by A Collection of Valentine Themed Sexy Short Stories (epub)
“Ooh la la,” Olivia says approvingly. She touches her finger to her tongue and then the air, making a sizzling sound. “But if you really like him, and I know you do, aren’t you better off asking him out on a regular date? Like, maybe during literally any other time of year?”
“What’s so wrong with trying for Valentine’s Day?”
She laughs. “You’re fighting a losing battle. If you truly want that man, you should seduce him at a hockey game.”
I stick out my tongue. “I disagree. If he can’t fall for the spirit of Valentine’s Day, then he’s not the man for me.”
“It’s that simple? V Day or bust?”
“Look, Valentine’s Day has been good to me. I won a scholarship for college on Valentine’s Day, I landed my first good makeup artist job on this day, and I saw Wicked on Valentine’s Day and went backstage to meet the woman who does the green makeup. It’s my good luck day.”
She rolls her eyes. “Every day is your good luck day.”
“True. I’m kind of made of sunshine. But that’s also why Valentine’s Day has to be it. I don’t need to convert the man, but I also don’t want to get involved with a man who’s stubborn and set in his ways. Think of it as the perfect litmus test. If he bends a little, I’ll know he has an open mind and heart. It’ll be a sign that he won’t shut me down. I don’t want to clash too much with him, so I need to know we can both bend a little.”
Olivia drops her hand over mine, stopping me. Her expression turns serious. “If you’re trying to win his heart, you shouldn’t use lingerie.”
I pout. “Why not?”
“How will you know it’s not simply sex if you’re seducing him with sex?”
I consider her question. Olivia has always been the quizzical, logical one. But even though I lead with enthusiasm—hello, I was a former cheerleader—I have plenty of logic in ye olde brain too.
And sometimes the way to a man’s heart starts with his other parts. “But maybe that is the way to his heart.”
And if it is, I wouldn’t mind finding out.
All I need is a sign from him.
3
From the texts of Ally & Miller
Ally: Did you hear the news?
* * *
Miller: There’s a new edition of Bananagrams? I am so on it. I’m going to the store right now. I can’t wait to spell “diphthong.”
* * *
Ally: You are ridiculous! As if that’s why I’m messaging you.
* * *
Miller: Then spill the beans. Why are you messaging me if it’s not for something as epic as a new board game? We could even play dirty words.
* * *
Ally: It’s amazing that you’re actually an adult.
* * *
Miller: Don’t say that word. Makes me feel like an old man.
* * *
Ally: Anyway, I was texting to tell you something fun. Drumroll . . . Kirby and I are doing a series of special videos. For . . . guess what?
* * *
Miller: Winter solstice? The next lunar eclipse? When the Yankees finally turn good again?
* * *
Ally: Please. That last one will never happen.
* * *
Miller: Don’t remind me. I know too well.
* * *
Ally: We’re doing a Valentine’s series of music videos.
* * *
Miller: Hell yeah! That’s only one of my favorite holidays.
* * *
Ally: Every holiday is your favorite holiday.
* * *
Miller: I believe in holidays. What can I say?
* * *
Ally: You are definitely a holiday lover.
* * *
Miller: Holidays, vacations, time off. I adore them all.
* * *
Ally: Time off from what? Collecting royalties from all the hit songs you recorded from your hot boy-band days?
* * *
Miller: I’ve recorded plenty too in my hot man days.
* * *
Ally: True, some would say you’re still a heartthrob.
* * *
Miller: Once a heartthrob, always a heartthrob.
* * *
Ally: You said ‘throb.’
* * *
Miller: I’ve got a throb right here for ya, baby. :)
* * *
Ally: You’re too much. Anyway, it’s ironic because my brother is a total Vrooge. That’s what Macy calls him.
* * *
Miller: The Kirbster is a total Vrooge. And what’s the point in being that? V Day is all about love and sexy times and getting into the groove. That makes it a very good day.
* * *
Ally: I should have known you’d find a way to make it seem naughty.
* * *
Miller: Naughty valentines are the best kind.
* * *
Ally: Why do I even try to have a serious conversation with you?
