Bodie

Penny had left that night with a long goodbye kiss and a smile full of promise, and since we’d seen each other twice in twenty-four hours, I figured I’d hear from her soon.

Wrong.

The first day hadn’t been so bad although I ended up in the gym twice to try to get my mind off of her. The second day, I’d tried to satiate my thoughts by watching her show. I’d avoided it because I thought it might be creepy, and when I’d turned it on, it was with the intention of watching a single episode. Eight hours later, I’d made it almost through the season and had Cheetos dust all over my T-shirt. And I’d felt a zillion times worse. I’d even picked up my phone to text her enough times that I threw the fucking thing in my nightstand drawer so I’d stop thinking about it. That had lasted a solid hour before I’d caved and retrieved it and commenced staring.

I was on day three, and I wasn’t happy about it.

Three days. Three agonizing days of pounding away at my keyboard instead of her ass. Three days without a single sexual pun that hadn’t come from my brother. Three nights of my hand on my jock, thinking about her spread eagle on my counter. Three long days without my hands in places they tingled at the thought of. Places where my tongue should be, like deep in her—

“Dude, did you hear me?”

I turned to Jude, frowning. “Huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so fucking sad. Just text her.”

I scowled. “Don’t you think I would if I could?”

“What’s the matter? Fingers broken? Didn’t pay your phone bill?”

“Fuck you, Jude.”

“You act like she’s some delicate fucking flower.”

My eyes narrowed. “She’s more delicate than you think. I can’t just text her, man. That’s not how this works.”

He shook his head. “Your big plan to woo Penny is to not talk to her? It’s to let her ghost you?”

“She hasn’t ghosted me, asshole.”

“Maybe she has, dickwad. You haven’t heard anything in three days and have been walking around here like a goddamn rottweiler who had his bone stolen.”

My scowl deepened.

“Get it? Your bone?”

“I hate you,” I muttered as I turned back to my screen.

“Liar. You know I’m right.”

I turned in my chair to face him again. “No, you’re fucking not. My big plan is to leave the ball in her court so I don’t come off as needy. The last thing a chick who wants no strings needs is a guy up her ass.”

“Maybe she does need a guy up her ass,” he joked with his eyebrows waggling.

“Fucking cretin.”

“I’m just saying, what rule states you can’t even text her after three days?”

“Oh my God,” I groaned with a roll of my eyes. “All of them, dipshit. You had a girlfriend way too long.”

“And you might have cocked it all up by acting like you’re not interested.”

I huffed. “I’ve gotta play this smart, Jude. She’s going to come back around. I know it.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll figure it out.” My hope sank like the Titanic, slowly and with a chill. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right. There was no way of knowing, not until she texted me. I checked my phone, just like I had about four billion times in the last three days.

Nothing.

I ran a hand through my hair.

Jude watched me. “You should take a walk. Get out of the apartment. We’ve been cooped up here for three days, working and binge-watching TV, and I think you need some vitamin D, since you’re not giving any.”

I made a face. “Hilarious, jackhole. And I would have already seen her show if you’d fucking told me about it when you found out.”

“I did tell you, bro.”

“Dude, there’s no way I would forget you telling me that Penny was on TV. Literally no fucking way.”

“Well, there’s no fucking way I wouldn’t have told you because I knew you’d had a boner for her for a decade.”

I chuffed, opening my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

“I’m serious. Why don’t you get us ice cream? It’s, like, a thousand degrees out, and you’re miserable. No one can be miserable after ice cream. It’s scientifically impossible.”

I sighed and stood, sticking a finger in his face. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep your fucking mouth shut about Penny. It’s hard enough without your nagging.”

“Yeah, I bet it is.”

He tried to flick me in the nuts, but I jumped back and countered with a solid slap upside the back of his head.

“Get me some cherry chunk,” he called after me.

I flipped him off over my shoulder as I walked to the door, opened it, and slammed it behind me.

Frustrated was a good word to use — sexually, emotionally, generally. I’d had a little taste of something that had consumed me like wildfire, and now that I was deprived of it, I felt wild. Feral. Like I’d crawl out of my skin if I couldn’t see her, smell her, touch her.

Even the thought of touching her had my johnson reacting.

Maddening, that was what it was.

I stepped out into the blazing summer afternoon, and my mood spoiled like rotten milk in the heat. I mean, why hadn’t she called? We’d spent an hour in the shower the last time I saw her and another hour in my room, in my bed, touching, talking, kissing. She’d made me feel so good, and I thought the feeling was mutual.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was playing me.

Maybe I was just a fuck boy, someone whose body she could use.

The thought made me feel cheap. Cheaper still when I wondered how many guys out there had felt just like I did.

Maybe Jude was right and I needed a new plan. At what point should I stop waiting? At what point should I take action, and what could I do? Because one thing was perfectly clear.

I wanted to be with Penny in any context she would let me have her. But to be with her, I had to play by her rules even if I bent them to get my way. I wanted to win, and I wanted to win her.

