Her Cherry

by Bloom, Penelope

  I couldn’t help narrowing my eyes and wondering as I looked at it. Everything else in here was something I’d taken because in some small way, the owner had pissed me off. Maybe it was my futile attempt at balancing the universe, or whatever, or maybe I just enjoyed pissing off people who deserved it more. The vase was different.

  Cherry hadn’t pissed me off. On the contrary, I liked her. She had a kind of undersexed, repressed, bumbling librarian vibe that I could get behind—literally or figuratively. She was hot, too, which helped, and not the boring kind of hot. I attracted the boring kind of hot like Starbucks attracted girls in yoga pants. Like an army of barbies with gym-perfected asses and faces that had never seen a drop of sunlight unless it was behind some SPF two-hundred sunscreen. Most of them had one hobby: themselves. They took care of themselves and curated their bodies like it was a full-time job, which was all well and good from a distance, but I’d tried dating my share of them. They were all the same.

  Boring. Predictable. Shallow.

  The baker girl, though. She was the kind of girl that got me interested. I’d seen the internal struggle plain as day on her face. She liked what she saw, but she was smart enough to see I was an asshole. In other words, she was a challenge. Sign me up.

  Leaving my card had felt a little desperate. I normally liked letting women come to me, but something about her made me want to take an extra step, because I wasn’t so sure she’d come tracking me down if I didn’t give her a nudge. I liked that about her. I even broke my normal routine with the secretary cold shoulder treatment when I took her call.

  I wasn’t even so sure she’d end up at the party tonight. That was up to her. At the end of the day, I knew where to find her, and if my gut was right about her, the flowers weren’t the last thing I wanted to take from her. There was something else that’d be the cherry on top—or between her legs, if you wanted to get specific.

  3

  Hailey

  If second thoughts were when you had to stop and ask yourself if something was a good idea twice, I was having two thousandth thoughts by the time my cab pulled up outside the venue where William’s party was being held. “Two thousandth thoughts” didn’t quite have the same ring to it, but second thoughts didn’t seem severe enough to contain all the doubts I had.

  I wanted to go. I knew that much. The proud, stubborn part of me wanted to put him through his paces, or prove to him that I wasn’t one of those girls who goes chasing after pretty guys.

  But hey, this was a once in a lifetime kind of party invite. I’d also always, always had a deep-seeded fantasy about going to a masquerade party. I think it was the masks and the fancy clothes. Everyone would be wearing masks and tuxedos and gorgeous dresses. There would be a sea of sparkling sequins and jewelry everywhere I looked. The night would be glitter and glitz, like something straight out of a Hollywood fantasy. It’d be the kind of night I could stash away forever, a bright spot of light in a night sky full of dull, faded stars.

  For a night, I could pretend my life was the sort of life I’d always watched from a distance, where the air was filled with promise and every little choice could lead to something incredible. Ultimately, that had been the line of thought that won out. I’d take my fairytale night, thank you very much, and William was secondary. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

  I picked up my outfit on a budget after work, including the mask, which I hadn’t been able to find in a thrift shop like the dress and shoes. I had to brave one of those party stores that inexplicably manage to stay open year-round, even though I was pretty sure people only went in them for Halloween costumes.

  The girl behind the counter had given me quite the look when I set down the mask, like she’d seen the movie Eyes Wide Shut and thought that was the only reason someone would buy a mask. Well, screw her. I was going to a fancy schmancy party where movie stars and billionaires were going be strolling around like it was no big deal. And, as far as I knew, there was no cult of naked, orgy loving people in the basement. Make that my two thousandth and first thought. If I saw any signs of orgy cults, I was going to use my heels like clubs and fight my way out. That was the tentative plan, at least, assuming no better weapons were available.

  I was expecting a burly bodyguard to be waiting out front, but the address he gave me was just a building in the middle of downtown. I stepped out of the cab and looked around. It was already past nine in the evening. In New York City, the streets always seemed to bustle no matter the time of day. If anything, it came alive at night.

  I almost thought I had the wrong place until I saw a limo pull up and a small party of men and women in suits, elegant dresses, and masks all filed out. The men wore simple, phantom of the opera style masks that mostly only covered their eyes and half of their noses. The women wore everything from feathery, ostentatious masks to lacy, delicate pieces that hardly concealed their faces.

  I adjusted my simple, two dollar mask that was held to my face with cheap elastic straps. Oh well. Rich people paid a lot of money to look poor, right? It wasn't my fault I knew the fast-track method to dress poor: dump all your money into a bakery that barely pulled enough business to pay the bills. Sometimes I spent money on silly things like food and water, too.

  I straightened my back, put on a brave face, and waltzed right toward the front door like I belonged. I’d seen enough heist movies to know the trick was just pretending you knew what you were doing. I got to the door before the party in the limo, and when I tried to yank the doors open, they didn’t budge. I spared a quick glance over my shoulder, flashed a, this happens all the time, because I come here all the time, kind of smile. Then I yanked again. Still nothing.

  I stepped back and flipped my palm up, laughing a little nervously. “Guess we’re too early,” I suggested.

