I crack the seal, press the button on the can, open my mouth wide and shoot a small amount inside before swallowing. Then, I add a hefty glob to his slice and mine.
Dallas watches me with a strange expression as I hand him a plastic fork and nudge a piece towards him.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Do you always do a taste test of the cream first?”
I laugh, “Yeah, kind of a rule. Gotta break the seal in your mouth before you put it on the pie.” I snicker, realizing what I’ve just said. “I’d like to break another seal tonight, too.”
His eyes widen, crinkling slightly at the edges as he grins while my jaw drops open.
Oh… did I just say that out loud?
He leans toward me, his hand brushing across my thigh. "Paloma, there’s no way I’m going to be able to eat this pie without thinking about another type of cream in your mouth now. Especially with the way it’s gaping open like that." He taps my jaw gently, pressing it closed with his rough fingers. "I'm going to need you to tell me something you’ve done that’s super gross, or a story about your grandma for me to get that vision out of my mind.”
“Wh..what?” I stammer.
He sits back in his chair, his hand moving to my knee where he squeezes firmly, almost as a warning. “I’m a recently returned Marine trying to transition to civilian life who hasn’t had sex in well over a year. You can't talk about breaking seals, pie, and cream around me without my mind going straight into the gutter.”
My already slack jaw drops open wider. “I’m not understanding. You’ve been celibate for that long?”
He snorts, “When do you think I’d have time to date, let alonehave sex?” He scoops a spoonful of pumpkin pie into his mouth and closes his eyes briefly. “Damn. You were right, that is good.”
Meanwhile, I am still stuck on the wordscelibate, year, and cream in my mouth.
“I can’t believe that wasn’t the first thing you did when you got back. I would think you'd want to hook up with your girlfriend, or, you know, like a Tinder date or something?”
He snorts again, shoveling another forkful of the pie in his mouth. “You gotta have a girlfriend to hook up with them, and I’ve never been keen on the whole sleeping-around thing anyways. I figured I’d do it when the time felt right. Hasn’t felt right since moving to Lonestar Junction.”
Hasn't... felt right... since moving to Lonestar Junction...
I remain silent, not touching my pie as I watch him eat. Each scoop of the pie and cream melts into his mouth like foreplay. His strong Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow and groan while I feel the last shreds of my control slipping away. When he closes his eyes again, dark lashes framing his cheeks, I can feel the wetness pool between my thighs.
He’s so different from the boy I used to write to—way better, even. He also seems completely unaware of the effect he has on the women in this town.
I glance around the co-op, catching a few eyes of ladies looking at us huddled in the corner as they likely whisper about the newbig, handsome, single Marine who’s in town.
I’m jealous. It’s childish and ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I’ve always felt like I had a stake in him. As if he were mine even though we hadn’t met.
Dallas shifts the conversation again, completely oblivious to my inner thoughts and the fact that I haven’t touched my dessert. Meanwhile, he’s one scoop away from finishing his.
“Where’s your boyfriend at, anyways? Back in Los Angeles? Didhe stay home with his family for the holiday?” he asks between a mouthful of whipped cream, “Talking about him will definitely cool things down for me and help me get my mind off of you putting that cream in your mouth.”
I swallow thickly, ready to confess the drunken lie that I put in my last letter to him. It had been a stupid thing to write, but I'd been scrambling for closure, thinking that my heart was still stuck on a guy I’d never get the chance to meet. And a small piece of me hoped that the letter would find him and remind him of the friendship that we’d had and provoke him to be curious to seek me out.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He sets down his fork on the empty plate, his warm eyes shifting to mine. “I don't understand.”
My body straightens taller in the plastic chair, “I mean I’m not in love with someone. I lied when I wrote that letter to you. I was drunk and emotional, and I don’t know… mad that you’d never written back and just disappeared without even telling me how I could contact you. I lied because I was hurt and felt like I was never going to meet you. You were one of my closest friends and I guess I nursed a bit of a crush on you through our correspondence.”
My voice drops into a whisper, “There's no guy.”
He’s silent as he stares at me, scrutinizing every feature of my face, searching to see if what I’m saying is the truth. His gaze is so intense that I pinch my thighs together, feeling heat spread throughout my body. If my underwear wasn’t destroyed before, it is now. It would crush me if he didn't reciprocate the feelings that I have for him or thought that they were premature, but I feel like I’ve always known him. Iknowhim. And he’s one of the few people that know me.
“You’re telling me that after being stuck in an elevator with you, where you straddled my lap, then talking to you all night atthe bar, and now sitting here watching you down that whipped cream in a way that’s making it impossible not to imagine it’s my come all over you… you haven’t had a boyfriend this whole time?”
I smile and shake my head, relieved that it seems like he is just as sexually frustrated by this whole situation as I am. “Nope. No boyfriend. I thought, now that I know you live here, you might want to catch up… try to be friends again..."
