X Reese

P.S. If you would like these sorts of messages, please give your number to Fred.

Oh man. I sigh loudly as Joey snatches the note out of my hand. Finding my notepad under the counter, I bite my cheek to stop from smiling so much as I scribble down my cell number and hand it directly to Fred, the delivery man.

“Thanks, Ms. Dylan. Have a great day,” he says, turning quickly and walking out of the shop.

“He wants you to sit on his face? Well, that’s it, Billy needs to take lessons from Reese on explicit letter writing.” He hands me back the note and I place it back in its small envelope, putting it under the counter where I’m now storing them in a small tin. “You know you’re practically swooning over there right?” he says to me as I pull my hair up into a high messy bun.

“Swooning? Who the fuck says swooning? What are you, ninety?” I pull a few stray pieces out and tuck them behind my ears.

He pulls his sandwich out and hands me mine and we start digging in. “So, what did he mean by ‘the way it felt to be inside you’? I mean, you’ve already had sex with him so why would he... oh... oh my God. Did you fuck him without a condom?” He spits bits of chicken salad at me as he shouts hysterically.

“Jesus. Close your mouth. I’d prefer to not be covered in your sandwich.” Crap. I really didn’t want Joey to know about this but I manage to forget how fucking insightful he is sometimes. I grunt loudly before I answer. “Even though it’s none of your business, yes, I did.” I make a face and wipe a hunk of mayo off my apron that had managed to hit me in the middle of my shop logo.

Slamming his hand on the counter for dramatic effect, like he needed it, he finally speaks after chewing and swallowing his bite. “That’s fucking huge and really fucking serious. I’ve never even done that. Shit, how was it? Good enough to swear off condoms permanently?” He smiles wickedly at me as I nod slowly.

“With him? Yes, absolutely. It was perfect.”

“So you two are officially a couple now? Fuck yes. That’s what I’m talking about, bitch.” He holds his hand up for me to high-five him and I shake my head as I chew up my bite. Damn it. Thanks for the reminder.

“No, we’re not a couple. We’re monogamously casual.” I take another bite of my too die for sandwich.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

I swallow my bite and stare at my sandwich, avoiding his judging stare. “It means we’re not serious but we’re only sleeping with each other. So it’s still casual and only about sex.” I feel a sharp pain in my chest. “Now that we both have established that we’ll only be with each other in that way, we don’t have to use condoms. Besides, he was my first and I was his.” And that part right there eases that pain. I glance up at him and see his unconvinced expression.

“Umm, okay. Honestly, I think you’re both delusional if you think it’s casual for either one of you. You light up when you talk about this guy and he writes you love letters. Fuck the casual bullshit.” He crumbles up his wrapper and shoots it into the trash can. “On another note, I think it’s really sweet that you were each other’s first times without it. I’m sure it meant just as much to him as it meant to you.”

I grumble loudly. “Shut up, it’s just sex. And he doesn’t write me love letters. He sends me flour and panties with tiny notes.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Want something to drink?” he asks, moving towards the kitchen as my phone beeps in my pocket.

“Please,” I reply, pulling it out and seeing an unknown number.

Unknown: There you are. Now I don’t have to worry so much about Fred intercepting my letters to you.

I smile and type frantically.

Me: Here I am. And I happen to like your letters so I hope you don’t mind the risk of Fred intercepting them.

Reese: The risk is worth it, love. Can I see you this weekend?

Me: I think I can squeeze you in somewhere. I have a wedding cake to work on tonight but I’m free tomorrow night.

Joey returns with two sodas and places one in front of me on the counter.

“Thanks. So, where are you and your hot ass lawyer going tonight?” I force myself to keep my eyes on Joey and not the phone that is in my hand.

He notices the struggle instantly. “Some ritzy Italian joint. And you don’t have to hide your enthusiasm about Reese texting you. I’m done trying to convince you that it’s more than you’re both letting on.” He takes a sip of his soda and pulls his phone out, pointing to the clock on the wall and smiling wide.

“Sweet. Dance party time.” I squeal, setting my phone down on the counter as he docks his phone onto the speaker station and flips to a song.

Every Friday at noon, Joey and I dance and sing along to one song in the shop. It doesn’t matter if customers come in and it doesn’t matter how busy we are. We always make time for one song on Friday. A few months ago, I had an entire wedding party in here dancing along to “Locked out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars. It was awesome. Justin Timberlake’s “Love Stoned” blares through the speakers as I spin around and begin dancing and singing along to the lyrics with Joey.

I’m on a serious roll when he cuts the music and stands staring at the shop door, the familiar hot guy in the building look on his face. Spinning around to see what the fuss is about, I see a very amused face staring at me. Smiling in a suit and tie, the attractive blond steps forward and tilts his head.

“Well, thank Christ I decided to stop in here during my lunch break. Otherwise I might have missed that hot little show.” He steps closer to the counter and presses his hands on the top, causing me to stumble back a bit.

“Sweet mother. You’re like a sexy man magnet lately,” Joey mutters to me softly.

I clear my throat and smile. “Sorry about that. Can I help you?”

“I hope so, Dylan.” His eyes drop to my name tag and then flick back to my face. Good but didn’t have the same effect as my name coming out of Reese’s mouth. He’s tall and blond, hair cut short and spiky with chiseled cheek bones and thin lips. “My father came in the other day and requested something. He’s not feeling well so he sent me to come pick it up.” He glances down at the display case and then back up at my face. “Do you have any idea what I’m referring to because he wasn’t specific?”

I think for a minute before it dawns on me. “Oh, the tarts.” I shuffle quickly to the kitchen and bring out the container of treats. “I’m sorry to hear he isn’t feeling well.”

The man smirks. “Yeah well, I can’t say I share your sympathy. His illness did bring me in here to see you.” He smiles wide, showing perfect teeth and winks at me. I shudder a bit.

“Jesus.” Joey utters as he steps behind the register. I ignore him and the comment from the man.

“Umm, well the tarts are $3.75 apiece. How many would he like?”

“I don’t know, three I guess? Can I get your number?”

I freeze midair as I’m reaching into the container to pick out the tarts. Jesus, Joey was right. I don’t think I’ve ever been this popular with men before. Quickly shaking off his question, I pull four tarts out of the container and place them into a pastry box as Joey rings him up.