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“Small is twelve, medium is sixteen, and large is twenty.”
Of course Holly knows. And she doesn’t deliver this information like she’s exasperated with the barista. Instead, she uses a teacher’s tone, pleasant and informative. I smile at her, but she’s fixated on the pastries in the glass display case.
“I’ll take a small jasmine green tea. No honey or sweetener.”
She glances up at me then, returning the smile, and then walks off to grab a table while I pay my part of the bill.
“You like green tea, too?” she asks when I sit down across from her.
“Haven’t given it much of a shot. But I figure, someone who comes here all the time knows what’s good.”
“I’d love to come here every day, but I only treat myself on special occasions. Or when I’m badly in need of a pick-me-up.”
“Why?”
“Money.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Can’t really budget for fancy teas and gourmet pastries on my salary.”
I’m not sure how to respond, but luckily, our teas and food arrive before I have to.
For the next few minutes, I get to watch Holly slowly pick off pieces of flaky croissant and place them in her mouth. Each time, she closes her eyes and hums to herself. The precise way she eats her pastry shouldn’t turn me on, but goddamn, it does. I’m focused on her mouth and her slim fingers, wanting both to be worshipping me the same way she is a piece of bread.
“Your turn.”
I choke on the swallow of tea I have in my mouth and spend the next minute coughing the hot liquid out of my throat. When I focus on Holly again, she’s no longer in the middle of a spiritual experience with her food. Instead, she’s examining me with concern.
“You okay?”
I nod even though my throat is raw. “My turn?”
She pushes the plate across the table, offering me the last few bites of her precious treat.
“Oh no. That’s yours.”
I go to push it back, but she shakes her head. When I still don’t move to eat it, she picks a piece off the plate and holds it in front of my mouth.
“Eat.” Somehow, she glares at me but also pleads with me.
I consider getting into another debate with her. The first was so fun. Instead, I obey.
It’s just one bite. No harm can come from something that small. Right?
When I open my mouth and lean forward, she blasts me with a grin. The buttery crust hits my tongue, and I go to bite down, only to feel my teeth gently nip the ends of her fingers. Holly’s eyes widen. She pulls her hand back but does it slowly. Her skin slides against my lips during the retreat.
The pastry tastes delicious, but it’s not what I want in my mouth right now.
Her hands wrap around her cup of tea, and she stares at me like I’m a puzzle to be solved.
I hope she takes the time to try.
“So, what do you think?”
“Best I’ve ever had.”
6
HOLLY
“If you keep squeezing those balls so hard, there’s going to be nothing left.”
