It all started with a bag of groceries and a little eye contact.

He’s the new one across the street—barely out of high school, all gangly politeness and shy smiles. Calls me “Miss Cassidy” like we’re in some Hallmark movie, but his eyes linger just a little too long on the way my tank top hugs my waist when I reach into the trunk.

So when I saw him walking by and struggling with his own shopping bags, I offered a little deal.

“You carry mine in, I’ll give you something sweet,” I said, popping open the trunk with one finger and the laziest grin on my face.

He turned bright red. But he nodded.

And followed me inside.

The air conditioning hit his face like a slap—he stopped just inside the kitchen, trying not to look like he was looking. The house was clean, lit soft with that kind of afternoon haze that makes everything seem a little sticky, a little slow.

I let him take it in.

“You want a soda or something?” I asked, already halfway to the pantry.

“Sure,” he said, voice cracking like it hadn’t quite finished puberty.

Bless him.

I reached into the pantry with a little stretch, robe falling just open enough to reveal what I wasn’t wearing underneath. He saw. Of course he saw. I didn’t need to turn around to feel the blush rolling off of him like heatwaves.

“Soda’s behind you, sweetheart,” I said, grabbing the chocolate bar I’d hidden behind the granola.

He turned—too fast. Knocked a coaster off the counter. Fumbled it back into place. My poor baby was unraveling.

I stepped close. Close enough to let my breath hit his collarbone. Held the chocolate out between two fingers, slow and teasing.

“You like sweet things?” I asked.

He nodded, throat dry.

“Then you’re in the right kitchen.”

He took it. His hand brushed mine and he shivered. I bit my lip just a little. It was all I needed to do. I didn’t touch him. I didn’t kiss him. But I could feel him falling apart just standing there.

He said “thank you” like it hurt to say anything at all.

And when he left?

He walked into the screen door.

I didn’t laugh until he was all the way across the street.

The pantry’s not the only thing wide open,

~ Cassidy

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