Love In B Minor

We got hooked on that show last weekend—after another day spent working. Me on my music, and she on her next choreography.

She’s a marshmallow, and that’s why she’s back volunteering at the hospital. Finding ways to keep her sister close to her and finding ways to pay tribute to her.

I turn left and pull into a spot across the street from the hospital. The parking lot is full of people and cars, patients and doctors. My shades are set firmly on my nose. Even though Jen and I are old news now. Olivia is more in the press than we are. Something about her looking for love again.

I shiver remembering Olivia’s eyes when she told me everything: they were cold, devoid of any remorse or regrets. They were lifeless like she had nothing to lose.

I shake my head and focus on the present. The weather is almost perfect—even though it shouldn’t be so hot in the spring. The slight breeze makes the heat bearable.

My phone beeps. We’re all here.

My lips turn into a smile.  Jen has no clue. She thinks we’re going to rehearse a new song. But I wanted to do something to surprise her for her birthday.

She hurries out of the door and smiles as soon as she spots me. “Thanks again for picking me up.” I kiss her lips. Only a short kiss because if I get lost in her, I’m never going to be found again. I’m never going to want to be found again.

And that can’t happen. We’re on a deadline.

She squeezes my hand, tells me about the hospital, the hardships. Her voice trembles, but she sounds strong. Much stronger than me.

Then, she pauses. “Where are we going?”

“I thought you said we had to pass by the company before going to work.”

She sighs, and I’m sure she’s pursing her lips. “You said we had to be at the studio at 3pm. That’s why I had to leave now and not stay.”

I glance at her, but her face is turned to the window. “You know you can’t save everyone.” My tone is gentle and my heart hurts for her. Whenever she leaves the hospital, she’s always full of raw emotions.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Maybe I should have planned something else. Something different.

She shrugs and then exhales loudly—a sign she’s trying to get a hold of herself. “Now that we’re here, I might as well see if we can work this choreography on the new song, instead of working on the old one.”

Finding a parking spot in Paris is never easy, and I didn’t want to use any more perks than I already do, so we park a few minutes away from the company.

People are strolling around. Some are sitting at a café laughing, having a good time. Paris in the spring. There’s nothing like it.

But Jen is still tense. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, bring her close.  “I’ll make you cookies as soon as we get home.”

She cracks a small smile and kisses my cheek. “You do make the best cookies.”

I lean in. Her scent envelops me. “You’re just saying that because I don’t wear a shirt when I make them.” My entire body reacts to her fingers, trailing down my arm. She pulls me into a small street out of the way.

“Maybe we should just go to your place now.”

She has no idea how much I would love to. I would love to kiss her soft skin, to touch her, to feel her. All of her.

Or maybe she does. With a glint in her eyes, she takes a step closer to me. One hand on my chest, she whispers, “Your heart’s beating fast.”

“If you bring your hand down, you’ll understand why,” I grunt.

She kisses me. And if I thought I was on fire before, I was wrong.

“Sorry,” someone mutters as they try to walk past us.

“No, I am,” I mutter and Jen giggles. And her giggles make me feel like a rockstar. Much more than all the people screaming my name before a concert. “Let’s go.” I pull her with me towards the company again.

I’ve been here many times now: to pick her up, to watch her rehearse, to celebrate the happy news of the members of the company. And it’s never so quiet. Did I mess up something?

But then, I hear it. The chorus of voices from the speakers in one of the rehearsals rooms. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.

Jen turns to me, and her smile is so wide I want to give myself a high five.

“What’s going on?” She asks but she already knows. What she might not know is that I managed to get everyone here for her. Her parents, her friend Emilia and a video of the kids she used to help at the hospital in New York. Five of them are now of the hospital, and they danced for her like she used to for them.

The door of the rehearsal room opens and cheers erupt. Her friends rush to her. Emilia gives me a thumbs up while Alisha simply beams.

Jen gasps and turns to me. She squeezes my hand. “I knew you had something planned. I knew it. But I had no clue you got everyone here.”

