Page 24 of Erotic Temptations 2

Because I apparently enjoyed indecision, I changed jeans then checked myself in the mirror for the last time, mostly to make sure I didn’t look like a deranged squirrel in human drag. The jeans were passably hot. The pink polo wasn’t exactly screaming “come fuck me,” but it didn’t make me look like I lived in a bingo hall, either.

A step up.

My hair had taken a solid ten minutes to de-flour, but I’d wrestled it into something presentable. My brain still couldn’t decide if I looked more like “fresh twink off the bakery line” or “tired event planner at a cousin’s wedding.”

Either way, it would have to do.

Cookies. I grabbed the plate, which I’d rearranged four times until Mabel’s ginger snaps looked properly intimidating and Estell’s spritz stars weren’t plotting a coup against the brownies.

This was not a date. Not even a coffee hookup. It was neighborly.

Casual. Just two guys and some sugar.

Totally not a date.

So I tried hard not to think about the fact that I’d shaved, applied lotion to every inch of skin, and checked my teeth for sprinkles.

Still not a date.

The hallway outside my apartment was dead quiet, except for the humming of discontented lighting, and I got a faint whiff of someone’s fried chicken. I walked with an exaggerated casualness, footsteps echoing in the corridor, literally passing the elevator before remembering Kane said he was on the fourth floor.

With an eyeroll, I reversed course.

Buttons were smudged with a year’s worth of fingerprints. I hit the “up” button, then tapped my foot while the elevator crawled up from the lobby.

God forbid it ever be waiting on my floor. People designed these buildings for punishment. Great, now I sounded like Estell.

Stepping in when the door slid open, I balanced the plate on my palm, trying to act natural. Each mirrored panel showed my dumb, hopeful face lit up with anticipation I was trying to suppress.

If this didn’t work out, I still had the girls. They really were great friends, the best. One breakup a year ago had been pretty bad. It was Mabel, Estell, and Sophia who’d helped me through it.

Mabel constantly made me soup, like I had a cold instead of heartbreak.

Three knitted sweaters were tucked in the back of my closet, because Sophia had insisted I learn to knit away my pain. What I’d knitted would’ve frightened small children.

Estell just kept asking for his address. I wasn’t sure if I was touched that she’d just wanted to talk to him or terrified because she’d just wanted to “talk” to him.

Never found out which one.

I arrived at four, then made the short shuffle to 4C. His damned door had a wreath with a plaid ribbon, tiny pine cones,even a little Santa that might’ve been glaring at me. I made a note to find out if his grandmother sent it or if Kane had bought it himself.

If it was the latter, I was in so much trouble.

After a deep breath, I raised my hand to knock.

Dropped it.

Went for it again.

Drew back again.

“You can totally do this,” I said under my breath, even as butterflies were unionizing in my belly. “Just raise your hand and knock.”

Cradling the plate in one hand, I squared my shoulders and rapped my knuckles three times. This was it. No turning back. Unless he didn’t answer. Then I could run away and never show my face again.

This is why you don’t have a dating life.The girls didn’t count.

Except Kane swung the door open fast enough to jerk me from my spiral. Saliva pooled in my mouth. Sweet rainbow hell.