PART I
When life gives you bananas, make a smoothie
Chapter One
CANDY
Post title: You Won’t Believe This
From Candy Boys (Blog Serial)
J-One licks his lips suggestively and pulls me onto his lap. “Ready for this, baby?”
Is this a trick question? I’m always ready for him and he knows it.
For them.
J-Two nuzzles my neck from behind, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my skin. “Just get on with it, J,” he grumbles. “You’re wasting time.”
“Use your mouth for something else, will you?” J-One slides his hands up my body, eyes heavy-lidded.
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Let’s talk about bananas…”
Hm. Sure.
Why not, right?
You know how there are people who hang out in bookshops, browsing books and secretly sniffing the musty odor of their pages? How they are often nerdy, with glasses and Star Wars hoodies, giving you that nervous sideways glance when they catch you looking? The real bookworms? The archetypal readers?
Well, the guy who just walked through the door is nothing like that.
Let’s back up a little. This day didn’t start out promising at all. Cloudy and dark, with a chilly wind, and I realized too late I had run out of coffee.
Candace Amanda Riley, I told myself sternly, you got this.
But then my car wouldn’t start. And when I arrived at the shop, it was only to find out Annie, the other girl working here, quit. Chris from the coffee shop next door says she eloped to Vegas with a guy she just met.
Let me note here that today it’s Thursday. I mean, come on. Things can’t go that bad on a Thursday. There’s Mondays for that!
So this guy walks in and the day suddenly turns better. The clouds clear, the sun comes out, and he’s standing there, backlit like an angel, a radiance forming a halo around his dark hair, lighting up his face—and his body.
I adjust my glasses for a better look and let out a shuddery breath.
Oh God, he’s tall. And those shoulders. They seem to fill the shop from side to side. Those narrow hips. Those spectacular biceps, bulging when he lifts a hand to push his hair out of his blue eyes.
Wait a minute. I know those eyes.
The beautiful stranger walks up to me, and I take a step back, because he’s not really a stranger. I know him, very well. As much as it is possible without actually sleeping with him, that is.
J-One. J the runner. J the Powerhouse.
Joel Kingsley.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt, gesturing at the shelves filled with comics and fantasy books and posters.
Because, come on. I may have been in lust with Joel since my first day in college, an infatuation and a crush that didn't end with this graduation, but can we please address the elephant in the room?
Joel Kingsley is an athlete and a business major. He doesn’t like fiction. He doesn’t like novels. He doesn’t like books. In short, he doesn’t like any of the things I care for. He hangs out in noisy places, flirts with anything in a skirt, and all in all, his trajectory never touches mine.