Her First Bite

Eighteen | Cinnamon Roll

Friday was fucking p-e-r-f-e-c-t.

It felt like a movie. I actually felt like someone had scripted down the whole day and they nailed it down to a T because it seemed like everything was placed right, seemed like everything was fitting where it needed to be. It seemed like a fucking Hallmark movie.

The title of said movie would be, 'Big Dick Chef meets Lonely, Boring, Dick-Craved slut and they go shopping for fruits and vegetables'. Had to add in that last part because we were at the Farmers' Market. IE: Where the movie would take place. But maybe that movie title was too long? It kinda-of sounded like a porno.

Maybe I just needed to change it. Change it to, 'Big Dick Chef woos Girl', because basically the whole day, woo after woo was what was occurring. When his hand stayed in mine, the whole time - even when my mom tried to drag his arm away - he wooed me. When we sat down to eat and he offered to pay, he wooed me. When he sucker punched a guy, right in the nose, that looked at me for a second, he fucking wooed me.

Okay, that last one was a lie.

If a guy ever sucker punched another man just because another guy glanced, for a second, at his girlfriend. . .That's a fucking red flag. Maybe she had something in her teeth? Maybe she had a roach on her shoulder that she didn't know about? No one should go around punching people in the face because of a look. Now, I could get it if the man staring was creepily or weirdly but still, violence was never the answer.

But did you know what was the answer? Did you know what fit together like puzzle pieces? Did you know what matched? Did you know the Muffin Man?

Sorry excuse that last question.

To answer what matched though - me and Vance. Vance and I matched together like a crackhead and crack. Like a left sock and right sock. Like Beyonce and a grammy.

It just made sense. We just made sense.

These couple of times we have been hanging out, it had been brought to my attention of how well we meshed. Of how much I liked how we meshed. I found myself now wondering what it would be like to hold Vance's hands, all the time. How it would feel like always waking up to his beautiful face in the morning, waking up bed in the same bed as him. Under the same covers. Making food under the same roof. Using the same knives. Morning greetings, afternoon greetings. Late night kisses and hugs. Calling him my boyfriend.

I was a big dreamer. Some would say a dare devil.

That was the reason why my hand stretched across my bedside table, yanked my phone out the charger, then brought up Vance's contact.

Also my boldness, dare devil act, was still alive and functioning all day yesterday too. Hence why I first grabbed his hand and also why I asked him for his number. Some may ask, Oh why was the dumb slut asking Vance for his number anyway? I would reply that, that's what friends did.

Maybe I would need to barrow a cup of sugar? Maybe a pinch of cinnamon? Maybe a sprinkle of dick?

Who knew the time when it would come that I would need his services? And not just sexual services. Maybe I just wanted someone to talk to. Someone to gossip about the new Kardashian episode with. Friends had each others numbers. Friends texted. So that's what I wanted to do. Text my friend. . .

Why the fuck was it taking me forever to think of something though?

Did How did you sleep sound creepy? Or maybe a Good Morning? A What are you doing today? I knew that maybe the last question wasn't the best. I was acting like I had the day off. If he would've said nothing, what would I had said? 'Oh you want to come with me to my first day at work and just sit in the booth until I get off?' I didn't want to get rejected, so I needed to think of another greeting.