I squeeze her hand back. “I love you.”

Her eyes are full of happy tears. “I love you too.” She pauses and bites her lower lip. “I still want those cookies when I get home. I’ll help you make them.”

I chuckle as she winks. The last time she helped me make them the dough was all over me and she was licking it off.

I can’t complain.

Life isn’t easy. But life is good. And tonight? Tonight I’ll ask her to move in with me.

THE END

LUCAS BAKING COOKIES FOR JEN FOR THE FIRST TIME– JEN’S POINT OF VIEW

“You wanted me to bake cookies?” He whispers against my skin. And my brain slowly registers the word. Cookies. I did want him to bake cookies. But ever since we stepped into his apartment I forgot everything that’s not him, his hands on me, his lips on mine, on my neck, discovering, teasing. “Cookies?” He repeats but I’m too busy taking off his shirt. My fingers trail on his chest, his muscular chest.

My stomach chooses this moment to rumble and I giggle. I can’t believe I giggle.

His lips tug into a smile. A smile that keeps my body warm and my heart leaning towards his. Like it’s about to share a secret beat or something.

“Cookies. Hmm, yep. Cookie sounds great.” I pull my hair into a bun…trying to distract myself from the view he’s offering. All man. All sexy. He’s so close. I take a step back, only noticing now how big his apartment is: with a piano standing in the middle.

“Do you play?” I ask, pointing to it and he shrugs.

“Something like that.” I recognize a distraction maneuver when I see one, but I let it go. Maybe he has big dreams. Maybe he wants to become a rock star. Maybe he’ll tell me later. Later. I shake my head, raise on my toes and lower myself down again. I can’t think about later. We have here and now. Nothing else.

“Can I help you?” I head to the kitchen.

“Maybe google a cookie recipe?” His shit-eating grin is almost as attractive as the way his muscles flex as he grabs ingredients around the kitchen. “Unless you know one?” He raises an eyebrow pointing the butter at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“No, because you asked for the cookies.” He chuckles. “We can have this post-feminism conversation as soon as I’m done with the dough,”

“Post-feminism?” It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. He’s full of surprises.

“My mom taught me well.” He winks and I’m tempted again to tell him to forget about the cookies so I can wrap myself around him, so I can feel him inside of me.

But I resist.

I grab my phone, google Delicious Cookie Recipes, and settle on the first one I see with five stars. I show it to him and he nods.

“I got everything. I’m telling you, I’m such a pro.”

And for the next few minutes, we prepare the dough together. He tells me how much he needs and I hand it to him. Until it takes form. He hands me a tiny piece of his index finger and I don’t break eye contact as I lick it off his finger.

“Hmmm..” I moan. And not only because his eyes darken and the tension between us is scorching hot. I moan because the dough is simply delicious. He turns on the over, and I take a small piece of dough for him to taste. His tongue lingers on my finger and another piece of dough finds itself on my neck. I shiver when his lips find a spot right there. A spot that makes me want more. So much more. He kisses the top of my nose playfully and puts the cookies in the oven.

He cleans the kitchen while they bake, telling me I need to stay at least two steps away or he will stop everything and carry me to the couch, the bed, the floor, the counter.

“Maybe I want you to.” I watch his muscles tense and relax.

“Maybe I will, but I really want you to take that cookie.”

My stomach rumbles a bit more quietly this time. “Me too,” I reply.

Once the oven beeps, he takes one in his hands. It’s clearly hot and almost breaks off with chocolate dripping from it. One drop ends on his chest and I don’t think, I don’t over analyze, I close the distance between us and lick it off. He hauls me on the counter with a grunt.

Watch me for a second and kisses me like he’s been deprived of air for months, and I’m his oxygen.

I nibble his upper lip and his hands tighten around me. Everything tightens against me. But then my stomach rumbles again.

“Cookies it is,” he says with a chuckle. But in his eyes, I see the promise of a night I’m never going to forget.

And not only because of the delicious and warm cookies.

Thank you so much for reading!

😊