There wasn’t much I could do besides texting, not without crossing the line. Showing up at her work would definitely be crossing the line. I could send her flowers at the tattoo parlor, but that would be way too big, too serious. I imagined her getting flowers from me and her eyes bugging out like I was psycho. Or worse — I imagined her laughing.

No. Definitely no flowers.

I huffed, running my fingers through my hair again, annoyed with myself for being so annoying. But I felt like an addict with no dealer, cracked out and irrational and driven to the point of desperation.

At that thought, I took a breath and told myself to ease up. The plan was to wait, so I’d wait.

She’d come around. My hope glimmered, revived by the thought. And when she did, I’d take advantage of every single second I had with her.

---

Penny

The bell over the shop’s door rang, and Ramona laughed.

“Penny, delivery.”

I glanced up from my desk in my booth to find a delivery guy looking around the room with a vase of flowers in his hand.

My heart shot into my throat.

Bodie!

Yeah, his name had an exclamation point in my head because I hadn’t stopped thinking about him for three full days and nights, and I was mildly — extremely — annoyed that he hadn’t texted me. Of course, I hadn’t texted him either.

The third date loomed, and I wanted to stave it off for as long as possible. I mean, until I couldn’t even stand it anymore. I was probably almost there because the thought of those flowers being from him made my vagina do stuff. Squeezy, clenchy stuff.

I hopped out of my seat and bounded to the delivery guy. “Are those for me?” I asked, grinning like a goddamn fool.

“If you’re Penny, yes, they are.”

I squealed and bounced on the balls of my feet. Every one of my co-workers watched me like I’d been possessed.

I had been. By Bodie’s dick and math jokes.

The delivery guy had me sign his little doohickey and handed me the flowers, which I promptly skipped over to the desk with, and Ramona and Veronica appeared by my side, eyeballing me.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever seen you excited about getting flowers,” Ramona said incredulously.

Veronica watched me like my body had been snatched by an alien.

“They have to be from Bodie,” I said, digging through the rose blooms for a card. “He hasn’t even texted.”

“We know. You’ve only mentioned it every hour, on the hour, for three days.” Ramona patted my arm.

I found the card and plucked it out of the bouquet with an, Aha!, opening it with frantic fingers.

My stomach fell into my shoes with my smile.

“To Penny. Miss you. Consider my offer. Love, Brad,” I read aloud.

Veronica groaned. “Ugh, fuck you, Brad!”

I read it again, sure there was some mistake. “Brad? I haven’t even fucking seen that shithead in weeks, not since he asked me to move in with him. The curse of date three.” I picked up the bouquet by the vase and dropped it in the tall trash can behind the desk.

Ramona eyed them, torn. “Do you have any idea how expensive those are?”

I pointed at her. “Don’t you touch those. Those flowers are tainted by freaknut Brad and his inability to take a hint. Those flowers are from the wrong guy.”

I was whining, and I didn’t even care. I was way too butthurt to care.

“It’s not fair,” I said, bobbling a little.

Joel frowned at me from his station in the front of the shop before glancing at Veronica. “What’s the matter with her?”

She took my shoulders gently, angling me to him as I pouted. “Bodie hasn’t called her.”

“New fuckbuddy?” he asked.

“Doesn’t he like me?” I asked, my voice squeaky.

“I’m sure he does, honey,” Veronica cajoled. “Maybe you should just text him. You obviously want to see him again.”

I groaned. “I know, but it’s date three! And instead of turning into a pumpkin, he’s gonna turn into Brad.” I tossed a hand at the trashcan as if those flowers explained everything.

Joel sighed. “You like the guy, right?”

I nodded.

“Then fucking text him, you weirdo.”

“But what if—”

“Who cares? You want to see him, so see him. If it falls apart, deal with it.”

I was still pouting. “Why do you make everything seem so simple?”

“Because it is.” He rested his meaty, tattooed forearms on his knees and leaned toward me. “Listen, your afternoon job canceled, right?”

“Yeah,” I answered begrudgingly.

“It’s too hot in here, and your booth is the hottest in the shop. Go cool off. Cold shower. Ice cream. Something.”

“But what about the walk-ins?”

“Max is here for walk-ins. You just get outta here.” He jabbed a finger at the door with authority.

I sighed. “Fine. But only because you said ice cream, and that’s my weakness.” I could already taste the cold salted caramel on my tongue. This also made me a little sad — it reminded me of Bodie.

Who even ARE you right now?

I walked back over to my station to grab my bag, stopping by Veronica’s station next to Ramona, who leaned on the short wall.

“Just text him, Pen,” Ramona said. “You’ll feel better.”

I nibbled my bottom lip. “Even if he gets clingy? Even if he bugs out?”

She laughed and kissed me on the cheek on my way out. “Better him than you.”

I sighed and headed into the sweltering sun, slipping on my sunglasses.

My problem was this: I was obsessing.

