaned her petite body against the back wall and smiled. “She needs you.”

  I chuckled. “How do you know I’m so great?”

  “I can tell,” she said, pushing off the wall and grabbing the garbage bag with both hands. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Here, let me.” I grabbed the bag from her and hurled it into the dumpster.

  “See, that’s what I mean.” Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and I had a hard time turning my head away. But I did, because tonight I was making eclairs with her best friend. Fuck, best friends.

  I gave a slight smile and decided to get the hell away from her. “Bye, Kayla.” She nodded and I strolled off in the opposite direction. Away from the blonde temptress. My phone rang as I was further down the street, and I glanced at the caller id. Fuck.

  “Hey, Lexi,” I said.

  “Dickface, did you find a date yet?” Her voice was breaking up a little, and she sounded out of breath.

  “Yeah, I did. What are you doing?”

  “I’m on the fucking treadmill. Jared thought it would be fun to join a gym. And it’s looking like I may fit into the sexy pink number I bought for the wedding.”

  The wedding, great. I was starting to dread all talks of weddings. I just wanted to get the day over with already.

  “Great,” I said, sounding unimpressed.

  “So, this date…what’s she like?”

  “She’s great, actually. She’s funny and witty. She makes me smile. What else can I say?”

  “Makes you smile? Puppies make you smile. Jesus, what does she look like? Will she get the job done for Steffie’s wedding?” she asked, breathing harder into the phone.

  “You sound like you’re dying. Is your heart rate in the zone it should be for an optimal workout?”

  “Fuck that shit. I don’t care about optimal. That dress will fit, dammit. She hot?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Yeah, she’s hot.” Honestly, I didn't care if she was or not. I liked talking to her. Connor would revoke my man card for that. But Connor could fuck off.

  “When you seeing her again?”

  “Tonight. We’re baking eclairs,” I said, laughing.

  “E—what? Um, ok. Don’t screw it up or you’ll be taking Hilda from my office. I know how much you love her. I won’t allow you to show up dateless.”

  “Thanks for caring,” I said, sarcastically.

  “Of course. You’re my other half. Now get moving on this date situation, and report back to me to let me know what’s up,” she said before cursing into the phone.

  “You ok?”

  “Yeah, remind me to kill Jared.” She laughed and then hung up.

  ***

  Nervous for my date with Belinda, I threw on my favorite Miami Heat jersey and gelled my short, dark hair. Tonight had to go better than our previous date. There would be a spark, if I had to rub our lips together like flints. Just as I was about to head out the door, my phone pinged.

  A message from Belinda on the Cupid site had me scrambling. I worried she was canceling on me and opened the message.

  A little f.y.i.

  I hate people, especially when they think they’re right. Someone told me today that the Cavaliers were going to win the finals. What nerve. Even though we don’t have James anymore, I still think the Heat has it in the bag.

  A woman after my own heart. She was a true Miami Heat fan, and my heart made a VIP space inside just for her. I grabbed my keys by the door and headed off to see her.

  When I pulled up to the little bakery, the light out front was turned off. I peered into the windows and didn’t see anyone.

  Maybe I should try the back entrance. I rapped on the steel door and waited.

  The door swung open, and Kayla greeted me. She appeared like she’d been in a flour explosion. The pink of her apron was nearly white.

  Her brows drew together. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Apparently, this girl didn't know how to say hello. “Belinda told me to meet her here.” I glanced over her shoulder, but no Belinda in sight. “We were going to bake.” I sounded like a love-sick idiot. She must have agreed, because she stared at me, and her eyes softened. A small smile curved her lips.

  “She had a migraine and just left. I’m sorry. She wasn’t feeling well. Here come in.” She opened the door wider allowing me to enter.

  The back-kitchen area was all stainless-steel countertops and appliances. Most of them I had no clue what they were used for. And the smell was to fucking die for.

  “I was just baking a few things,” she said, moving to one of the countertops where a baking sheet and a ball of dough rested.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” It was awkward being alone here with her, and an uneasy feeling rushed through me. “I guess I should get going.”

  “Want to help make beignets?” she asked, walking to the back of the kitchen near the ovens. “They’re just coming out of the fryer.”

  “Oh, sure. I guess I could help.”

  She lifted the fryer and emptied the contents into a little dish. “The powdered sugar makes it amazing,” she said as she sprinkled white powder all over the fried dough.

  I moved closer to where she worked, enticed by the smell. It reminded me of a carnival. My mouth watered as she plated the beignets.

  “All done,” she said, holding the dish out to show me. “Think you can handle doing that?”

  I grabbed one off the plate and popped it in my mouth. My tongue burned. “Fuck, they’re hot.”

  Her laughter filled the room. I stopped chewing, mesmerized by the sweet lilting sound. A small dimple appeared in her left cheek, and I smiled as I stared at it. She was really fucking cute, and I needed to get out of this place where everything was so damn cute.

  “Well, there goes my even number. Good though, right?” she asked.

  “Ve
ry.” I continued chewing once the temperature of the dough cooled. “What do you mean even number?”

  She blushed and my cock twitched. “I like to prepare and stock even amounts of beignets. They taste better in even numbers,” she said.

  How fucking cute. Well, I better help her out then. I popped another one into my mouth and smiled as I chewed.

  I winked. “There. All even again,” I said after chewing the little puff of heaven.

  She smirked. “Thanks.”

  I sunk down on a red barstool, straddling it. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?” I wanted to know something, anything.

  She raised a brow. “No laughing, ok?”

  “Never. Why would I laugh?”

  The way she put a hand on her hip and tilted her head told me she was debating on whether to believe me. What she could do for fun that might make me laugh had me fucking intrigued. Guess she decided I was sincere, because she gave a slight nod and crossed to a far-off shelf housing a small white cabinet. Please god, don't let me laugh at whatever is behind those doors. “We use a lot of eggs for baking,” she explained, glancing over her shoulder at me. “And well...I’ll just show you.” She opened the shelf and I stood and made my way over for a closer look.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what I was seeing at first, until I got even closer. Eggs. About a dozen. All lined up in a row. Not ordinary eggs either.

  Each egg was unique, with intricate carvings on each one. “Wow, you did this?” Gingerly, I picked one up and studied the patterns carved throughout. “How?”

  “Yes,” she beamed. “I blow out the yolk and clean the egg, then carve things into the shell. It’s calming for me. Takes my mind off things.”

  I wanted to ask what things but refrained. “I love it. This is so different.” I placed the egg back on its tiny stand and gently grabbed another one.

  “Yeah,” a sense of wonder entered her voice, “it’s incredible something so fragile can withstand such pressure, and not break, if handled with care.” She stared at the egg in my hand. “Just like someone’s heart, really. If you mishandle it, it shatters. Tiny jagged pieces in the palm of their hand,” she murmured.