  One of the men walked up to the door and pushed. It swung right open, and I had to stand there while their entire party walked by smugly.

  I let them all pass, blew out a breath, and pressed the mental restart switch. “No big deal, Hailey. You’re wearing a mask, right? Free pass to be a doofus all night!”

  And then I saw another couple passing me who had probably heard every word of my pep talk. I tapped my ear, where there definitely wasn't a Bluetooth, but turned my body and gave them a smile. "Bluetooth," I said confidently. "Hands-free talking, always looks like you're talking to yourself."

  The couple just walked by like I hadn’t said a word.

  I hadn’t even stepped inside the door and the old “reset button” was already getting a workout. I pushed the doors open and headed inside. “Assholes,” I muttered to the doors when I was sure nobody would overhear this time. The lobby was quiet, with the kind of fancy flooring that made the clicking of my heels sound like gunshots. I tried to soften my steps, failed, and approached a woman who stood behind a thin, hostess style podium. A pair of massive doors loomed behind her.

  “I was invited,” I said, once the people in front of me had their names confirmed on the list and were let inside.

  “Okay,” said the woman. She wasn’t in costume, which meant I didn’t have to guess if she was looking at me like I was an idiot.

  “I should be on the list as... Cherry.” I said the name in a near whisper, cheeks flushing. Somewhere, William was laughing, I was sure.

  Her eyebrow arched. “Cherry?”

  “Could you just—” I arched my neck to try to get a glimpse at her list. She snatched it up protectively, giving me a cold glare.

  She took her sweet time peeling her eyes from me and looking down at the list. After a few seconds, she let out a disappointed little grunt. “Go on then, Cherry.”

  “Thank you,” I said a little steamily. “I’ll have fun in the party, by the way, while you’re out here with your stupid little podium.”

  “Totally jealous,” she said dryly.

  I couldn’t believe I stooped to saying that, but the woman was almost as horrible as the one I’d had to deal with on the phone when I call
ed the number on William’s card. In fact… I was almost positive she was the same woman from the phone. Manning the doors at a company party might fall under the secretary job duties.

  I walked past her and gave the doors a gentle, experimental tug to make sure they weren’t push doors too. Thankfully, they swung open for me.

  The party inside was more impressive than I'd ever imagined. The room was a kind of industrial chic with exposed brick, support beams, and ultra-modern furniture, including a wrought-iron spiral staircase, complete with an open-style second floor where dozens of people were dancing and talking. The most impressive feature was the far wall, which was completely glass, with a view of Central Park and the twinkling skyline.

  And then there were the party goers. Even with masks, I could tell they were the elite of the elite. It was a grown-up version of a high school party where only the most popular kids were invited—exactly the kind of party I was never invited to.

  I scanned the crowd of well-dressed, masked men and women, wondering if I’d even be able to recognize William from the few moments I’d had to gawk at him this morning. I didn’t start comparing myself to all the sleek women with huge breasts and perfect bodies, either, as hard as it was. The man invited me here. Obviously he liked something he saw. At least that was what I kept telling myself.

  The music was just upbeat enough to dance to, but not so wild that it didn’t feel somehow like a perfect fit for the wealthy elite. Partygoers drank wine and champagne out of glasses with long, delicate stems. Some danced, some lounged with drinks, and others moved about the party, laughing and mingling. Everywhere I looked seemed to sparkle with glitter, jewelry, and sequins, just as I’d imagined. I thought maybe a drink would take some of the nerves out, so I made it my mission to find where everyone was getting them.

  I eventually stumbled upon what seemed to be an open bar. There were glasses of champagne just sitting there. I took one, waited, looked around, and cautiously took a sip. When nobody came yelling at me or asking for money, I concluded they were free. Score.

  With my drink in hand, I headed for the stairs. I still hadn’t decided if I was even going to try to talk to William, but I did at least want to see if I could spot him. When I turned around, a man was towering over me. Butterflies exploded in my stomach as I turned, expecting to see William.

  But when I took in the jaw, the lips, the build and the stance, something uneasy stirred in me. I took a half-step back. It wasn’t William.

  “Nathan?” I asked hesitantly.

  He smirked. The sight of that cruel smirk was all the answer I needed. Nathan Peters. The ex from hell. The reason I got so, so much pleasure out of kicking my old college textbook from time to time. The guy who went from just a little boring and disappointing to the poster boy for stalkers when I broke things off.

  “You’re supposed to be in Vermont.”

  “Got a new job offer. Figured it was in your neck of the woods, and how could I pass that up?”

  “Pretty easily, if you didn’t want to seem like a stalker,” I said. I tried to weave a little calm into my voice, even though it felt like I was screaming on the inside.

  “I missed you, Hailey. We were so fucking good together.”

  I shook my head. It was too much to take in all at once, and I wasn’t about to have this conversation with him. Not again. I tried to walk around him, to head for the stairs, but he grabbed my arm.

  “Hailey. Come on. I came a long way to talk to you, the least you can do is hear me out.”

