I set up my laptop in the kitchen, my stove range behind me and a factory line of graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows are queued up ready to go. How many of these things will I have to eat, I’m not sure.
My screen pings and I open the camera to see her face. Glasses, wild bun and a t-shirt that reads: these meetings could have all been emails. I agree except for any meeting where Laurel is present from now on. Is it awkward that we technically work together? I haven’t decided yet, but we’re not in the office so I don’t think it matters.
“Hi.” She waves at the screen and I wave back. I’ve done nothing but think about her, and a man alone with his thoughts is a dangerous thing I’ve found. I keep thinking of all the things I’d like to do with her, and to her, but can’t. It’s created this never-ending erection that’s been increasingly hard to handle – no pun intended in the shower.
“Hi Laurel.” My plan is to keep things as PC as possible. I haven’t broached the idea of remote fooling around, but I want to. I really want to.
“So…” Before Laurel can say anything more a tiny person launches herself at the screen.
“Hannah! Stop.” A micro human that looks vaguely like Laurel is dancing in front of the screen jumping up and down. A dark possessive side of me wants to ask if this child is hers. I don’t recall a dependent in her HR file which yes, I shamelessly scoured the digital files for before I recall her saying she has a niece. A deep sigh of relief fills me.
“Who is this little person?” I ask with fingers crossed behind my back.
“This is my nosy little niece.” She picks her up and perches her on her hip. The kid, though small could easily be half Laurel’s size.
“My name is Hannah.” She boldly pronounces and Laurel shrugs.
“Well, Hannah, I’m Van.”
“I know. You’re the boy on the phone my auntie likes so much. We make kissy faces and she gets mad.” I think I love Hannah. She’s adorable and the cherry cheeks on Laurel’s face make it worth the encounter.
“Ok Squirt. Go hang out in the living room with Gram and I’ll make you a s’more.” The child scampers off, but not before I hear the sound of lips smacking and Laurel’s groan.
“So…you like me.” I taunt her drawling the words out.
“Like is a heavy word. Tolerate your company?” She taps her lips with her fingernail, lips I’m desperate to kiss.
“Ouch.” I pretend injury and rub my chest.
“Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers in this social distancing age.” Laurel sasses back and I know if things ended right now I’d be heartbroken.
I present an alternative so she isn’t feeling quite on the spot.
“But what if…I like you?”
Her hands cup her cheeks, and she blows out a deep breath. “Like…like me, like me.”
“Yeah, totally into you.” I lean over the counter giving her my best I want you look. The kind of look that I imagine would melt her clothes right off and turn her into a gooey marshmallow, slow roasted and practically falling apart.
“Um, okay, I get it. Stop.” She’s shy and retreating so I let the matter drop. I’m hoping there will be plenty of time later to revisit this conversation. Hell, I’d give anything to make it less awkward, but that’s impossible. So I go with the next best thing, focusing on our task.
“Two pieces of chocolate or one?” I hold up my candy bar.
Laurel holds up her bag of marshmallows. “Seeing as how graham crackers are a standard size in this equation, I think it depends on these fluffy balls of condensed sugar and gelatin.”
“Ah.” I concur and open my bag pulling out a big one pinching it between my fingers.
“Why is yours so big?” She shakes her head as she says it and blushes all over again.
“Mine are always big.” I grin showing her as I bite into it, but she isn’t having it with my double-entendres tonight.
Her eyes narrow into angry slits. “That seem likes cheating.”
“Hey, I showed you mine, now show me yours.” I puff up my chest arms out challenging her.
Laurel’s bag has small ones so she has a hand full instead.
“We only keep the hot chocolate size around here so I’ll have to heat them like a skewer and then pluck them off and onto the cracker.” She holds up a long wooden stick and proceeds to stick about five of her small ones on it.
“Please be careful. No apartment fires.”
“We’re good.”
We both heat our marshmallows and I find myself eating more before they’re ready while Laurel gets her nice and toasty.
“I imagined this date going so much differently.”
“Hmm?” Laurel builds her S’mores and plates a few extra presumably for the cute niece.
“Yeah, I was hoping we’d be at my place upstate outside for real, or even here at my condo. I’d wrap you in a blanket or make you wear one of my flannel shirts to keep you warm.”
“Wait, hold up.” She puts her hand up blocking my view of her pretty face.
“What?”
“Donovan Ward owns flannel? This I gotta see.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
I don’t know what possess me, but I peel off my t-shirt and stalk back to my bedroom. I tear through my closet and find one of my flannel shirts. I push my arms through the sleeves and stalk back out to the kitchen to find a gape jawed Laurel staring back. I don’t bother buttoning up my shirt, instead I let it hang open and let Laurel get a view of my gym honed body.
“So you going to show me yours?”
“Van!” She whispered hisses at the screen looking away for a moment.
“I showed you how big my marshmallows were and my flannel. I’m starting to feel like I’m doing all the giving here.” I joke.
“Oh my God, behave.” She hisses swinging her laptop around blocking my view of anything in her apartment.
“I’m teasing. I’d never ask to see your, um. You know.”
“Please.” Laurel pleads and I can’t tell if I crossed a line or not. I’m kidding, perhaps in poor taste.
“Laurel, I’d never expect.”
“I know. I know. This is…”
“Challenging.” I offer and she agrees nibbling her lip. She’s got a tiny bit of melted chocolate in the corner of her mouth and damn if I don’t want a taste.
“Everyone is still up and about, I should go.”
“Tomorrow then?” I hang onto her every word.
“Definitely.” She ends the call with Hannah demanding a s’more and I’m left feeling distinctly unsatisfied and frustrated through no fault but of my own.
14
Laurel
Another dinner like date at home and we’ve devolved into our typical teasing banter.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Van’s eyes have that mischievous look in them and I bark out loud laughing.
“What?”
He can’t be serious, but I can tell he is in that Donovan deep think sort of way that unbalances me. Every day he draws me in deeper down the rabbit hole of lust.