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♥ FIRST IMPRESSIONS ♥
The little alarm on the table chirped again, signaling the end of another round. Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds that felt more like a lifetime. You forced a polite smile as the latest candidate in this endurance test—Greg? Grant?—offered a weak handshake and shuffled off to the next table. Sipping your watered-down wine, you glanced toward the exit and caught a glimpse of your friend, the one who dragged you to this sad Lonely Hearts singles mixer on Valentine’s Day. She seemed to be enjoying herself more than you were.
This was just the first activity of a handful, and you were already dreading the rest. Your friend suspected you were about to make a break for it and shot you a pressing look. She was right, though. It's been a long time since you broke up with your ex and as hard as it was to admit, you were starting to feel lonely. If you wanted to meet someone, you had to make an effort and put yourself out there. Since most dating apps were just a cesspool in your opinion, you let her bring you to this corny get-together just for fun.
So far, fun was lacking. It felt like a parade of awkward small talk, self-promotional monologues, and a lot of unsolicited opinions about the tattoo of your favorite anime character plastered on your arm. Maybe you had lost practice. Perhaps you’ve become a little antisocial. Or it could be that the last guy you were with really left a mark on you– one of those you can't get fully rid of, like a tattoo. No matter how many skin layers you burn, there’ll always be a faint shadow of his presence in your life. He cheated on you, except you were the other woman. He turned you into something you despise, and while you were aware that not every guy it's going to be like that, it made you more cynical than you used to be. Your standards rose up and with that came limiting your options when it came to giving someone a chance.
The alarm went off once more as you put your glass down to see the next guy taking the chair across the table. Barely glancing at him, your eyes went to check the time on your phone quickly before pasting your smile back on and looking ahead. You braced yourself for more of the same, except the man who slid into the chair wasn’t what you expected at all. Unlike the guys before him, he seemed more carefree and relaxed. His outfit, far from crisp button-downs and dress pants and garish watches, was made out of a pair of jeans and navy blue Henley with the top buttons undone. His chest and shoulders were broad and toned, hugged tightly by the ribbed fabric of his shirt. His rugged features were clean-shaven, his short hair was barely styled. There was a bashfulness in his smile that reached his brown eyes that directly looked into yours avidly. The men that sat in his place before could barely take their eyes out of your cleavage; which in all fairness it was exactly what you were doing with…
“B.J.” you read aloud the name sticker placed on the left side of his chest. “Are you asking or offering?”
He snorted, hanging his head down quickly, his ears turned red.
“I’ve never heard that one before. It stands for Bradley James, but I prefer B.J.”
“Don’t we all?” You found yourself genuinely smiling for the first time this evening, and wanting to know more about him.
Instead of being armed with a rehearsed sales pitch right off the bat, he started casually asking questions about yourself. You quickly went back and forth about hobbies, jobs, favorite foods without digging too much into anything. You learned about him that he loves sports, coaches college football and has a son. When it was your turn, he found that you love cooking, baking in particular was your passion, and you'd love to open a bakery someday and leave your corporate job. He quickly clocked and identified the tattoo on your arm. You were about to dig into it when the alarm marked the passing of your five minutes.
You sighted as he offered his hand in your direction.
“It was nice to meet you, sweetheart.” You took his hand for a brief shake, and you firmly gripped to it for a couple of seconds, almost pulling him back down onto the chair. “We’ll pick it up later, yeah?”
Nodding, you let go of his hand and finished the speed dating round with a much better attitude than how it started.
♥ CIRCLE OF TRUST ♥
Moving on to the next activity on the list, the organizers of the event split people into even groups of around eight people. Each group sat together in a circle of chairs, while each of you took turns standing in the middle. The idea was to tell a story about a past relationship and the others had to guess if it was true or not. Each person was allowed to ask one question and at the end they all had to reach a consensus whether it’s real or a lie. There’s no winner but embarrassment.