  “No. That’s not the least I could do. I’m not even going to ask how the hell you knew I’d be here, or how you got in, or anything. Because asking would mean I cared about you in any capacity. So I’m going to actually do the least I can do and walk away without giving you another thought.”

  “It wasn’t hard. I know where you always get your lunch, and I happened to be passing by when I saw you with your head down. You looked so interested in something, so I took a glance. You had a card from the CEO of Galleon Enterprises, of all people. I doubted you could afford a fortune 500 marketing company, so I put two and two together.”

  “What, and then you followed me all day? Stalked me while I bought supplies for this and then raced to buy your own? How did you even get through the front door?”

  “I didn’t. I used the back door,” he said, smiling like he thought I was going to applaud his ingenuity.

  My stomach knotted. His creepiness seeped into me like poison, and for a minute, I thought I might be sick.

  “I’ve tried putting it nicely, Nathan. It didn’t work out. You’ve got to let it go. Please.” So much for a magical, sparkling night.

  I tried to pull my arm free, but he just gripped it harder and pulled me toward him. I put my whole body into yanking away and felt the first real threads of panic run through me.

  A man emerged from between a group of masked party-goers beside us and put his hand on Nathan’s wrist. He must’ve squeezed hard, because Nathan’s hand went limp on my arm and fell away.

  “Usually,” said the man in a voice I recognized immediately. “When a girl starts trying to pull away from you, it means they want you to let go.” The perfect jawline, full lips, and tousled hair would’ve given him away as William even without the voice. There was no mistaking who my masked savior was.

  “Usually, it’s a good idea to mind your own goddamn business,” Nathan said. He squared up with William, who had an inch or two of height on him, even though Nathan had always seemed so tall to me.

  “What kind of guy carries around peppermints?” William did a surprisingly skillful flourish with his hand and held up two peppermints between his fingers.

  I was confused until I saw Nathan start patting his pockets. He looked up sharply at William and tried to snatch the mints away, but William closed his hand and slid them in his pocket.

  “Look, asshole,” said Nathan. “How about you just let me and my girl talk, and you fuck off. You can keep the mints.”

  “Your girl?” asked William, who turned his head slightly to look toward me for the first time. His lips twitched in the faintest smile, like he was letting me in on the joke. “I should tell you. I deflowered her this morning. Actually, I even paid for her cherry. Delicious, by the way,” he said with a little nod to me.

  Despite the pulsing fear in my chest, I had to stifle a laugh.

  Nathan’s arms shot out and gripped the front of William’s tux in two tight balls. William didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, looking down at Nathan with that same, calm, amused smile.

  “Actually…” William fished out the mints from his pocket and put them back in Nathan’s. “I understand why you’re carrying around mints now.”

  “What?” asked Nathan.

  “Your breath.”

  Nathan clamped his mouth shut and kept glaring at William. I wasn’t sure if he was going to try to actually swing at him, or if he was just racking his brain for a way to get out of this without looking any sillier than he already did.

  “Screw it,” he said finally, letting William go. “Look, Hailey. I know me showing up here probably makes me look like a stalker.”

  “I don’t know the whole story,” interrupted William. “But if you have to say ‘I know this probably makes me look like a stalker,’ then chances are, it does.”

  “Nobody asked you, asshole,” Nathan spat before he turned his attention back to me. “The point is, I miss you. I hate how things turned out, and I’m really hoping you’ll give me another chance.”

  “How many ways can I say it?” I asked, feeling drained of energy.

  “Move along, stalker.” William started pushing Nathan away by the shoulder. “You got to give your little speech. She’s obviously not wanting to talk about it now. I’m sure she has your number, so she can call you if she changes her mind, but you need to go.”

  Nathan put up a weak fight as William moved him away from me and motioned for a guy by the exit to come escort him out. />
  It felt like all I could do was stand there and watch. I couldn’t believe Nathan had come all this way just for a second chance. Then again, I also couldn’t believe William had swooped in to play the knight in shining armor like that.

  William returned a few seconds later and gave a little bow. Strange energy stirred in me—as if something mischievous and fun had been trapped deep in my brain, just waiting for a chance to escape all this time. Apparently, my mask wasn't doing anything in the way of anonymity. Both William and Nathan hadn't seemed to have any trouble recognizing me, but I still felt different while I wore it. Maybe the gentle buzz I already had from the glass of champagne, but all the nervousness I'd felt before was a distant thought now. I wanted to put the trouble with Nathan out of my mind. I still wanted this to be my fairytale night, and he wasn't going to rob that from me.

  I was going to have fun.

  “Don’t look so proud of yourself,” I said, surprised by how confident my voice sounded. “Next time you want to play white knight, you probably should try not to be such a dick in the process.”

  His lips twitched up at the corners. “Was my dick showing?”

  My eyes inadvertently trailed down toward his waist, but I snapped them back up to the white mask he wore over his eyes. “Figuratively speaking,” I said, “Yes. And now you’ve also proven that you can’t make it through a conversation without trying to spin some dirty joke out of it. I’ll give you three points for maturity.”