Sweet Curves – Sweet Enough to Eat

“It’s hard to believe this is our first date. We’ve known each other for so long…” I moved in a little closer when her words trailed off, close enough that our shoulders touched in the booth we’d tucked ourselves side by side into.

“I was terrified of you,” I confessed, “so pretty and sweet and perfect, I didn’t think I deserved to even look at you.”

Her lips worked back and forth, a tiny dot of ice cream collecting at the corner. I swipe at it with my thumb, licking at the sweetness and digging down deep to not press my lips to hers in that second.

“I want to kiss you right now more than anything in the world, more than I wanted those tacos, and more than I want that ice cream.”

“Okay,” she breathed, barely audible.

“But the only thing stopping me is all the people who have eyes on the most beautiful girl in the room right now.” I caught her chin with my thumb and directed her attention across the room to the bar. “You see those two guys in the corner over there?”

“Yes.” She uttered.

“They’ve been watching you all night, hoping I’ll probably step away for a minute and leave you to the wolves.” I turned her chin to the other corner. “See that bus boy? Every time he’s at his station he lingers, and washes his table a little too often, just so he can stare at you. Every single time, cupcake. I’m not making it up, you’re a stunning woman You’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”

She shook her head, swallowing another spoonful of ice cream and then setting her utensil down. “Thank you, you’re so kind, but try growing up with a mother that–”

“Lies to you all the time?” I interjected. “You shouldn’t let people like that take up real estate in your head, Katie.”

“Let me guess, people like you and Jocko are a better influence?”

I laughed, tossing my credit card on the table when the waiter came to collect our dishes.

“I won’t speak for Jocko, but me? Definitely.”

“I’m so embarrassed to tell you this, but when I was in my first year of culinary school every student had to make a unique dish and serve it to a panel of judges at the end of the year–mine won, but that’s not the interesting part–what is…I named it…after you.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you made a dessert after me? Can I buy it at the shop? Is it like, The Sawyer?”

She laughed, covering her mouth adorably when she did. “No, I never had the guts to sell it, it had some pretty bold flavors.”

“Bold? Well, that’s it then, I’m sold. You have to make it for me.”

“Someday, someday,” she mused as the waiter returned, nodding and thanking us before we stood, ushering our way out of the booth.

A few minutes later we were bustling down the city sidewalk, our hands locked by the time we climbed the stairs to her brownstone.

“Do you want to come up?” She paused at her door, keys in hand. “I don’t have the ingredients on hand to make your namesake, but I can whip up something…”

I caught her face in my palms, silencing her with a soft kiss.

“Are you sure?” She asked a little breathless by the time I’d pulled away.

“I don’t have a choice. If I come up there now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you, and our first time needs to be perfect, Sweet Cheeks.”

I pecked her on the lips one last time before shoving my hands in my pockets and double stepping down the stairs and down the sidewalk, I couldn’t turn around, not even for a glance, or I’d run right back there and crush her into my arms and cover her in my lips until morning.

Katie

“So, is this the night?”

“The night when Sawyer is trying the dessert I named after him?” I caught my sister’s eyes on the screen. She’d video called me five minutes before Sawyer was set to arrive for our tenth date in three weeks. “This is the night.”

My sister only shook her head. “No, no, no poor innocent thing you, I meant the night you lose the big V.”

I nearly choked on my tongue, the spoon in my hand dropping into the pot of bubbling soup. “Uhm, really? If I think about his lips anywhere near mine I’ll combust. You’re making my nerves worse!”

“Fine, just let me know what you think of this lingerie I bought for the wedding night–” she held up three threads of fabric hanging on a padded hanger.

“Hanging up now!” I sing-songed without looking, the sound of her maniacal cackle the last thing I heard before I hit end on the video call and the buzzer at the front door rang through my apartment.