Read Arms Wide Open: a Novella for Free Online Page B

over. She takes
a deep breath and starts to rinse off her hands. “So...what brings you in
here?”
    “A hipster guy with a pre-pubescent
beard, lisp, a man purse, and attitude glasses thinking he’s the next Don Juan
DeMarco. He tried to hold my hand, and my scone got squashed, taking one for
the team. I’m just washing off the mess. You?”
    She laughs. “A guy with the nastiest
looking eyeball I have ever seen spilled some coffee on the table. I didn’t get
any on me but I didn’t tell him that. I just wanted an excuse to hide for a
bit.”
    “Oh, yes. Kevin.” I laugh. “He was my
first date tonight. He’s harmless, I think...just completely whackadoodle. Are
you a his new friend, too? Has he hinted that you just might be the one yet?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Uh, yeah. My
sister dragged me here and is finding seriously fab guys while I keep getting
the weirdos.”
    “Amen, girl. Good luck.” I grab a few
paper towels to dry my hands. Crumpling them into a ball, I toss the wad into
the trash can and back up toward the door. “You going out there again?”
    She shakes her head with pursed lips.
“No. My hands are way too dirty for that. Good luck with your...uh...”
    “My little Casanova wannabe,” I finish
as I bump the bathroom door open with my booty and gird my loins for the rest
of the round. I don’t actually know what that means, but it sounds like
suffering is involved in what happens next, and that sounds right to me. Maybe
I can ponder the origins of such an odd saying to pass the time.
    When I return, Lennon has replaced my
scone and placed a cup at my seat. I grasp the steaming mug covered with
whipped cream and take a sip, surprised when I taste steamed milk with a hint
of nutmeg and cinnamon. “This is thoughtful. Thank you.”
    “I thought you might like this,” he
murmurs, looking deep into my eyes. Oh no...I think I should have stayed in the
bathroom. He looks awfully amorous. I sit down and lean forward, with my elbows
on the table to grasp my mug with both hands. I set it down and realize my
mistake a split second later. He lunges forward, grabs my hand, and pulls me
close as he leans in. Using his free hand, he breaks off the corner of the
pastry and bites into it, making moaning noises as he does.
    May I please gouge out my eardrums? I
close my eyes, pinch my lips, and turn away. I can’t even watch it and my ears
want to bleed at the bizarre noises he’s making to demonstrate how delicious it
is.
    “This is so amazing,” he whispers
gruffly. “You need to try this.”
    I shake my head vigorously. “No, really,
I’m good. You enjoy it.” I open my eyes to look at him, trying to convey how
much I really don’t need to share the scone. Tactical error. He lifts another
bite of scone to my lips and shoves it in while I’m protesting. I frown and try
to swallow, and as I do he pulls his fingers back and licks them with that same
disturbing moan of pleasure.
    I yank my hand back and take my mug
again, holding it close to my lips and blowing on it. If he tries that again
he’ll spill scalding liquid on me, and I hope he’s smart enough to know
spilling hot milk on his date won’t earn him any points later. I pull my elbows
close and hunch my shoulders, hoping my time is almost up.
    “Was that scone everything you hoped it
would be?” He raises his eyebrows and puckers his lips, throwing me his best
attempt at bedroom eyes.
    “I couldn’t even begin to describe
that,” I say honestly. I close my eyes and shake my head in disgust. “Thanks again
for the steamer, Lennon. I appreciate it, but—”
    “Did you know cinnamon oil has been used
for centuries in ancient mating rituals?” He leans forward, head down again,
his eyes shooting what he probably thinks are love darts at me. “I took a class
on it for my major. So fascinating! Cinnamon was used in some cultures as part
of fertility rituals. The male would take just a drop of oil and dab it on
his—”
    The bell