Laurel

 

Dear KeepingItReal69,

 

You’re no longer ahead of me. Below you’ll find my latest poem.

 

Why Our Pie?

 

Why did you have to ruin pie?

The bites were always warm, tart and sugary.

Why did you have to ruin pie?

The moments were joyful, safe and only ours to share.

Why did you have to ruin pie?

The memories were priceless, revealing and revered.

I’ll forever hate you for scorching the memories and ruining pie.

 

                    Sincerely,

                      ElizabethBennetThe2nd

 

I hit send on my email and return to doing homework. Hearing the front door shut, I freeze and listen for Jason.

Footsteps … and I believe he just stopped at my door. For some reason, I hold my breath. I don’t want him to know I’m home, or maybe I do, and I’m hoping he’s going to come in and say something that smothers the awkwardness and shame I feel.

Instead, I hear his footsteps again, the bathroom door shut and the shower come on. Sighing, I pop my headphones in and turn up the volume.

Please let this loud song drown out the noise of the water running, which only reminds me of the gorgeous, naked man across the hall.

 

***

Rubbing my eyes, I snap my textbook shut and pick up my laptop. I’m getting sleepy and hungry, but before taking a break, I decide to check my email to see if I’ve heard back from Poetry Boy.

 

Dear ElizabethBennetThe2nd,

 

Wow. I hate to kill the good thing we finally had going between us, but I have to speak my mind. You must’ve missed the class lecture on sentimentality.

You’re making this poem about YOU, which can turn the reader off. Why didn’t you tell me about pie or about the person who made you bitter?

I imagine I would’ve enjoyed the descriptiveness of pie. Hell, just thinking about it leaves my mouth watering.

If you had described its amazing qualities, I might’ve ran out to buy one. Instead, you were once again vague, yet you managed to make it clearly known that you’re disgruntled over someone ruining your enjoyment of the hot, luscious dessert.

Is this about an old boyfriend? Best friend? Maybe mommy or daddy issues? If that’s the case, write about THAT with transparency rather than only giving me a taste of pie.

Refer to my email about the snake (same issue). I’m not meaning for this to sound cruel. I’m not insulting your ability here, only your behavior. Give me honesty next time.

 

                    Sincerely,

                      KeepingItReal69

 

No. He. Didn’t. What a jerk!

Slamming my laptop shut, I march out of my room and into the kitchen to splurge on my hidden pint of Death by Chocolate ice cream.

While KeepingItReal69 drools over the thoughts of pie, I’ll eat ice cream he can’t enjoy at the moment.

I’m being childish. I know it, but I’m going to wallow in the annoyance of how right he was for a good fifteen minutes.

Moving the bright blue reusable freezer packs I use to hide my ice cream, I remove the container, find a spoon and dig into the comforting treat.

I lean back against the counter and stew over Poetry Boy. Hot and luscious… He’s probably like the kid in that old movie American Pie who sticks his dick in the pie to masturbate.

Every word he said about my poem was true, but he still could’ve been nice about it. Sincerely my ass. He wouldn’t know how to be sincere if it was necessary to save his life.

“Hey…” Jason says. I whip my head up and swallow down the bite of ice cream in my mouth. Feeling tears land on my cheeks, I hurriedly wipe them away.

Furrowing his brow, he walks closer, and I admire him in a snug black t-shirt and grey sweats that shape his cock like a mold of it was made for them. I have to look away so as not to stare at it.

“Why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.”

“Does it have something to do with your dad?”

“No. I mean yes, but only in a roundabout way. Please, can you forget we had that mini-discussion last night?”

“How about I take your mind off it instead?” Smiling, he approaches me and swipes the silver spoon from my hand.

He takes a bite of ice cream while I stare at his handsome face. As he licks his lips, I suck in a breath.

His enticing mouth...

The coolness from the chocolate mixed with the heat of his breath–I want to taste it.

I’m finding I want to taste all of Jason. Every. Single. Speck.

“I assume you eat ice cream when you’re upset.”

I yank the spoon back, aggravated that he’s so fucking hot. “Yes, and I like to be left alone when I’m upset, too.”

He grazes the back of his hand down my cheek.

“That’s a lie. You only think you deserve to be alone. You want me here right now, touching you, and like me, you’ve been thinking about last night all damn day.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re roommates, and I’m not jeopardizing that.”

He frowns. “It seems moving in here has backfired on me. If we weren’t living together and I asked you out, would you have accepted?”

“I doubt it. I told you I don’t have casual sex, and I also don’t date pre-med students.”

“I don’t understand the pre-med part, but I didn’t say anything about sex. I said a date.”

I cock my head to the side. “Are you saying you go on dates and don’t expect sex during or by the end of them?”

He smiles, and the corners of his mouth stretch out toward his defined jaw.

“Normally, I do, but with you, no. At least I wouldn’t expect it for a while.”

“Why?”

“You’re different, and I already know you’d be worth the wait.”

“You hardly know me.”

Leaning closer, he pins me with an intense look … one backed with enough energy to heat my entire body.

“I know you better than you think I do. It’s the real me you don’t know, and I want to change that. I want to redeem myself after the incident in the living room last weekend.”

“You must have a pretty guilty conscience over that incident.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t, but I seem to care what you think about me.”

I shake my head. “My opinion shouldn’t matter to you.”

“It does.”

Lifting my arm, I drop it to my side in frustration.

“Why?”