I was so predictable, I could have been a fucking atomic clock. I’d always been this way, and it was one of the many reasons why I didn’t date. I didn’t like how I felt, which reaffirmed that the three-date rule was just as much for myself as it was for them. And here I was, after only two dates, already all itchy over Bodie. He was just so dreamy and funny and smart, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

All of this was dangerous.

Of course, it was entirely possible that I’d gotten weird simply because I was holding out. Maybe if I just ripped off the Band-Aid and saw him again, it would take care of itself. Once he got all gooey on me, I’d probably lose interest anyway.

That placating and naive thought put a little spring in my Chucks and a smile on my lips.

We could have our last hurrah and let the chips fall where they may. Let fate take its course. Which, in my experience, meant I’d be absolutely over him and ready for whatever was next.

My heart folded in on itself at the fleeting thought that it might be me who’d be gooey over him. But I waved my thoughts away like bumblebees after the honey pot and resolved to text him when I got home.

But when I pulled open the door of the ice cream parlor, I stopped dead in my tracks as a smile spread across my face like peanut butter on toast.

I didn’t have to text him after all because he was standing right in front of me.

His broad back was to me as he waited in line, peering into the cooler at the flavors on display.

I swear to God, my heart did a roundoff back handspring and stuck the landing as I walked up to him.

“If I went binary, you’d be the one for me,” I said as I brushed against his arm, my knuckles grazing his.

He whipped his head around, blue eyes bright. And when they connected with mine, his smile could have lit up midnight.

He let out a laugh. “That was a good one. I didn’t know you spoke nerd.”

I shrugged, smiling. “I don’t. I speak Google.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Getting ice cream. Isn’t it obvious?”

Another laugh as the attendant asked him what he wanted.

Bodie turned to me. “Want to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

“Know what you want?”

“A scoop of salted caramel in a waffle cone, please.”

The attendant nodded and looked to Bodie.

“Mint chocolate, one scoop in a waffle cone too. Thanks.”

We stepped over to the register, and Bodie pulled out his wallet to pay.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, the question tight from hiding another — Why haven’t I heard from you?

But I smiled. He was still interested, and that right there was proof.

“I’ve been good, just working a lot. You?”

“Same. Jude kicked me out since I hadn’t seen daylight in days. It’s too hot to go outside without the promise of the ocean or ice cream.”

We were handed our ice cream cones and turned to find the inside of the shop packed.

I frowned. “Way too hot, but outside we go.”

He followed me to a table for two on the patio, and we took seats across from each other.

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I swear he’d gotten hotter in three days — his eyes were bluer, his hair blonder, his smile brighter as he grinned right back and put on his sunglasses.

Either that or my imagination was a sad, sad substitute for the real thing.

“Highway to Hell” came on the overhead speakers as I took a long lick of my ice cream and moaned.

Pretty sure Bodie was staring at my mouth from behind his shades.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” I started, sticking out my tongue to run my ice cream across it.

He wet his lips and smirked. “Me too.”

When he licked his ice cream and flicked his tongue at the top, I felt warm all over, and it had nothing to do with the ninety-five degree weather.

I crossed my legs, my mouth undeterred as I licked that ice cream like my future depended on it.

“It was so hard not to text you.” I closed my lips over the top of my scoop.

“How hard?” he teased me back.

I just kept watching that creamy ice cream on his tongue, squeezing my thighs together like a goddamn vise.

“It just kept getting harder and harder with no hope of release. Cruel really.”

“So why didn’t you text me?”

I shrugged, playing coy. “Didn’t want you to think I was easy.”

We both laughed for a minute.

“So how much did you think of me?” I asked innocently, fondling my cone.

“Oh, only about every minute of every day.” His feet sandwiched my foot on the ground and squeezed, shifting his sneakers up and down in slow, opposite strokes, just an inch or two’s distance.

Somehow, it drove me completely insane.

“You?” he asked.

“A time or two. Once when I was in the shower.”

“Mmm,” he hummed with his cone in his mouth.

“Another time when I was lying in bed, wishing you’d texted me. I thought about you a lot that night. Three times. Every time, I would think I’d gotten you out of my head and whoops — you’d pop up again.”

“Well, I can’t help popping up. Not when I remember you eat ice cream like that.”

I smiled and dragged my tongue around the diameter of the scoop.

“All that thinking and no doing,” he said. “I really feel like we should be doing a whole lot more than we have the last couple of days.”

I nodded. “Why didn’t you text me?” I tried to keep the uncertainty out of my voice.

If he’d heard it, he didn’t react.

He shrugged and echoed my words, “Didn’t want you to think I was easy.”

I laughed. “Maybe I like easy.”

“Well then, you’re in luck. Because when it comes to you, I’m so easy.”

Bodie’s elbows were on the table and so were mine, the two of us leaning toward each other.

“What do you say we get out of here?” he asked.

And I smiled back. “I thought you’d never fucking ask.”