You really weren't looking forward to confessing something that doesn’t bring happy memories whatsoever. You could’ve lied and told a made up story, but it all came down to the impression you wanted to give, and since B.J. serendipitously landed in your group you didn’t want to lie.
When your turn came up you bit the inside of your lip for a moment before opening your mouth. You held your hands together, absentmindedly fidgeting with your thumbs as you told the story of your last break up. It wasn’t the most shocking thing you heard that night but for some reason a lot of people thought you were lying.
“So, he was married the whole time, and you didn’t know?” The first incredulous voice asked when the question round started.
“Yep, I never knew.”
“What did he do for a living?” Asked the next person.
“He was a pharma rep,” you responded. “He used to travel all the time so it all seemed pretty normal at the time.”
“How did you find out he was married?”
“A second profile with his name popped in my recommended accounts on Instagram. His pic was him with another woman. It was private so... not my proudest moment, but I made a fake account, I put the name of his company on my bio, and not long after… he accepted me. Turned out he was proudly married with two kids.”
The hesitation in your voice only made the scales tipped heavily towards lie. But the verdict wasn’t in yet. You got a few more questions until they got to B.J.
“Do you think he ever loved you?”
Pausing, you glanced at him before answering. “I think he believed he did.”
When you finally went back to your chair, the majority of hands thought you were lying as you were expecting. You honestly didn't care what a few strangers thought of you, cause you got a sympathy nod from the only guy that mattered in the circle.
Another person took the spotlight, and you tried to show interest in the rest of the people getting their skeletons out of the closet. Deep down you were patiently waiting to hear B.J.'s voice again or have another one-on-one.
He was just as hesitant when his turn came. You watched him recount the shortcomings of his relationship with his son's mother. It was heart-wrenching to see him still deeply affected by it. But there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He was confident that there was someone for him out there and as ridiculous as these activities were, he had to start somewhere.
He softly smiled at you as he sat back down.
When this tedious part ended, there was a short break before the next thing in the list.
You grabbed another drink and used that time to catch up with your friend to chat and compare potential candidates. Your list was short. It had one name only that was made out of two letters.
♥ COOKIE COMPETITION ♥
By the time the third activity rolled around, you had eased up a little into the whole thing at the prospect of getting to spend more time with B.J.
Everyone quieted down and watched the organizers uncover an array of tables draped in bright red tablecloths, packed with trays of sugar cookies alongside all the essential tools for decorating—piping bags filled with colorful icing and tiny bowls brimming with sprinkles of different shapes and colors.
This was your time to shine. Baking in general was something you truly, and your decorating skills had greatly improved recently since you started spending most of your free time dedicated to just doing that.
One of the organizers started pairing up people randomly and setting them in their tables. This activity had a competition element and the couple that decorated more cookies would win a gift card for a dinner in a fancy restaurant downtown. The competitive side of you was already mapping out your strategy before you got to your assigned spot, but all that went away they called up your name after B.J.'s.
“This is your wheelhouse, right?” he said bashfully when you got to your table.
“Kinda.”
“Don't be modest. We got this in the bag.” He gently nudged your elbow with his as you put on your aprons.
“I have something to confess.” He lowered his voice and leaned a little closer so nobody but you could hear him. “You and I together right now is not a coincidence.”
“How so?”
“I might have bribed a certain someone to pair us up.”
“Really? How much did it cost you?”
“Twenty bucks.”
“Hmm, that's how badly you wanna win?”
“What can I say? I don't like losing.” He quipped, throwing another disarming smile before the challenge started.
“Alright, everyone!” A chipper voice boomed through a microphone. “It's time to make things interesting. You have twenty minutes to decorate as many cookies as you can. Speed and creativity counts. Unfinished or broken cookies won’t count. Ready… Go!”
All the couples promptly began to decorate. B.J. picked up a pastry bag and turned to you.
“Alright, coach. What's the play?”
