Page 81 of Lovetown, USA
Another scream, followed by clapping. “Girl! Tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say, laughing. “It was a one-time thing. It was fun. I did it because I was keeping an open mind.”
Nadia cackles. “And you see what that got you, right?”
“I do.”
“So are you bi now? How does this work?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m attracted to Shayla specifically, but I’ve never felt like that with any other woman. She’s just…we vibe. You know?”
“I don’t, but I kinda want to now.”
We share a laugh at that.
“But she had the nerve to tell me she thinks Trey has real feelings for me.”
“Good. I agree.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, bitch. From what you’ve told me about him, it sounds like he’s actually romancing you. He sounds thoughtful. Genuinely interested. That’s hard to come by these days.”
I roll my eyes. “Nadia, come on—“
“Just be open to the possibility, that’s all. If you can be open to a threesome, you can be open to a relationship.”
I hate how much sense that makes. “Well when you put it that way…”
We’re silent for a moment before she sighs again. “So what about Ashton?”
“Girl, I don’t know,” I whine. “Just follow your heart or whatever. Go hard or go home. Love like no one’s watching. Accept the things you cannot change. All that good shit.”
She’s silent for a beat. “Yeah, I think we’re both hopeless.”
“Fine with me,” I say. “Hope is pointless anyway.”
“Where are we?”
Trey’s hand is on my lower back as he guides me down a narrow, winding hallway. The building we entered looks like a warehouse from the outside, but the inside is anyone’s guess.
But the smells are awfully familiar…something sweet. Like a pastry shop. Or a Krispy Kreme.
There’s soft light ahead.
“Right in here,” he says as he guides me through the entryway.
It’s a gigantic kitchen.
He grabs two aprons from the wall next to a large walk-in refrigerator. “Our date tonight,” he says as he ties an apron around my waist, “is baking for the women and children’s shelter. They have a dance this weekend, and we’re stocking the dessert table.”
He bends down to give me a soft peck as I stand there stunned.
“Trey…that’s so sweet,” I manage to say. “Do you volunteer often?”
“Not like this,” he says, tying his own apron on. “I usually do mobile care at the shelters once or twice a month. I thought you’d enjoy this more.”
Right here, surrounding by gleaming silver machines and the cold draft of the air conditioning blowing right above my head, my body warms intensely as I stare at this man.