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“If I had a clue where you were going with this, I wouldn’t need to.”

Taking the ice cream and spoon from me, he sets them on the counter I’m still leaning against. He slides his cool hand along the side of my neck and around the nape of it where he squeezes gently.

Swallowing, I struggle to inhale a strangled breath.

“When I asked to move in here, I wasn’t exactly truthful when I said I had no desire to get with you or that you weren’t my type. The truth is … I want to date you.”

“I don’t know why. I doubt I’m anything like the girls you usually hook up with.”

“Exactly, and I’m no longer looking for hookups.”

“Define your definition of date?”

“I want you to spend time with me and only me.”

I lift my eyebrows. “I think that’s called exclusivity.”

“That’s what I had in mind.”

I scoff, “Right. Am I supposed to believe you’re going to date only me? I mean, what changed in a week?”

“Just say yes.”

“No.”

“Why not?” By the grip on my neck, he pulls me closer and leans his forehead against mine. His lips are so close, he’s far into my personal space, and I gasp to find oxygen. “Answer me. Why not?”

“I told you. I don’t date future physicians, and honestly, I think you’d become bored with me.”

“I wouldn’t. Come on. What do you have to lose?”

“Ultimately, a roof over my head.”

“I won’t let that happen. Give me a chance.” He presses his lips against mine, and as soon as he removes them, I whimper from how desperately I want to taste his mouth.

“You feel the heat between us. Say yes, Laurel. Let me prove that my chosen profession is irrelevant. Give me a chance to show you that I only desire you.”

“It’s too soon.” Grabbing his waist, I push him back. “I’ll agree to hang out with you, but I’m not dating you since I don’t think that’s what you really want. I refuse to be your sexual conquest, so you’ll have to prove to me over time that it’s not all you’re after.”

He smiles. “I guess that’s a start.” Moving back in my space again, he cradles my cheeks, and I realize I’m still holding his waist. “But my smarts and charm are going to win you over. Oh, and my mouth and hands, too.”

He kisses me again, and I can’t resist letting his tongue inside. He explores my mouth, and I pull him closer to me, needing more of him.

He shoves his pelvis forward and groans from a place deep in his chest, the hum and sounds of lust causing an ache between my legs.

Shit, this kiss is intoxicating. Reaching behind me, he pulls out my ponytail holder and snakes his fingers through my hair. He groans again–I moan, and god, how will I ever put the brakes on?

Like he’s licking icing off a cupcake, he savors my mouth one stroke at a time. His hands bury between my mane of curls, and it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for years. I can’t help but wonder if he kisses all women this passionately.

I slide my hands along his back, and it only encourages him to press his body harder against mine. His rigid cock tells me where this is going, and we’re headed there fast.

Softening our kiss, I bring my hands back to his waist. He takes the hint, and inhaling a slow breath, he nips at my lower lip and skims his wet mouth along my cheek … and down my neck.

I push him back. “Stop. This is more than hanging out.”

Releasing me completely, he grips the counter at each side of me and whispers in my ear, “You have no idea how desirable you are, and fuck, you’re a good kisser.”

“Ditto, and that’s the reason we need to rein it in. How about dinner? I want to cook for you.”

He steps back and stares into my eyes. The intensity in his finally fades, and he smiles while adjusting his cock in his sweats.

“If that’s all it takes for a home-cooked meal, I’ll be kissing you every day.”

“You might want to hold back the enthusiasm until you’ve tried my cooking. Do you have a few bucks to go buy two chicken breasts?” I ask as I move around him and stroll over to the cabinet where I keep canned goods.

Opening it, I eye the cheap cans of vegetables and the Bisquick mix. I check the refrigerator next to be sure we have milk.

“I’m an expert when it comes to breasts.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I’ll grab them. Is there anything else you need from the store?”

“Buy two potatoes, too. I’m making you a chicken pot pie. It’s the only damn pie I’ll eat since all the other kinds are for assholes.”

Jason doesn’t reply, and I’m relieved since I said that remark on impulse. I don’t want to get into a discussion about how my peer review partner schooled me rudely on poetry.

I shut the refrigerator and turn around? Jason’s rubbing the back of his neck as he stares off.

“Are you sure you don’t mind going?”

Looking back at me, he gives a faint smile, but it’s not one of his flirty ones.

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Cool. I’ll get the dough ready. I didn’t even ask. Do you like chicken-pot pie?”

“Yeah, I do. My mom makes it.”

“Well, this one is being made by cheap ingredients, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m sure it will be great. I’ll be back.” He disappears from the room, and something feels off. He was different after I offered to cook. God, maybe that seemed too much like playing house.

Here I told him we should rein it in, and then I said I wanted to cook for him. It’s not like I was going to throw frozen burritos into the microwave. No, I offered to cook him a meal like his momma would make or a wife.

Shit, I have to fix this now.

Sitting at the round kitchen table, I stare at the clock, and as soon as ten minutes have passed, I type a text to Jason.

Me: Sorry, but I think the ice cream’s making me sick to my stomach. I really need to lie down. Can you take a rain check on dinner?

Jason: Sure. Feel better…

He accepted that easy enough, which tells me I was probably right about cooking him dinner. I hope that doesn’t mean I was right about his intentions, too. That he’s only after one thing.

Imagining our superb kiss, I touch my lips. It was explosive and left me only wanting more. He’s dangerous to my heart, and I need to remember that.