You laughed. “Divide and conquer. I outline, you fill.”
“Sounds like football.”
“Except with sugar.”
BJ was all confident, but the second you passed the first outlined heart-shaped cookie to his side, as he started squeezing, a thick clump of icing oozed out unevenly, spilling all over the edges.
“Don't worry, it happens to all the guys their first time.” You snorted, unable to hold yourself and patted his back before showing him how to do it.
He shook his head and followed your lead. He quickly got the hang of it, and then you were off to the races.
“See? You’re a fast learner,” you told him, eying his work while you diligently laid out cookie after cookie with practiced ease.
“Or maybe I just have a good teacher.”
Ten minutes in, you’ve hit your rhythm. Once you had a heap of cookies covered in icing, you quickly assorted another bag with a different tip to add some flourish to your cookies.
“Do you think we have time for that?”
“They said creativity counts.” You shrugged and spent some time adding some easy shapes and words on the cookies while B.J. sprinkled them.
The pace picked up as you were reaching the last few minutes. Icing bags were squeezed dry, sprinkles were flying, people were groaning in frustration, but you and B.J. were solid.
Three minutes left, you counted the stack in your tray— 23 cookies and two casualties that were put aside in shame.
“We can fix that,” he said.
“We?”
“Okay, you can. I’ll just keep not screwing up.”
Huffing, you pushed through, finishing three more just before the timer buzzed.
As they made a final count, you caught BJ staring at you.
“What? Do I have some in my face?”
He lifted a finger and smeared some pink icing on the tip of your nose.
“You do now.”
Oh, it was on.
You couldn't help but smile and watched him as you gathered the icing with your thumb and licked it clean slowly with your lips, leaving him speechless.
“And the winners are, with twenty-six cookies…” they interrupted your little moment, and you both turned your heads to see as they proclaimed you and him as the winning team.
B.J. lifted his hands in the air, offering two high-fives up to you that you slapped fast with both your hands, finding your fingers lacing with his for a moment before giving him a quick hug.
♥ LAST DANCE ♥
There was another break while they took away the tables. BJ excused himself to the bathroom, while you met with your ever shit-eating grinning friend.
“I see you're having fun.” She teased with a wink as you took off your apron. “B.J. huh? All he did was talk about his kid with me.”
“He’s sweet.”
“I’m not saying he isn’t. I just didn’t click with him. But you on the other hand… you’re going to dinner with him?”
“Those are the rules.” You showed her proudly the gift car you’ve just gotten and then tucked it in your pocket.
“Well, maybe you should thank me for that.”
“Thank you,” you uttered with sarcasm, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You both laughed as the lights were suddenly dimmed into a more intimate setting, bathing the room in a soft red hue. The disco ball overhead started spinning, scattering tiny silver reflections across the walls as they explained the next activity.
The rules were simple—pick a random person, dance, and every time the music stopped, switched partners. The idea was to dance with as many people as you could, and at the end two people would be chosen randomly to win a voucher for five ballroom dancing lessons with the partner of their choosing.
At that point, the prize incentive didn’t matter cause there was only one person in the room you wanted to dance with. And judging by the way B.J. was already searching for you from across the room, it seemed like he had the same mindset.
He beckoned you to meet him in the middle.
“Stay close,” he said, “don’t let anyone steal you away, alright?”
“I’ll try.”
Both of you subtly drifted toward the edge of the dance floor, away from the chaos in the center.
The music started with a mid-tempo track with an easy rhythm. Staring at each other, you both awkwardly started moving your feet without really touching.
Two minutes in, the sound stopped and everyone shuffled to find another partner. But you, however, simply spun on your heels, feigning surprise as you accidentally bumped into B.J. Again.
“Oh, fancy seeing you here,” you teased.
He chuckled. “Pure coincidence.”
The next song was slower. You hesitated for a beat before settling your hands on his shoulders. His palms, warm and steady, followed your lead and framed your waist. You licked your lips and forced yourself to stare directly into his eyes as you started swaying gently to the music.
