Under The Cherry Blossoms

by Amali Rose

  As we approach, I practically drink Ben in from across the room. He has his phone out and is examining it with a serious expression on his face until his lips quirk with a small smirk that brings out a mischievous gleam in his dark brown eyes. It’s noticeable even from this distance. His carelessly tousled brown hair, paired with the dark denim jeans and black dress shirt he’s wearing is the perfect combination of casual and care. When we near the table, Ben notices us approach and unfolds his six-foot-plus frame out of his chair and with a grin spreading across his gorgeous face, he reaches out to greet me, seeming to not even notice the blonde beauty beside me, and pulls me into a warm hug.

  “Finally.”

  I laugh lightly, acknowledging my reluctance to meet in person, while subtly breathing in the scent of his cologne which manages to be both spicy and sweet at the same time.

  “It’s great to finally meet you too. This place seems wonderful, you did good!”

  “Thanks. I have to admit, my friend Mason recommended it, but it really is perfect, isn’t it?” Ben smiles as though recollecting something. “He’s a total workaholic, but it means he knows all the best restaurants from all his business meetings, so I keep him around.”

  A laugh escapes me as I settle back into my chair and we sit staring at each other. The air is suddenly tinged with self-consciousness and we both seem to be at a loss as to what to say, so the silence stretches. Dread settles in my stomach as all my fears seem to be coming to fruition.

  We both speak simultaneously. “I hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place.”

  “So, were you able to sort out the issues at work?”

  And just like that, the tension dissipates as we both share a soft laugh over the absurdity of our nervousness.

  This one moment seems to bring us to our senses and we launch into conversation, talking about everything from our favorite music and foods (him: The Rolling Stones/pizza, me: Taylor Swift/lasagna) to our political beliefs (both of us: they’re all hopeless and we’re screwed). The night flies by in a blur of laughter, good alcohol and even better conversation. My heart ratchets up every time Ben smirks at me and while our conversation has been fun and easy for the most part, he has thrown enough suggestive comments my way for me to know that that mouth of his is trouble. The kind of trouble that makes my thighs clench in anticipation.

  The check is being brought over before I know it and I can’t help wishing the night didn’t have to be over.

  “How about we share an Uber home?” Ben asks as he pulls out his phone and brings up the app.

  “Perfect,” I reply, thinking how well this night has turned out and how grateful I am that I took the chance and didn’t chicken out.

  By the time we have finished inside the restaurant, the Uber is outside waiting. Climbing in, we circle back to our heated discussion about the best movies of all time, both of us passionately defending our choices.

  “Dirty Dancing is a classic. A true classic!” I exclaim. “There are millions, hell maybe even billions, of people who can quote it. Who can quote The Big Lebowski?”

  “Fuck it, Dude. Let’s go bowling,” Ben throws back at me.

  Wait, what? Is he asking me out again? My eyes widen and I’m not really sure how to respond. His brown eyes are warm and a smile is playing on his full lips as he watches me, and suddenly I forget all about my pro Dirty Dancing arguments. Right now, the only thing I want to debate is his place or mine.

  “The Big Lebowski.” This highly unromantic statement brings me back to earth with a crash, and I try to regain my wits and remember what he was saying.

  “That’s a quote from The Big Lebowski. So, you see, plenty of people can quote it.” He looks at me with a cocky little smirk that makes me want to roll my eyes. Smartass.

  I look out the window as the car comes to a stop and realize we’ve arrived.

  “Consider yourself lucky we’re here,” I say as we climb out of the car. “I was just about to launch into a medley of all the hits from one of the most iconic soundtracks of all time. You know, from the best movie of all time.” He clutches his chest and pulls a face of devastation.

  “Oh. No. However will I survive?” he retorts in a monotone voice. “I’m sure the bleeding ears would have been so much fun.” I laugh at his response, and am trying to come up with a smart comeback when he continues, “but we could always finish this next week? I’ve never had a girl serenade me before. I think you have to agree to see me again just so I can tick that off my bucket list.”

