Sweet Tooth

“Can you keep a secret?” she whispers seductively. “I really like you.”

           I like you too doesn’t seem like enough, so I struggle to find the right words to say in response. It’s only our third date, but I’m already standing here at the door to her apartment, and things are going very well. She’s gorgeous – way out of my league, but she genuinely seems interested in me. And I am very interested in her.

           “I haven’t had the best luck with guys,” she tells me.

           “I can’t imagine why,” I reply honestly. “You’re a great girl.”

           She smiles at me, her full, red lips stretching to her cheeks. “You’re so sweet!” I return her smile as she continues. “It’s not just guys, though. I’ve had problems with relationships my whole life – my friends, my parents. I’m starting to wonder if the problem is me!”

           “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true!” I insist, and truthfully, I don’t understand why anyone would walk away from this girl.

           She closes the gap between us and looks up at me with her wide eyes. “I try so hard,” she says earnestly. “I try to be someone that people will like. I wish I knew why they won’t stay.”

           God, her eyes are gorgeous – green with gold specks swimming within them. “They’re crazy,” I finally say. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

           “I know we haven’t known each other for very long,” she says as she reaches for my hand. Instinctively, I wrap my fingers around hers. Her petite hand, her slender fingers, fit snugly in mine. “You just seem so amazing; I don’t want you to get away!”

           She pulls my hand to her mouth and touches her lips to my fingers. “I want to get to know you,” I say, still mesmerized by her eyes. “I want to know everything about you.”

           Her wide eyes stare into mine. “You really mean that, don’t you?” My voice catches in my throat, and I find that I can’t answer her, so I only nod, but it’s enough for her. “You are so sweet!” She suddenly wraps her arms around me and pulls me in for a kiss.

           It isn’t our first kiss. She had kissed me goodnight after our first date, but this is different. This is deep and passionate. As it ends, she gently nips at my lower lip and then pulls away giggling. She grabs my hand and leads me into her apartment. “You know, I’ve always had quite a sweet tooth.” She sits down on the couch and pulls me into the spot next to her. “I was always getting in trouble for sneaking sweets when I was a kid.”

           I chuckle. “I think every kid gets in trouble for that.”

           “Oh, not like me,” she says, her face suddenly growing serious. “I was awful. Really awful. My mother hated it when I did it.” She pauses as she stares at me as if expecting me to say something, but I don’t know what to say, so I remain quiet. Finally, her expression softens. “But I don’t do that anymore.”

           The heaviness of her voice catches me off guard. I manage an awkward smile. “Well, I guess we all have to grow up, huh?”

           She sighs. “I suppose so.” Suddenly, a smile spreads across her face. “Do you know what I wanted to be when I was a kid?”

           “What?” I say, laughing at her excitement.

           “A baker!” She bounces up and down on the couch cushions, almost like she is a kid again. “I wanted to be a baker so that I could make cookies and cakes and all kinds of goodies!”

           “Wow!” I exclaim. “I guess you weren’t kidding about having a sweet tooth. Why didn’t you pursue it?”

           “Oh, I can’t bake. Or cook.” She waves her hand absently in the direction of her tiny kitchen behind me. “I burn everything! Believe me, I shouldn’t be allowed near an oven!”

           “Well, maybe I’ll have to bake you something sometime,” I offer. It has exactly the effect I was hoping for. Another wide smile spreads across her face.

           “Would you really?” she squeals. She pulls her long, auburn hair away from her face and leans in close. “Can you really bake?”

           “I’m no expert,” I admit. “But I know a few things. My parents didn’t believe in store-bought treats.”

           “And you would bake something for me?” She seems amazed that I would do something so small for her. I have to admit that I’ve had my doubts about this girl, amazing as she is, but maybe she just needs someone. If something as small as baking her cookies makes her so excited, she probably hasn’t had anyone show her any kind of affection before. No wonder she has been so quick to attach herself to me.

           “I would be happy to,” I tell her honestly. “Anything you want.”

           I almost expect her to start bouncing up and down again, but instead, she scooches closer to me and lays her head on my shoulder. I pull my hand off the back of the couch and start playing with her long hair. There are so many colors – red, orange, blonde, brown. Her hair is like the sunrise, and I’m beginning to think that this girl might be the beginning of a new day for both of us.

           “You really are wonderful,” she says softly. “Do you know that?”

           “I’m flattered that you think so,” I tell her. “I think you’re the first girl to tell me that.”

           “Maybe that’s because you were meant for me, and not for anyone else.” She clutches at me, holding me tight. I flinch.

           She must feel me tense under her because she sits up suddenly and narrows her eyes. “What is it?” she asks. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like me?”

           “Of course I do!” I assure her. “And I really hope that you’re right! It’s just that, well, we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, and we’re still getting to know each other.” I take her hands in mine, squeezing them gently. “I want to spend time with you, to get to know you. And I hope that we end up figuring out that we were meant for each other, but I just don’t know yet.” For just a second, her gaze breaks from mine, and she looks over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but shouldn't we know each other better before we make a commitment?”

           She pulls her attention back to me and gives me a small smile. “Of course.” She lets go of my hands and stands, and for a minute I’m afraid that she’ll kick me out. “Would you like something to drink? I have a few bottles of wine.”

           Sighing with relief, I nod. “That sounds great.”

           She leaves the room and walks into the tiny kitchen. I relax into the couch and listen as I hear the bottle opened and the liquid poured. It’s crazy, but I’m beginning to believe that maybe I could commit to this girl. She’s everything I could ever hope for – beautiful, smart, fun. Why would I even consider looking for anyone else?

           She comes back to the couch holding two wind glasses filled with dark red wine. She hands me one, and I sip carefully at it as she sits down with her own glass. She watches me as I take a few more mouthfuls, but doesn’t speak or drink from her own glass. Concerned, I pull my glass away from my lips and ask, “Are you upset with me?”

           She sighs. “No, just disappointed. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I told you earlier, guys just don’t want to stick around. Nobody does.”

           I pull her hand into mine. “Hey, I’m not leaving. I’m not ready to make a commitment yet, but that doesn’t mean I never will. It’s just going to take a little bit of time, that’s all. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere.”

           “No,” she said softly. “You’re not.” I tilt my head as I give her a questioning look, but she just sets her glass down on the coffee table without having taken a sip.

           She looks sad, and I don’t understand why. I want to reassure her; I want to make her understand that I’m not intending to walk away, but I’m afraid she’s not going to listen to anything I say. I hate to think that this could be over almost before it starts, but –

           A wave of dizziness washes over me. I squeeze my eyes closed and wait for it to pass, but it doesn’t. I feel the wine glass slipping out of my grasp, but I can’t stop it. I can’t grab it. But I don’t need to. When I open my eyes, I see her reaching out and taking it out of my hand before it falls and placing it on the coffee table next to her full glass.

           “I’m sorry,” I slur, suddenly unable to speak clearly. “I don’t . . . I don’t feel-”

           “It’s okay,” she soothes. She pulls her body close to mine as I lean back into the couch cushions. I feel her hand on my face, in my hair. It should feel good, but I can’t focus on it. All I can focus on is trying to keep my eyes open. My eyelids feel so heavy. Everything feels so heavy. I can’t fight it. I let my eyes close again, and this time they stay closed. “I’m so tired of people leaving me,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m not letting you leave me.”

           The wine. She must have . . . she . . . must . . . have . . .