“I’m glad I came here,” he said softly.
“Me too.” Your lips drew a smile as he leaned a little closer.
Your heart was suddenly racing when his cheek tenderly brushed your face. Ever so lovely, you moved together to the sound. One of your hands slid up the curve of his shoulder to feel the warmth of his neck. The hairs at the back of his nape buzzed as your fingers lightly danced over his skin.
The music came to a halt again, but you didn't part this time.
“Hey, lovebirds, you’re supposed to switch with other people.” Your friend came in closer to break the spell.
You cleared your throat and pulled away from him reluctantly.
“I thought it was more of a suggestion,” B.J. countered before the next song went off.
An upbeat track started playing—a salsa. Resigned to keep up till the end, you let B.J. spin you around as he took the lead. Neither of you knew how to do it but the enthusiasm of his hips coming dangerously closer to yours gave you the push to set yourself free and dance carelessly along, even if you felt a little off beat.
Heat building up to the rhythm, you found your body pressed fully against his, as you linked your arms around his neck. His hands firmly wandered to the curve of your hips and squeezed as you kept swinging, brazenly grinding against him. His warmth breath caressed your jaw as he brought his mouth closer to your ear to whisper how beautiful you were. The sweet intent of his voice almost made you trip on your own feet. You couldn't possibly say anything other than a word soup mumble that he probably couldn't hear over the music.
The grip in your hip and the hot exhalation printed on your neck elevated the intensity of the moment to a new degree. The magnetic pull between you two was palpable, scolding hot as you rubbed your bodies together. You had to stop all of a sudden before it went too far. As much as you loved this, you couldn’t possibly bear the thought of doing something you could regret.
Drawing a breath, you glanced at his bowed lips and fought the urge of sealing them shut.
“I need some air. You wanna get out of here?”
He simply nodded and followed you outside the venue after gathering your coats.
“Sorry, it was getting too…” You trailed off, buttoning your coat as the cold air of February put an end to the warmth of your body.
“Intense?” He suggested.
“Yeah.” You scoffed, letting your breath manifest in the air. You looked to the side to see him tuck his hands in his pockets as you confessed. “I like you… but you seem too good to be true. I’ve been fooled so many times that I don’t think I can trust myself right now.”
“Hey, look, I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I like you too. I didn’t expect to get anything out of this but here we are. We could just agree to keep talking, getting to know each other. No rush. No expectations. And if there’s something more there—great. If not, worst case scenario we could end up being friends.”
B.J. paused and glanced at you for a moment, conjuring something in his head.
“What do you say we grab a coffee before calling it a night?”
You hesitated for a second, still trying to gather your thoughts about the whole thing. The idea of sitting somewhere warm, of drawing out this night just a little longer was tempting.
“Yeah, I’d be down for that.” You finally said.
♥ SALTY & SWEET ♥
The streetlights reflected his beaming face as you took off together down the street to find a decent place nearby.
“There’s a good diner a couple of blocks away. Or we could find one of those spots that charge six bucks for a cappuccino if you prefer that.”
You snorted. “Diner sounds good.”
You walked quietly and when you got to the diner, it was nearly filled with people, mostly couples that probably decided to go out last minute and this was the only place available without reservation. It was a lovely place though, decorated for the occasion. The warm scent of fresh brewed coffee warmed your nose as you took a seat in the free corner booth after shrugging off your coat. B.J. sat across from you once again, but this time there was no timer to measure the length of your conversation.
You picked up a laminated menu as the waitress came over with carafe in hand. B.J. turned over one of the cups and thanked the waitress as she filled his cup with steaming black coffee.
“What’s your order, sweetheart?”
“I’d have a hot chocolate, and maybe a side of fries. I don’t know why, but I have a craving for fries right now.”
