Page 72 of With a Cherry On Top

You sound so pretty when you come.

I try to shoo the thought away as she asks, “So, how are you feeling?”

She’s being polite or actually concerned after my performance a couple of weeks back. Whatever it is, the question forces me to stop and think.

How am I?

Since she’s been in my life—better. Hanging by a thread. Sexually frustrated. Split between obsessing over her and obsessing over how obsessed I am with her. Either way, she takes up so much space in my mind that most other thoughts have gone out the window.

Eventually, I settle on:

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Happy to see you. You?

She places a delicate hand over her chest. “Happy you’re here with me. I’m all alone at home.” She pinches the fabric of her top. “Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

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No. Let’s just talk.

A surprised laugh escapes her and she props her chin on her hand, eyes glinting with intrigue. “Sounds good. What do you want to talk about?”

Honestly? Her. I want to use this alter ego to ask her all the things I can’t ask her in real life. I want to hear her talk without worrying about how I’m looking at her, or what’s appropriate to say and what isn’t.

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Tell me about you. If you want.

“About me, huh?” She hums, tapping a manicured finger against her lips. “Let’s see. I play the cello, collect postcards, and love vanilla ice cream.”

I scratch the side of my head. Cello? Postcards? I mean...I guess it’s technically possible. I don’t know her well enough to say for sure those facts aren’t true. But they don’t feel like her.

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How many lies did you just tell?

Her eyes widen in mock innocence before she throws her head back. “Two.”

Unbelievable.

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If I guess the true one, will you answer a question? For real?

Her lips curl as if she likes the challenge. “You got it.”

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Vanilla ice cream.

A pause. Then her mouth parts before she bursts into laughter, her whole body shaking with it. “Damn, you’re good.” She waves me on. “What’s the question?”

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What happens if you like a guy? If you end up dating, or he becomes your boyfriend?

As she scans the text, her lips twitch. Her gaze flickers to the camera as her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Are you asking because you’re afraid I’ll ghost you, or because you want to be my boyfriend?”

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