Maya
Spring break. Most eighteen-year-olds are off with their friends, sunning themselves on the beach, partying their hearts out while drinking recklessly. But not this one. This one was scouring the shelves at Trader Joes for a list of essential items that my spoiled half-siblings ‘needed’ to get through the day. Organic-this, vegan-that. My stepmother insisted on eating ‘clean’ and regularly commented that she’d never understand why I was ‘so…round when she doesn’t allow junk in the house.’
Well, Chantelle, there’re these things called boobs and hips that I inherited from my mother.Rest her beautiful soul.Not that she’d ever understand what curves look like since she’s so straight up and down. I swear my father purposely chose a woman who was the exact opposite of Mom in an effort to forget his broken heart. Not that I think it helped because he struggles to even look at me. The older I get, the more like Mom I become. Red hair, pale skin, and curves. I was eight when she passed away. And what I remember most about her is her laughter and her hugs. Two things I’ve been missing for a good decade now.
God. I can’t wait to get out of here.
The moment I graduate high school is when my life will begin. I’ve worked hard and been accepted on a full scholarship to Cornell. It’s a dream come true, but it’s not a done deal just yet. I still have my finals to complete, but once I ace them, I’ll be packing up and heading off to Ithaca, New York, with California in my rear-view mirror. I can’t wait.
With my cart full of Chantelle’s grocery list, I head toward the cashier but pause when I spot a toffee apple display. The red and green candied apples make my mouth water, remembering the taste of my childhood when Mom would take me to the fair and let me eat as much as I wanted as long as I was careful not to give myself a stomachache. But I always did. Just like I have one now from remembering good times. Chantelle would lose her mind if she knew I bought such a sugary treat, but I pop one in the cart anyway, telling myself that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Brody
Iwatch her drift around the store, list in hand, as she carefully selects each item and places it in her cart. Every time she leans forward, her flower-covered dress rides up a little, and I get a peek of creamy round thighs, and the shadow of a bubble butt that has me thinking about a hunger that doesn’t involve food.Down boy. We’re in public.
I’m transfixed by her hair, a deep auburn color that falls in a mass of curls and bounces about her shoulders when she walks. And I’m obsessed by breasts, the perfect size to balance out her ass. She has curves to die for, and I’m smitten, totally in awe—possibly in love—with a girl I spotted in the supermarket.
My friends would have my balls if they heard me say that out loud.
Selecting a handful of goods, I line up behind her at the cashier. She smells like honey, and my dick gets excited while I wonder if she tastes like honey too.
“That’ll be seventy-two fifty,” the operator says after ringing up her items. They were all health food products, and I’m hoping to god this gorgeous woman isn’t trying to diet away those delectable curves. Attempting to remove that gloriousness from her body would be an assault to the lord himself who blessed her with such attributes.
“Oh,” she says, and it’s the first time I’ve heard her voice. It’s a feast for my ears. “I only have seventy. Um…” She presses her pink, pouty lips together and reaches into her bag. “I’ll put this back then.” The toffee apple.Nooooo.It’s the one thing she bought that contains any calories. I can’t let her go without it.
“Can you add that to my tab?” I ask the cashier when my curvy goddess finishes her transaction and makes her way to the front of the store. I finish up fast, practically throwing my money down so I can grab my stuff and chase after my dream girl.
“Miss,” I call out, falling into step beside her as daylight hits her face and lights up her hair. “I think you left something behind.” I hold up the toffee apple as she stops walking and turns to look my way. Eye contact.
My heart does this backflip in my chest as my mouth curves into an uncontrollable grin. She’s even more amazing to look at than I first thought. Cute freckles and eyes that are both blue and hazel at the same time. “You are absolutely stunning,” I blurt, unable to keep the words in.
She laughs. “Did you steal that?”
I frown, my romantic gesture feeling a tad foolish now. “I bought it. For you.” I’m way out of practice with this courtship thing.
Her tongue sneaks out and wets her lips as she looks from the proffered treat to me. “My mother insisted that I never take candy from strangers.”
“Then how about you give me your name and number and we won’t be strangers at all?”
Another laugh. But this one is hearty and comes up from her belly, shaking her entire body as her head tips back along with it. “You have to be joking. Is there a prank camera here somewhere?” She looks around like she’s actually expecting to find a camera operator. “Did Josh Parker put you up to this?”
“Josh who?”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to repeat the question, but then her shoulders relax, and she shakes her head, smiling. “I should get going.”
“At least take the toffee apple. I’d hate to deprive a beautiful woman of her post shopping treat.”
Studying me for a moment, she lifts her hand and plucks the apple from my hand. I lift my index finger so it runs along her palm, and just like I anticipated, sparks fly up my arm. And judging by the way her eyes flare, the same thing happens to her.
“I’m Brody,” I say with a slight bow of my head.
“Maya,” she whispers, her expression taking on this shocked quality that tells me she’s never felt a connection like that before either.
“Can I walk you to your car, Maya?”
“Uh. Sure.” She licks her lips again, but this time she does it when she’s looking at me.
Maya
