Today, I work the register. Calypso Café is one of those places where customers order at the counter and then take their food back to their seats. As far as food items go, we serve sandwiches, three soups of the day, and a multitude of gourmet pastries and coffees, which is what people really come here for.

Randy only stuck around long enough to become irritated by my interaction with Jeremy. I haven’t seen him since then. Four hours later, the lunch and after-work crowds thin out. My eyelids are heavy as I finish wiping down two tables. It’s been a long day. I’m up at five thirty every morning for a seven o’clock class. Lately, I’ve been staying up past midnight, studying and trying out new recipes. I’ve always been a pretty good baker, but I find cooking over the stove more challenging.

I stand tall and bend my back to stretch as I think about the tangy eggplant hash I made in my cooking-methods class. Chef Ballard said my vegetables were cooked perfectly but I might want to pull back on my creative spicing method. The class chuckled, and my heart sank. I do have a tendency to overdo it.

“Hey, Gina,” Pete, the second-shift baker, calls.

I send my tired gaze across the room. Pete is standing at the register in his white baker’s coat.

“Yeah?” I say with a yawn.

“Could you finish up for me? My daughter has a thing tonight.”

Just thinking about abandoning the part of my job where I’m washing tables, taking orders, and making fresh sandwiches on request wakes me up a little.

“Sure, but are you sure Randy’s okay with me helping out?” I only work in the kitchen on days when Randy isn’t here. When I made my famous pastries that are now on the menu, Randy was out for two weeks. The day after I helped in the kitchen and Pete let me experiment with some new recipes, Calypso Café’s Yelp page blew up with five-star reviews. Ever since then, Pete has been a believer in my talents in spite of Randy.

Pete throws his hands up. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him all day.”

“I think he’s gone,” Sarah says while still thumbing her cell phone from behind the register. “Go on, Gina. It’s dead in here.”

She looks up in time to see me flash her a thumbs-up and prance off to the kitchen. Pete doesn’t hang around for even a minute. He’s left instructions for me to make mint-chocolate muffins and lemon-poppy-seed muffins. It doesn’t take me long to whip up the batter and put the muffins in the oven.

“You’re still here?”

I snap my gaze toward the door. It’s Randy. “Pete asked me to take over. He has a thing tonight.” I pull the tie on my apron. “But I’m supposed to close tonight, so I’ll go out and count the register.”

He walks into the kitchen. “I’ve already done it. Sarah’s gone.”

I check my watch. I’ve been in the kitchen for three hours already. Randy puts on an apron and plastic cap. My eyes gravitate to his broad chest and perfect looks. My best friend, Naomi Sutters, always says he looks like Clark Kent, Superman’s alter ego. I would never admit it to Naomi, but I think he’s way cuter than that. If Randy were to move to Hollywood and become a movie star, he would create a look that’s all his own. All of his facial features are perfectly placed, and he has just the right amount of everything—cheekbones, chin, forehead, nose, and sexy bedroom eyes. I love watching his face whenever we have sex. If only he wasn’t an asshole 99.9 percent of the time.

I raise my arms up to stretch my back. “Well, I’m almost done here, so I’ll load the dishwasher.”

Randy opens a container of flour. “Could you stick around a little longer?”

I tilt my head curiously. “For what?”

“I want to make something for you.”

My heart thumps like racing hooves stomping the earth. That familiar feeling lingers in the air. This is how it always starts between us.

I narrow my eyes to search past the door. “Are we the only ones here?”

He’s measuring flour and then dropping it into the bowl of the electronic mixer. “Yep,” he says without looking at me.

I could choose to say that it will only take twenty minutes or so to clean the kitchen and then I have to go.

I let my instincts guide me, and I walk over to stand beside him. “What are you making?”

He glances at me with a half smile. “It’s a secret.”

“Why are you making secrets for me tonight?”

“Why not?”

“Because earlier in the break room, you weren’t that nice.”

He’s measuring a teaspoon of vanilla. I go to the rack and get the lemon extract. “Use a teaspoon of this too?”

“No.” He adds three eggs.

“Yes.” I pour the lemon extract into the batter.

Suddenly, Randy flips the mixer off and snatches off his plastic cap, and in a flash, I’m in his embrace.

“Why are you so goddamn difficult?”

