Sweetheart [On Hold - Resuming 2023]

15. Sentient Potato

I honestly expected Melody to dive out of my car when I hurled that loaded question about us at her. I rehearsed it a million times in my head on the drive to her friend's apartment. Somehow, I still managed to fuck it all up. Me, the king of memorizing my lines. I panicked and went off script, eventually calling her the "realness I've been missing in my life."

Gone are the days when I was a smooth-talking actor. Melody turns me into a philosophical, blubbering theater kid who can't remember his lines.

Luckily, she didn't slap me or run away, never to be seen again, though she probably should have. Instead, she blew my mind. She told me she shares my feelings. Then, she kissed me.

I've kissed a lot of women in my life. It comes with the territory.

Nothing has ever compared to kissing Melody. The second she pulled me in, the world disappeared. All that was left was the two of us, stuck on a rollercoaster. Fireworks and crazy adrenaline rushes sparked flames within my chest. I shivered when we pulled apart, and I wasn't the only one. Melody was trembling.

I never had a type before, but Melody is it. From her pouty lips to her long legs, she's fucking gorgeous. I could watch her run her fingers through her silky hair for hours and stay mesmerized.

Her bright eyes narrow. "Is everything okay?"

She caught me zoning out, admiring her while she kicks off her boots by my front door. It's a weird thing to admit, so I flash her a grin. "Everything is great. I'm with you."

That line was just as weird, if not worse. There's something wrong with me, I swear.

Once again, Melody snoozes on the opportunity to run away. Her cheeks tinge red, and she hoists her lips into a smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry about earlier. I was rude over text. It's not that I didn't want to see you. I'm just having a really shitty day." She bites her lip. "I feel like I say that way too much."

"Maybe you need to stop having bad days, then," I joke.

That earns a genuine smile. "Yeah, I'm working on it," she deadpans.

"Can I help?"

"I'd like that."

"Just tell me what to do, boss."

She bites her lip again. "I could really go for some takeout. I haven't eaten all day."

Just on time, my stomach growls. Her eyebrows raise in amusement.

"What are you in the mood for?" I ask, handing her my phone with a delivery app open.

"Mexican?"

"A woman after my own heart," I groan, clutching my chest.

She smirks. "Good. It's my favorite. I was never allowed to eat it when I was a kid. I'm still trying to make up for lost time."

Not allowed to eat Mexican food? What the fuck?