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I entered the lobby of Bryants & Walker and passed Haley at the reception. I lifted the box in my hands to show her. “I brought treasures, Hay.”
“Thank you, Ben.” No matter how many years have passed, she always sounded shy and sweet.
I placed everything on the table at our kitchen-turned-breaking-room-turned-escape-area when we needed to change the scenery. When I opened the box, the amazing smell hit me full force again, and I couldn’t wait to dig in.
Not just on the pastries.
I stretched my hand to pick up my cup, then I noticed a small piece of paper under it, seemingly a scribbled note. When I unfolded it, my heart started beating faster. Right underForestwas what could only be her phone number.
I stared at the note, grinning like a fool. For the first time, I didn’t know what to say to a woman. I just felt this pressing urge to run after her.
I heard the guys coming and slipped the note into my pocket, hiding my smile behind my cup of coffee.
Who would’ve thought a case of goodies also held opportunities?
I was most certainly losing my mind. When did I start handing my phone number to strangers? And when did I become obsessed with my phone to check if said strangers had sent me something?
To be fair, it’d been only a couple of hours. Yet I was frustrated he hadn’t tried to contact me. Hadn’t he seen my note? Mortification embraced me when I considered maybe someone else had found it. I didn’t know why, but thinking about that Mia girl—his so-called co-worker andbest friend—made me feel uneasy.
The right word was “jealous.” Which was stupid, since I didn’t know either of them.
I was lost in my thoughts as I prepared my baking for the next day when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I tried to suppress the teenage girl inside of me and completed my task before picking it up—praying it was him, not some telemarketing person.
Unknown:are you as sweet as everything you bake?
My heartbeat was so fast, I could hear it thumping in my ear.
Me: who is it?
Unknown: you wound me, Forest.
Me: I still don’t know who you are, I guess you’ll continue to be “Unknown” on my contact list.
Unknown: I introduce myself as Benjamin Walker. My friends call me Ben. You can refer to me as the man who’ll change your life.
Me: Cocky much?
Sexy Bee: I think you should at least try this theory.
Me: I don’t know if that’s smart. Let alone wise.
Sexy Bee: is it weird of me to be proud of you for being careful? I need you to throw caution to the wind for me, but I feel better knowing you’re playing it safe.
Me: so you won’t try to corrupt me?
Sexy Bee: oh no, is that what you understood from what I said? Don’t let me fool you, I’ll definitely corrupt you.
Me: is that a threat?
Sexy Bee: it’s a promise. Now tell me about you. What you’re doing?
That threw me a little. I thought he’d initiate some sexting—which would be creepy at this early stage—but he changed the route to ask me mundane things.
We texted for hours. Even the prospect of staying late to prepare the baking for the next morning didn’t faze me, nor did it erase the smile on my face.
The conversation flowed easily. Even though he still explored his seductive streak, he wasn’t obnoxious about it. We flirted. We made jokes. We talked about nothing important, yet that felt big. Like something fundamental was shifting. For me. For my life.
I should be scared about it. But a bigger part of me wanted to jump head first into whatever this was.
