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“Well,” said Sam, looking over the spread of cakes on the table before us, the cake store practically aglow from early afternoon light pouring in through the tall windows. “We’ve done lemon poppy seed, we’ve done triple chocolate oasis, we’ve done tiramisu cake.”
“That leaves,” said Pepper, doing some quick mental calculations. “Five more left.”
“What do you say, ladies,” said Sam. “We try the Nutella one next?”
“Works for me,” said Pepper.
She nodded to the pastry chef, who responded with a smile before heading back into the kitchen.
I leaned against the nearby wall, hoping that the many little bites of many different flavors of cake I’d had over the last hour weren’t going to go to war in my belly over the next few hours.
And then my phone vibrated in my pocket. I was almost confused—all my ladies were here. Then I let out a grumble as I realized it was likely one of the girls at the spa wanting a shift covered.
But my eyes lit up when it wasn’t.
Nope. It was Sean.
“How’s the sweet-tooth indulging?”
I shoved my phone back into my pocket, like I’d gotten some insane news that I didn’t know how to deal with. Sean and I hadn’t said a word to each other since the night of the party. And that was fine with me—the less we brought up the subject, the better.
At least, that was what I told myself. I knew, deep down, that the reality was that I kinda-sorta really wanted to talk with him. Not really about anything, to…I didn’t even know. And I hated that I felt that way, wanting his attention on the one hand but on the other knowing that every bit of positive reinforcement I gave him made it less and less likely that he’d ever bring up what had happened all those years ago.
And why would he? If I was nice and sweet to him he’d assume everything was cool. And it’d be my duty to bury the little fact that he’d taken my virginity and didn’t even know it, and I was still kind of burned up about the fact.
As all this went through my head, my hand sort of…moved on its own and took the phone out of my pocket. And then, of course, I typed up a response.
So much for playing it cool.
“Good,” I responded. “About to find out what lemon and Nutella and espresso all feel like in your belly.”
Send.
“Sounds awful,” came the response a few moments later. “What we have to suffer for our friends, right?” It was followed by a winking emoji, letting me know he was messing around.
“I know, I know,” was my response. “I’ve got it really rough.”
I watched as the pastry chef brought over a few more plates topped with slices of very fancy-looking cake.
“You know, you at that cake store gets me thinking about frosting.”
I was confused. “That right?”
“Yep. Specifically, about who I’d like to be licking it off of.”
Oh, wow. So this was that kind of text convo. No “ugh, boring day at the office. Work, am I right?” kind of lead-up. Instead, the very direct statement that he wanted to lick some buttercream frosting off my nipples. I mean, not that the idea was unappealing, but boundaries. I had to set them, and I had to set them fast. We had fun, but that was it—a little quick fun. That’s what we’d agreed to, right?
“That’s some interesting talk for someone with whom I agreed to keep things platonic.”
“Guess you’re right,” he said. “But I’m big into honesty, you know? No secrets among friends.”
“Even if that honesty involves licking Ghirardelli frosting off a dick.”
“Whoa,” he replied. “What I had in mind was a little tamer than that. But I like where your head’s at—or mine, in this case.”
Now I was thinking about his dick. Great. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and headed over to the girls, barely able to think about the cakes in front of me. At that moment, thanks to Sean, my thoughts were preoccupied by other very tasty treats I’d like to have in my mouth.
I had to play it cool. I was having fun with the texts, sure, but I absolutely couldn’t give Sean the impression that he could up and text me like this and have me at his beck and call. I pulled the phone back out.
“Interesting suggestion,” I said, not conveying the precise sort of interest I had in it. “But right now I have some pressing, calorie-laden matters to attend to.”
Phone back in pocket—this time for good.
The pastry chef went into explaining this particular cake, but my mind kept going right back to two things—the first being the cock-frosting mental image that Sean had put in my head. The other being how much I wanted my phone to buzz again with another text from him. As much as I hated to admit it, part of me wanted him to blow right through the icy front I was putting up and get to what I really wanted.
