Page 12 of Dating Goals
“So she’s singing Blondie, sees you, and grabs…a fish?”
“It was this musical trout thing. Like a wall decoration.” I mime wielding it like a weapon. “She started yelling at me in two languages.”
Dex is practically doubled over now. “Please tell me you got her number.”
“No, she kind of…ran away.” I scratch the back of my neck. “But I’m pretty sure she lives in town somewhere. Grächen’s small, so…”
“So you’re gonna casually lurk around street corners in case she happens to walk by?”
“What? No! I just might keep an eye out. You know, in case she needs to use my bathroom again.”
4
ANIKA
This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever had. I clutch the plate of homemade Chräbeli, which is balancing on the pack of Goldeimer toilet paper. It’s a practical peace offering, I think. After I made a fool of myself last week.
The cookies are still warm from the oven, and the sweet anise scent wafts up, reminding me why I’m here. To apologize. That’s all. Nothing more.
The door knocker echoes through the cabin, but no answer comes. My knuckles rap against the wood.
Still nothing.
My shoulders slump with relief and maybe a little disappointment.
Just as I’m about to leave the gifts by the door, a rhythmic thunking sound draws my attention around the corner of the cabin. I follow it, my boots crunching through fallen leaves, until…
Oh. Mein. Guete!
Griffin stands in a clearing, wielding an axe. Sunlight streams through the autumn leaves, catching the beads of sweat on his bare shoulders and back. His muscles ripple and flex as he brings the axe down, splitting a log effortlessly.
I freeze mid-step, cookies and toilet paper almost forgotten in my suddenly slack grip. I’ve seen shirtless men at the lake in summer, but none like…this.
My mouth goes dry as I watch him work, time seeming to slow down. Each powerful swing showcases the play of muscles across his back, his biceps flexing as he positions another log.
What am I even doing here? The cookies were just an excuse, if I’m being honest. A pitiful attempt to make up for breaking into his bathroom and threatening him with a fish. But now I can’t tear my eyes away from the way his wavy hair curls damply at his neck, or how his jeans hang low on his hips as he bends to gather more wood.
He pauses to wipe his brow with the back of his hand, and I duck behind a tree like some creepy forest stalker. What am I doing? Ogling him like he’s the star of a lumberjack calendar?
But I can’t stop watching. The way his shoulders bunch and release. The pure strength in his movements that somehow still holds a dancer’s grace.
“Enjoying the show?”
I jump, nearly dropping the cookies. Griffin turns around, propping the axe casually on one shoulder. His smile shows off those dimples that should be illegal.
Heat floods my face as I realize I’ve been caught staring. “I…brought cookies.”
I straighten, shaking off the embarrassment. I’m just going to set the offering on the ground and back away like I’m at the mouth of a volcano leaving a sacrifice to the angry volcano gods.
“You came all this way to bring me cookies?” His voice holds warm amusement that makes my insides flutter. He sets down the axe and steps closer, still gloriously shirtless.
I nod mutely, wondering if it’s possible to spontaneously combust from proximity to male perfection. He’s just a man, I remind myself. Just. A. Man.
“These are Chräbeli,” I blurt, still holding the plate and toilet paper like a complete idiot. “And…toilet paper. For breaking in. To use your toilet.”
I freeze as the implications hit me. “Oh no. Not that the cookies will make you need to…I mean, they’re perfectly safe. The toilet paper is separate. Not related. Just practical.” I clamp my mouth shut. Why can’t I stop babbling?
Griffin’s eyes dance with amusement as he crosses his arms, making his muscles do…interesting things. “So, to summarize, your apology gifts are questionably edible cookies and emergency toilet paper?”
