by Lola StVil
“I love these damn things,” I reply as I pluck a small packet out from his hand.
“I grabbed that by mistake. No one likes Candy Corn. It’s the fruitcake of the Halloween candy world,” he informs me.
“See, Candy Corn gets a bad rap. All the glamor and glory go to the mini Kit Kat bar. And that’s just not fair,” I protest.
“Have you ever had a Kit Kat? Do you have any idea how good they are?” he demands.
“I’m sorry but your taste in Halloween candy is uninspired, and frankly, a little common,” I inform him as I pop a handful of Candy Corn into my mouth.
“Is that judgment?” Wyatt asks, doing a great job at pretending to be genuinely offended.
“Sorry, man, I’m just calling it like I see it.”
“Just what I would expect from a girl who loves Candy Corn,” he says, shaking his head in dismay.
“It could be worse, I could be a ‘Raisinet’ person,” I add.
“Or even more freighting, a ‘peanut chew’ lover,” he says.
“Argh! I hate those things,” I reply as we share a laugh. “When we were kids, my mom would make Bree and I hand out Halloween candy. But things were tight at home, we couldn’t afford the good stuff. So she made us give out generic candy. And trust me, it’s better not to give anything at all.”
“Oh no! Were you one of those houses that gave out candy buttons and lemon heads?”
“I’m truly sorry for anyone whose childhood my family may have ruined,” I reply with my hand on my heart.
“It’s okay, babe. My family was worse,” he assures me.
“What could be worse than generic candy?” I challenge.
“Fruit.”
“No!”
“Yup. Every year,” he says.
“Oh come here, you poor boy,” I tease as I sympathetically stroke his hair. It started out as a silly joke between us but by the third time I run my fingers through his hair, my heart is racing. The airy, lighthearted mood gives way to a new air: one of yearning. I stroke his hair one last time and promise myself I will stop, and I do. But my fingers lingered far too long and now I want to touch more of him.
He’s my abyss: my dark, sexy abyss. I’m standing on the edge looking down into a sweet void that could lead me to new worlds of pleasure and possibilities. I want to fall in. But this abyss could also take me to darker worlds, worlds I’ve been to before. The worlds fill every inch of you with sadness, regret, and self-doubt. Like the world Danny threw me into when I kissed him. When I dared to love him.
I’m fighting myself in a way I have never done before. All I want is to run to and run away from Wyatt, all at the same time. Which side is going to win? Desire will win out. I know this for a fact. I want to feel his lips against mine. I want the sweet nectar regardless of how poisonous the fruit. But that doesn’t stop fear of impending doom from ripping me apart. I can’t kiss him but I need to kiss him. My internal voices rage against each other.
Please give in, Winnie.
Please back away, Winnie.
He leans in slowly and places his hands on my waist, causing an erotic sensation between my legs that guarantees I’m going to give in. And yet, once again, I am truly, truly terrified.
His kiss will give me life again.
His kiss will be the start of the end.
He leans in, even closer; our lips are about to touch. But at the last moment, he reaches past my lips and goes to whisper in my ear.
“It’s okay, baby, we have all the time in the world...”
***
My cock is not okay with the decision that I made not to kiss her. In fact, no part of my body is okay with it except the part that I try to listen to the most—my heart. Christ, I wanted to taste her succulent lips and part them with my tongue. Even if we didn’t make it to bed, standing there holding her in my arms and drinking from her lips would have been more than enough to send me into orbit.
But it’s clear she wasn’t ready. I could see the turbulence in her eyes and although a very large part of her wanted the kiss to happen, some part of her was hesitating. And I don’t want our first kiss to be laced with any doubts or hesitations. Also, I couldn’t stand the thought that after we kissed she’d regret it. Or worse, she’d run away. So after I whisper in her ear, I reach over and kiss her temple.
My baby needs time, and I’m gonna give it to her. Just hope I can handle the wait…
Although I don’t get to kiss her, I get something equally good—I get to spend more time with her. I thought after the kiss didn’t happen she’d get shy and retreat, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was just the opposite. She asked if I was hungry for some real food. I said yes. So she suggests we go eat at one of her favorite deli places—Katz Deli. It’s a famous New York deli located on the Lower East side. Katz has been around since the 1800s. They are known for their towering roast beef and pastrami sandwiches. They weight over a pound and are easily as big as a human head.
We get there, and order. Soon, we are seated before the skyscraper of meat and toppings. We look at each other and laugh because we both know that this is not the way adults are supposed to eat. We have loaded up on beer, candy, and now towers of fatty meats. I tell her that we are officially frat boys.
“I have never seen a woman able to take on the pastrami they serve here,” I challenge.
“Well get ready, Mr. Hunter, it’s about to happen,” she says gleefully. Okay, I really thought she was kidding, but to her credit, she inhaled nearly all of her sandwich. I had to rush through my corn beef to keep up with her. When we are done, we down some iced tea, then split a slice of cheesecake. And by the time we get to the coffee, we are beyond stuffed. We talk about Man Vs. Food, a TV show about a guy who travels the world eating crazy large portions of food. It turns out she loves that show, just like I do.