“You’re speaking my language.” B.J. smirked, leaning back against the seat, then turned to the waitress. “We’ll have a large side of fries, please.”
“You got it.” She gave a half nod and went back behind the counter to collect your order.
“So,” he breathed out, watching you carefully. “Feeling better?”
You nodded, propping your elbows on the edge of the table. “Yeah. I think I just needed to get out there. Don’t get me wrong, I was having fun. But I wasn’t really feeling the place.”
“Yeah, me neither.” He brought the brim of his cup cautiously up to his mouth to take a sip.
“This is much better.”
“Definitely.” He agreed as the waitress brought over your chocolate. You wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic mug to warm up your hands and waited till your side of fries arrived at the table as well.
This place felt more like your element. No pressure, no dumb activities forced upon you, just you and him, some delicious chocolate mixed with salty fries and good conversation. His openness to talk about anything was refreshing. His clear, unabashed determination when he talked about his son was straight up lovely. The idea of dating a single dad never crossed your mind; relationships are complicated enough, add a kid to the mix and everything doubles down. It's not something that fazed you too much at that point of your life. If you and B.J.were meant to be something more, you'd make it work. You had a good feeling about him, but that was thinking too far ahead. You had to keep yourself anchored to the present, you couldn't rush or romanticize something without building a solid ground first and on that dinner you felt your feet nervously bouncing on a steady layer of checkered tiles.
When there were three fries left on the plate and the conversation slowed down, you realized his hand was holding yours in the middle of the table; his thumb gently rubbed over your knuckles, making your skin stick up.
“Am I making you nervous?” his head tilted to the side, trying to get a hold of your stare.
“Yeah, a little.” You confessed, glancing at your joined hands and then back at him. “But it feels good.”
“Yeah? You don't think it's weird or too soon?”
You shook your head and smiled softly. “It's just perfect.”
♥ GOODNIGHT… ♥
B.J. offered to walk you to your car that was parked a few blocks away, closer to the venue where you two met. This time it was you that took the initiative of linking your fingers with his in the quiet stroll back. The city hummed around you but you and him seemed to be walking in a different world. There was a buzzing energy in that link of your hands, an unspoken exchange of anticipation you could feel palm to palm. His hand squeezed a little tighter and you squeezed back.
When you spotted your car, you were almost sorry this night was about to end.
As you reached the door to the passenger seat, you turned to face him, your hands still loosely linked. His eyes were darker under the glow of a streetlamp nearby. For a second, you thought he might say something, but he just sighted and stared at you for a long moment as you bit your lip.
You should say goodnight. You should let go. But neither of you moved.
It seemed like there was a barrier you both wanted to cross but neither of you were brave enough to break it. It was daunting, but you couldn't fight the strong urge of leaning closer and capture his lips ever so softly. As you pulled back from that tentative peck, heat quickly rose to your cheeks, fighting the chill in the air. He smiled at you before responding with another kiss. This time, his lips slightly parted against yours. He cradled the back of your head and after a beat, you both started moving your mouths slowly together, testing the waters before fully diving in. Your head spun along the sweet undoing of his tongue that carefully swept past your lips. Closing your eyes, you clung your hands to his sides to anchor yourself in that spot. Both of you gave up easily to that electric pull of sudden desire that kept your tongues silently speaking. The lock of your lips was warm and tender at the beginning, the more he gave you the more you wanted. The hunger got the best of you and by the time you realized it, they were burning with an unbridled desire you hadn't felt in ages. You weren't only kissing back, you were literally carving the shape of your mouth on his until your lungs ached for lack of oxygen.
Your eyes fluttered open before you broke the kiss to see B.J. was just as breathless, his lips were visibly more plump and pink than when you started.
“Wow,” he said, letting his forehead rest against yours as the palm that was placed on your nape moved to hold your jaw. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah.” You agreed, unable to form a coherent thought as his thumb rubbed softly on your cheek.
“We should do it again sometime.”
“It’s a date.”