* * *
Miller: Sorry, was this serious? My serious temperature taker said it was most decidedly not serious.
* * *
Ally: Like every conversation with you. :)
* * *
Miller: That’s why you love me.
* * *
Ally: I do love you. You’re the best friend a gal could have.
Miller: Note to self—remember that. Best friend a gal could have.
* * *
Miller: New note to self—there is nothing more that’s going to happen with Ally. Ever.
* * *
Miller: New new note to self—no matter how much you want to change her mind.
From the texts of Kirby & Macy
* * *
Kirby: I wanted you to know I’ve recovered.
* * *
Kirby: Well, mostly recovered.
* * *
Kirby: Actually, I’m still suffering.
* * *
Macy: What happened? Are you okay?
* * *
Kirby: From the way you and my sister subjected me to hearts and teddy bears at rehearsal today.
* * *
Macy: What sort of recovery has been required? Was it lots of chest-thumping, Tarzan-ing, and other exceedingly masculine pursuits?
* * *
Kirby: Mostly it was pizza and beer. That’s often the answer. To all of life’s questions. And to pretty much everything.
* * *
Macy: *rolling eyes hard* Also, I refuse to believe you hated it that much.
* * *
Kirby: I’m trying to understand how you like it so much. Why? Tell me why.
* * *
Macy: Are you seriously asking me?
* * *
Kirby: Yeah. I’m trying to understand the obsession that women seem to have with it.
* * *
Macy: Are you grouping me in with all women?
* * *
Kirby: Not in a bad way, but women seem to dig it.
* * *
Macy: I don’t think it’s only women who dig this holiday. There are a lot of guys who do too.
* * *
Kirby: Name one.
* * *
Macy: From what Ally tells me, Miller likes it.
* * *
Kirby: Miller likes everything. He’s the world’s happiest person.
* * *
Macy: And what’s so wrong with liking it? Or being happy?
* * *
Kirby: It’s a social construct.
* * *
Macy: Lots of things are social constructs. And we still like them. The obsession with hockey could be considered a social construct.
* * *
Kirby: Whoa. That’s hitting below the belt.
* * *
Macy: Did it hurt?
* * *
Kirby: Nah. It’s just other things below the belt are more fun.
* * *
Macy: From Valentine’s Day to social constructs to naughty jokes . . .
*
* *
Kirby: I’m down with that direction.
* * *
Macy: I bet you are.
* * *
Kirby: Bet it all.
* * *
Macy: Anyway, I’ll get to the bottom of your disdain. :)
* * *
Kirby: How? Will you torture me with teddy bears and candy hearts?
* * *
Macy: I have my ways.
* * *
Kirby: I’d like to know what these ways are.
* * *
Macy: Would you, now?
* * *
Kirby: Yes, I very much would like to know your ways . . . especially if they go in certain directions . . .
* * *
Macy: I know what direction you mean . . .
4
Kirby
Tugging my jacket tighter, I turn the corner as the wind whips along the city street.
New York City is a cold mistress in winter, and this February she’s punishing all her residents. I’m done with work at the agency for the day—a task complicated by the minefield of secret cupid shenanigans at the office, but I’ve masterfully avoided all the valentine exchanges. It was a short day for me, and we’re recording the videos this evening. Then I’ll be done with this stupid holiday.
And on the day itself? Since Valentine’s Day is a Saturday, I’ll while away the day with sports and successfully avoid the love fiesta.
As I pass a jewelry store, I snap my gaze away from its obnoxious window signs about sweethearts and rings.
Besides, the whole complicated situation with Macy is another slap in the face. Even if I pursued something with her like I want to, it would surely go belly up. Bianca’s curse would prove true.
The woman I want is simply off-limits. She’s my friend, and friendships like this don’t come around often. I don’t want to chance messing it up.
Knowing my luck, I’d lose her as a friend.
I grab the door for Doctor Insomnia’s Coffee and Tea Emporium and head into my regular haunt. Escape at last—I can completely avoid the holiday in this store. The guy who owns the shop doesn’t have a single valentine decoration in the window.
God bless him.
I stride up to the counter and give a fist bump to Tommy, the owner. We catch up on music, and he gives me the names of some cool bands he’s been listening to. As I order a latte, he asks how things have been going at the ad agency.