When the waiter puts the check on the table, I reach out to get it. She places her hand on top of mine to stop me.
“No, it’s on me,” she says.
“Yeah, not gonna happen,” I promise her.
“What? Why? I was the one who invited you.”
“You’re not paying for anything when you’re with me,” I inform her as I take out my card and sign the check.
“Wow, I’ve never been flattered and insulted at the same time.”
“I have to pay.”
“Why, because I’m the woman?”
“You can turn it any way you like. I’m paying—every time.”
“You are such an adorable sexist.”
“I heard the words ‘adorable’ and ‘sex’, all good things in my book.”
She laughs despite herself and thanks me for the meal. Once we start talking about yet another crazy food show, I remark that my sister was a huge fan of cooking shows.
“Her favorite was the one where the guy will eat anything,” I recall.
“Oh, yeah! That one is great but it freaks me out sometimes. I didn’t know you had siblings. How many?”
“Five boys, including me. One girl. I’m the youngest. All of us are single except for my oldest brother.”
“And where does your sister fit in?”
“She was the youngest. Her name is Rose…or was. She died a few years back—leukemia.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Argh! Sorry I brought it up.”
“Hey, it’s alright. You couldn’t have known.”
“Okay. But I’m going to stick to asking you about TV shows,” she vows.
“It’s alright. You can ask me about Rose,” I reply.
“Really? Okay, well, what was she like?”
“She loved horses, chocolate, and had an extensive Justin Bieber playlist she thought we didn’t know about. The only thing she loved better than the above was food and travel.”
“How long ago did she…”
“Three years ago. In the beginning, when she first got sick, we got her this huge cookbook called The World on a Plate because she was obsessed with food and travel. In f
act, she wanted to be a superstar chef. She’d make us—by that I mean me—attempt one dish from each country in the book. We thought she’d get better by the time we hit the pastries of Zimbabwe. But she died somewhere around the stews of Jamaica. There was a small fire in the house, and the cookbook was destroyed. It’s out of print now, so…”
“Again, I’m very sorry.”
“I know. Thank you. It was hardest on my mom, you know? For a long time we thought she might not make it back to us. She went to this dark place and nothing we did could get her back.”
“Is she doing any better now?” Winter asks as she places her hand on top of mine. I’m taken aback by just how good it feels to have her hand in mine.
“Yeah, thanks to my dad. He was able to help her find her way back.”
“How long have your parents been married?”
“Forty years.”
“Wow, that’s a really long time.”
“Yeah, what about your parents?” I ask.
“They got a divorce about a year after adopting me. They were married for about twelve before that.
“It goes to show couples don’t last,” she says sadly.
I intertwine my fingers with hers and gaze into her bright eyes. “Winnie, it’s true some couples don’t last but some do…”
It’s almost midnight by the time we get her car back from the bar. She says she’s okay heading home, but what kind of date would I be if I didn’t see her to her door? She’s uneasy with the word “date.” I know because of the small flash of panic that appeared after I said it. I can’t help but smile to myself but in the end, I let her off the hook by changing the subject. We’re now standing a few feet from the entrance of her building. She’s hidden her sexy costume under her jacket but the light from the lamppost catches a glimpse and causes her to sparkle.
“I had a really good time,” she says.
“Me too.”
“Sorry I tried to ditch you earlier,” she says awkwardly.
“Wait, was that you?”
“Ha, ha. It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Well I met you diving in a dumpster, so my expectations were low,” I tease.
“Shut up!” She laughs as she playfully places her hand on my chest and pushes me away.
“I would ask you in but…”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s okay. I gotta get to work anyway.”
“Work? It’s almost 1 a.m.”
“We’re doing surveillance and my shift is coming up in an hour,” I reply, looking at my watch.
“Really? Who are you running surveillance on? Is it Donavan? Did you find out where he is?” she asks. She studies the expression on my face and then nods her head. “I’m guessing you can’t tell me.”
“It’s an ongoing operation, so I can’t go into details. But we hope to wrap this up by tonight.”
“So, what made you want to be a cop?” she asks.
“I wanted my job to matter and to help the community in some small way. I know it’s a really boring answer.”
“Yes but it’s also a good one,” she replies. “If you’re working tonight, shouldn’t you have slept in?”
“Maybe, but I knew if I didn’t make the effort to go tonight, you’d keep avoiding my calls.”
“I wanted to call you back,” she admits.
“I know.”
“I must be the most ridiculous girl you’ve ever taken to dinner,” she says as she frowns and bites her lower lip.
“You are the most interesting and the most engaging. Really, I had a great time. My only worry is that once I let you walk into your apartment, you’ll go upstairs and think of all the reasons to hide up there.”
“You think I’ll barricade myself in my apartment?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But if I did, you’d come and find me, right?” she says.
“Hell yeah, I would.”
“Glad to hear it. Hey, I meant to ask you, do you know anything about the Street Kings?” she says.
“Yeah, there a new gang, but what they lack in experience they make up for in brute force. They are really trying to make a name for themselves. They have a high number of new recruits, and they don’t care what it takes to expand.”
