He silently thinks for a minute, his hand holding his rag still on the glass. “Maybe he means that you got to him. Like he was only going into it as just being what it was, slutty wedding sex, a one-time hook up, a sexy romp with a bridesmaid---”
“I wasn’t a bridesmaid.” I interject and his hand comes up to silence me.
“You know what I mean. He expected it to be a one and done deal but what he wasn’t expecting was you. Oh my God, you’re a game changer. He wants more than just slutty wedding sex.”
I was going through the motions of rolling my eyes but stopped. Is that what Reese meant? Did I affect him to the point of freak out? Is that even a good thing? No. There’s no way. I shake my head.
“I think you and Juls are still drunk from the wedding. That guy is way too hot for me. Yes, I managed to somehow seduce him after he had several drinks I’m sure, but in normal daily life where alcohol isn’t free flowing and I’m usually covered in pastry flour and icing, he is way the hell out of my league.” I finish off my muffin and toss the wrapper in the trash can. “Besides, he told me he hasn’t had a girlfriend since college, which I’m sure is by choice. Look at him.”
Joey walks around the counter, grabbing my hand and kisses the back of it. “Yeah, he does have that whole unattainable bachelor vibe going on. And I’m sure he gets a lot of ass, but right now, he wants your ass.” He arches his brow playfully. “For the record, I happen to like you covered in pastry flour. And you are just as hot as he is.”
I smile sweetly at him as he drops my hand and gets back to cleaning. My two closest friends are crazy, rightly out of their minds. And between the two of them, I’m sure my wedding to Reese would be planned within the next month.
**
I slept for shit that night. Images of Reese’s orgasmic face kept entering my dreams that I tried to be of anything but him. It was a useless act. No matter what thought entered my mind, whether it was searching my brain for what exactly was in a tart to the anniversary cake consultation I had Tuesday morning; his beautiful face would pop in uninvited. Tossing in my bed and now completely drenched in sweat, I sit up and glance at my alarm clock. 3:15a.m. Jesus, I have to be up in less than two hours for my run and haven’t slept a wink. I slam back on my pillow. This can’t happen. I cannot let some hook up affect me like this. I’m never going to get a good night’s sleep. You can forget about my morning runs with Joey and functioning properly in the shop. I’ll lose my business and everything I worked so hard for. No. Fuck this. Hoping out of bed, I throw myself into a freezing cold shower and jolt myself even more awake. Sleep is for the weak. There’s no way I’m getting any tonight so I might as well bake. After dressing, I grab my phone and descend the stairs two at a time.
I knew exactly what I was going to make. It’s what I always made when I couldn’t sleep or needed a distraction. My mocha cupcakes with espresso butter cream frosting. The perfect combination of caffeine and chocolate, both of which I could consume in massive quantities right now. I opened my tattered recipe book and thumbed through it until I stopped on the familiar handwriting. It was a recipe of my grandmother’s that she used to make when I was a little girl, stumbling clumsily around her kitchen as she baked all day long. She made them weekly and always let me help her, my big brown eyes watching her with complete awe as she cracked her eggs with one hand and never needed a measuring spoon because “a real cook will always trust her taste buds over anything else.” My mother hated when she would make this recipe with me because I would consume them in mass quantities and be on an insane sugar and caffeine high for hours. My crash would be swift and hard, usually resulting in me passing out in the middle of the living room floor. I always thought of my grandmother when I made these. She passed away ten years ago and it made me sad to think that she would never get to see her influence on me now. After pulling together all of my ingredients and starting the coffee maker, I create a group text message with Juls and Joey.
Me: Just so you are both aware, its 3:30a.m. and I am making my mocha cupcakes. Yes, you read that correctly and yes, it’s because I haven’t slept at all. Don’t bother asking me to go for a run Joey. That ship has sailed.
Once the coffee is brewed, I mix in the espresso powder and set it aside to cool while I whip up the remaining ingredients. The smell alone perks me up a bit and I wasn’t feeling like a complete pathetic sleep deprived loser anymore. This is what I knew. Baking. I was good at it and I could practically do it in my sleep. Which I guess right now was ironic considering my current zombie like state. My mind begins to drift as I whip the batter, watching the electric beaters mix the eggs and sugars. I wonder if Reese like’s mocha cupcakes? Or maybe he’s a cookie guy. Shit. I turn the mixer off and put my bowl onto the counter as I rub my eyes. Focus, Dylan. You could lose a f**king finger. I combine the egg mixture with my batter and whip it quickly before dividing the batter evenly into my cupcake liners. After I shove the trays into the oven, I get to work on the icing.
The icing is made of espresso powder, vanilla, butter, and powdered sugar. It’s ridiculously sweet and one of my favorites. I could live off of this stuff if I had to. Because really, is there anything better than icing? Sex with Reese, his lips, his hands touching me, his sounds...
“UGH!” I yell, slamming my hands down onto the cool counter. This is insane. What the f**k is wrong with me? I’ve never been this affected by a guy before. I was with Justin for two years and could go days without talking to or seeing him and not even miss the ass**le. Which I guess in hindsight should have been a dead giveaway. I mean, shouldn’t you want to see your significant other nonstop? But I didn’t, and that was at least a relationship. This, whatever it is that Reese and I are doing or were doing and I may be completely crazy to assume that we will continue doing it. This is not serious. And I need to get my shit together and stop acting like it is. I pull the cupcakes out of the oven and lay them on the counter to cool while I test the icing.