“Working on a cool new ad campaign for a video game maker, and the client loved it. So I can’t complain about work.” That’s a place where I have good luck. “All’s well with you?”
“Life is always good,” he says as he makes a latte for a woman wearing a raspberry knit hat.
I glance around. “This shop is just what I need. I’m so glad you didn’t give into the madness of the holiday.”
The woman clears her throat, cutting in. “Could I trouble you to do one of those little latte hearts?”
“Absolutely,” Tommy says with a smile as he works his latte art magic.
I roll my eyes.
Tommy hands her the drink, and she grabs a seat. “You need to get over your hatred for Valentine’s Day,” he says, his tone a little stern.
“Why’s that?”
“Because someday you’re going to be with a nice woman, and she’s going to expect you to bring her flowers, roses, chocolate, everything.”
“Hopefully I’ll meet a nice woman who doesn’t expect those things.”
“I don’t think you need to meet a nice woman.” His growly, rough voice rumbles through his shop.
I furrow my brow. “Wait. You just said I needed to meet someone. I’m confused. Do I or don’t I?”
He presses his palms on the counter, his eyes intensely serious. “I think you already met her.”
“What are you talking about?”
He laughs and wipes the washcloth along the counter. “You met her a few years ago. Every time you come in here with Macy, you look at her like she’s the one you want to give flowers to, like she’s the one who deserves all the roses in the world, like she’s the one, like she’s the fucking one,” he says, emphasizing the last word.
I blink. I do? But inside, I’m wondering how did he nail it? Is it that obvious? I deny. “You’re crazy. I don’t want to give her flowers. We’re friends. Therefore, it’ll never work.”
Hello? Doesn’t he understand that I was cursed by a wicked witch?
Tommy shakes his head, laughing. “You young kids.”
I’m not that young. “I’m twenty-seven.”
“That’s young.”
“What are you saying I should do, O wise one?”
He drops the cloth, stares at me. “I’m saying that maybe you ought to get over your hatred of this holiday. And maybe you ought to get over all the reasons you’re not pursuing anything with the lovely blonde. Want to know why?”
“Tell me why.”
His eyes pin me with an intensity I rarely see in them. “Because she’s a sweetheart. A fun, great, kind, and caring woman. If you don’t see all that, trust me—another man will.”
I bristle, ten tons of annoyance landing on my shoulders. “How can you be so sure?”
He scoffs. “Some things you just know. Someone will appreciate her.” He reaches across the counter to poke me. “The question is—will it be you?”
I heave a sigh. “But what if it doesn’t work out?”
He answers with an eye roll. “What do you want to drink, kid?”
“Latte, please.”
He softens his tone as he sets to work on the beverage. “I know you think you’re full of bad luck or some such nonsense. But luck is what you make. So make your own luck. Let the woman know you’ve got it bad for her.”
His points are prodding at my skull, making me reflect on my own reluctance. Still, the obstacles seem too big. “And what about the fact that she’s best friends with my sister? What about the fact that we’re friends?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “Complications, whatever. You can sort it all out. In the old days, you know what the complications used to be? A soldier was going off to war and he wasn’t going to see his woman for four years. That was a motherfucking complication. You’ve got a minor problem.”
“I feel like that’s not really a fair analogy,” I say, deadpan-style.
“No, it’s not a fair analogy, and that’s my point. You don’t have a big problem. You have a little, itty-bitty, teeny problem, and little problems can be solved easily. Man up. Are you man enough to give the woman you want a latte with a heart on it?”
I shudder.
But somewhere inside, I know he’s asking the right questions.
And I need to find answers.
He slides me the latte he made for me, adding a heart.
I rein in my desire to roll my eyes.
I drink it, and as I do, I contemplate. I marinate. I wonder.
Fuck it.
I order two to go.
5
Macy
As I dust eye shadow on Ally’s lids, she hums a few lines from the song they’re recording shortly.
“Oh, I like that one,” I tell her. I take a step back and appraise my handiwork. “You look amazing when you’re made-up, but just the right amount of made-up.”