“Oh.” Fear and dread spread across her face as she looks towards the floor, lost in thought.
“What’s this about? Do you know someone in that gang?”
“Well, I’m not sure yet.”
“What do you mean you’re not sure? Winter, why are asking about the Street Kings?”
“It’s nothing, I just heard about them and thought I’d ask,” she says with a brand-new smile.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. I’d like to ask a follow-up question, but the fact is, I need to go now or I will be late. Decker must be tired as fuck right about now and I need to relieve him.
“I hate to end here, but I have to go,” I say as I take her hand.
“It’s okay. I understand,” she assures me. She’s nervous again. I’m guessing it’s because now is the part when we kiss, or so it would normally go. I kiss her on the forehead and tell her I will call her when I get off work. She’s beaming like a fucking angel. My angel.
***
I think I floated into work this morning. I didn’t use my feet at all to get me around. I suddenly had wings and everything was perfect. I can’t believe I had that much fun last night. I also can’t believe I stuffed my face in front of a guy. But I didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. It’s the best I’ve felt in a long time.
The moment I get to my office and sit down, Jana sneaks into my office with two cups of coffee and a thousand questions. I’m pretty sure she was waiting for me by her classroom, peeking out to see when I would be coming down the hallway. Stalker. She places the coffee cups on the table and takes a seat as if she’s just paid for tickets to see the greatest show on Earth.
“Okay, so I looked out the window and saw the two of you in the parking lot talking. You looked trashy yet sexy with your bunny tail, and he looked extra fuckable in his ‘I’m too manly to wear a costume’ and ardent stare. Take it from there; okay, go!” she says excitedly. I run down the events of last night to her. She listens as if she will later be quizzed on the story. When I’m done, she’s beaming with pride.
“I knew it! I knew this would work. You know, I try to be humble about the whole thing but the fact is, I have a gift,” she says as she studies her manicure.
“I did have a good time, and yeah you may have a gift of some kind. But it was wrong not to tell me he’d be there,” I remind her.
“If I did, would you have come?”
“Probably not,” I admit.
“And hence why I do what I do,” she says with a big smile.
“Jana, it was so much fun and I can’t even remember all the things we said to each other. It was just…effortless.”
“That’s great, honey. I’m so glad. Now, I love a ‘suspend the kiss’ moment like any other romance hound, but when are you gonna kiss him, on your next date? Or the one after? Hey, don’t make him wait past three dates, that’s just wrong,” she insists.
“We didn’t really talk about another date. He might not call.”
“Are you kidding? Wyatt is on you like the first BBQ stain of the summer on a white dress. The situation is real and it’s serious.”
“I love that he was okay with us not kissing.”
“What? No! He wasn’t okay with it but he put up with it because he sees how fucking fantastic you are and he’s willing to wait to get him some. I admire his patience. I mean, he could have any woman he wants and he’s willing to wait to kiss you. That means he’s special.”
“Last night I dreamed about him.”
“Really, how was he in the dream?”
“So good. I mean, Jana, I couldn’t contain myself.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be. So stop getting wild in your dreams and
do a little of that in real life.”
“God knows I wanted to last night.”
“Well then call him and tell him that.”
“What? No, I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Pick up your cell and call. Tell him you are ready to ride all the rides in the park,” she says as she moves her hips suggestively.
“I can’t do that.” I laugh as I sip on the hot coffee she brought me. A smile forms on my face as I picture what his reaction would be if I called and said what Jana wanted me to say.
“He went out of his way, Winnie. Now, it’s your turn. C’mon, call and say something...dirty.”
“Well, maybe.”
“Good, I’ll write down what you should say,” she says as she picks up a pen and begins to scribble on a notepad.
“I can think of something dirty to say on my own,” I lie.
“Really? Like what?” she challenges. Damn her.
“I’ll say, ‘I want you.’”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty dirty.”
“You need a lot of work,” she teases.
“Okay, I’ll say, ‘Hi, Wyatt, I had a thrilling adventure with you in my head last night. I really enjoyed it.’”
“You can’t say that.”
“It sounds courteous and satisfied,” I object.
“It sounds like you’re sending a thank you card to someone who gave you a blender.”
“I like blenders.”
“Keep it simple. Tell him you want to grind on him until his eyeballs pop out of his head.”
“Classy.”
“Isn’t it though?” she says as we share a laugh. When the laughter dies down, she looks back at me with a rare serious gaze.
“Winnie, you go as fast or as slow as you want. I just want you to be happy. And ever since you met Wyatt, you’ve been…glowing. Don’t push that feeling away, okay?”
“What if I can’t get past what happened with Danny? What if I’m too damaged—even for a guy like Wyatt?”
***
It’s a few hours later and the center is just about to close. All I need to do is sign off on some forms and I can get home. I thought about calling Wyatt but thought he must be tired, so why bother him. Okay, okay, I was afraid that calling him would seem needy. I was also afraid that I’d hear his voice and want to see him right away. I can’t do that because after hearing how bad these new friends of Carlos’s really are, I have to talk to him. This morning Luis told me he’d most likely see Carlos today and that he’d make him see me.