I take a whiff of his deep breaths, which are crashing against my nostrils. My mind is spinning and discombobulated. Suddenly, Randy lifts me off my feet and sets me on the counter. His strong hand presses upward against my thigh. I shouldn’t. I won’t. My thoughts battle his intractable pull. My mouth falls open, and I breathe, hoping a fresh breath will clear my head and make me raise a hand and tell him to stop. But instead his mouth finds mine. We kiss, and now every last defense is gone.

My hands grip the lower part of his back and pull him closer. He puts space between us to undo my apron and pull my T-shirt over my head. Now that I’m nearly topless, Randy steps back to admire my tits in my bra. I’m glad I wore the flesh-colored lace one today. He blows a hard breath and then tugs the cup from over my breasts and sucks my right nipple deep into his warm, moist mouth, and then he does the same to my left nipple.

I tilt my head and moan. Damn, that feels so good.

“Fuck.” He increases the intensity of his biting, sucking, and licking.

I can feel the wetness pouring out of my pussy. The desire to repel him slips further away from my grasp.

I undo his pants, becoming the aggressor. Randy is thick, and it always feels so damn good when he slides inside me and thrusts. Now that he’s sprung free, he unzips and snatches my pants off and then my panties and tosses both articles on the counter beside us. His manly hands separate my thighs and then pull my hips up and closer to his cock. I suck warm air between my teeth and let my head fall back as I wait for him to plunge his manhood inside me.

“What have you done to me?” Randy says with his mouth against my ear.

I open my eyes. Randy’s cheek is against mine. My breathing is heavy as my gaze locks onto the industrial-sized mixing bowl against the wall on the opposite side of the room. It’s a steady reminder of where I am and what we’re doing. But why does my heart feel so full?

Randy kisses me indulgently on the cheeks. His tender lips make my insides flutter. The sweet yet manly scent of his skin. His touch. His warmth. My head is spinning. I close my eyes when his lips meet mine. I want to cry, but instead I moan. The deeper we kiss, the farther we journey into unfamiliar territory. He spreads my legs farther and then… I gasp.

He thrusts himself inside me. In and out he shifts, every inch of him stimulating my walls. It’s as if I’ve floated up to the ceiling and am looking down at myself making love. However, I’m staring right into his bedroom eyes. We’re holding each other tightly, each of us breathing heavily on the other’s face.

Randy moans and hugs me tighter, causing our eyes to break contact. I pitch my hips higher so he can journey deeper into me. He starts mumbling something indecipherable. But I’m also losing my marbles as sensations intensify in my pussy. Randy groans louder, and I hold him tighter as his body jerks and spasms.

“Sorry,” he whispers after kissing me down my cheek. “I don’t know what came over me.”

I open my mouth and then close it, afraid to acknowledge what I feel deep inside.

Randy gently pulls out of me. We never use a condom, and I swear if we don’t stop it, we’re going to end up with a Gina or Randy Junior.

I slide off the counter. “I’m going to have to clean that.” I look away from him, chuckling.

“Yeah” he murmurs, refusing to be my accomplice in making the moment lighter.

I swipe my panties off the counter and quickly put them on. I’ve never felt so naked.

“Well, um…” I say, picking up my pants and putting them on. “Good luck on the TV show.” My heart is beating out of control.

“Sure…”

We stare into each other’s eyes. He looks just as unsure as I feel. This side of the kitchen smells like the sex we just had, and I want to overdose on the scent. Randy is leaving. The need to cry about it hasn’t left me. It’s only gotten stronger.

“Take care, Gina.”

I swallow and look toward the mixing bowl. Apparently, he’s ready to abandon whatever he was making for me. I understand how he feels. At this moment, I need space to process what just happened.

Randy lifts a hand as though he wants to touch me but then drops it. “I have some paperwork to finish up in the office.”

“Okay.” My voice cracks.

“Oh, and about Jeremy. I can pay for the damage to his car. You don’t have to go out with him.”

“Huh?” I’m still disheveled.

“I don’t want you going out with Jeremy.”

“Why not?”

Randy studies me with a grimace.

“I mean, is he a predator or something?” I ask.

Finally, he gives a forceful sigh. “Fuck it. I just know he’s not your type.”

I want to say, What the hell do I care? I’m just paying off an easy debt. But since I don’t want to start an argument, I say, “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

After a moment, he turns his back on me and walks out, leaving me trying to figure out what just happened between us. It was more than mere sex. Was it love? It couldn’t have been love. I could never love Randy, and he could never love me. We’re oil and water. We’re the furthest of binaries, existing on two opposite ends of the sphere.