  I smile a huge, completely not-playing-it-cool smile.

  “I’d like that, let’s do it. Although, be prepared, because I am a truly horrible singer.”

  “I doubt anything your mouth does would be horrible,” Ben replies as he leans down, slanting his mouth over mine. Reaching up, he slides his hand into my hair and tugs firmly, repositioning my head so he is able to deepen the kiss. I feel a rush of heat spread through my body as his tongue wrestles with mine, and I can’t help but wonder if it will be as skilled when exploring other parts of my body. I feel myself get lost in Ben’s touch, the pull on my hair, the way his tongue slides against mine. This kiss is unlike any I’ve experienced before but also so familiar, as if I’ve been kissing this man all my life. Then, as suddenly as it started, the kiss is over and Ben is walking back toward the car. As he bends down to get in, he looks back and says, “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? Now, head inside so I know you got in safely.”

  I smile and retort, “So bossy.”

  And as I turn to unlock the door, I hear him reply, “You’ll get used to it.”

  I roll my eyes and head inside with a smile on my face.

  “Skye fucking Emery! Wakey wakey!”

  I’m dragged ruthlessly from my slumbering oblivion by the sound of kitchen cupboards slamming and a screeching voice intent on rousing me awake. Refusing to give in to these terrorist tactics, I roll over and stick my head under my pillow. Cassidy will not be thwarted however, and the next thing I know she is body slamming me into the mattress with a maniacal laugh.

  “Skyballs! C’mon! I need all the details! Did he pound your pussy? Batter dip the corn dog? Did you do the boom boom? Tell me everything!”

  I move the pillow away and throw a what-the-fuck look over my shoulder.

  “Oh my god, Cass, what is wrong with you? Batter dip the corn dog? Seriously? And I want my key back, you jerk.” Her only response is a loud laugh which stops as suddenly as it started while she throws me her infamous puppy-dog eyes.

  “Skye. I don’t mean to alarm you, but you have no food in the place. You need to take me out and feed me.”

  Groaning, I crane my neck to see the alarm clock and note that it’s only 8:15 in the morning.

  “Cassidy Jensen, I know for a fact that there is a kitchen full of food in there. And what the hell are you doing out of bed before 10am on a Saturday morning?”

  “Nope, there’s only healthy shit in there, I want pancakes. And I’m up because my pathetic excuse for a best friend never messaged me last night to tell me how her date with the man-meat went. Now get your ass up, you’re taking me to Monroe’s.”

  I stare at the ceiling, silently debating whether I want to humor her or kick her butt out when she makes the decision for me, lifting the mattress and watching as I tumble to the ground with a loud, “oomph.”

  “Now, Skyballs.” And she walks out my bedroom door without a backward glance.

  As we walk down the steps to the sidewalk, Cassidy links her arm in mine and we start the three-block walk toward Monroe’s, our favorite diner.

  “So, seriously babes, how did it go?” She squeezes my arm reassuringly and waits me out, knowing that I need a minute to verbalize my thoughts.

  “It was good, Cass. Really good. I mean, a bit awkward to begin with, but once we had a laugh over how ridiculous it was to be so nervous, the ice was broken and it felt just like talking to him online.”

  “But…” Cassidy prods me.


  I pause as I decide how to continue. When Ben drove away last night I was on a high. Almost drunk on the giddy feeling his kiss had left me with. It wasn’t until later when I was lying in bed alone, that I realized the night had not ended the way I had planned. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  Monroe’s appears up ahead and my stomach grumbles almost instinctively. “Let’s eat and then talk, yeah? I may need to drown my sorrows in some maple syrup.”

  “Maple syrup? Fuck yeah!” Cassidy picks up speed, dragging me through the entrance.

  I glance around the bustling diner looking for an empty seat when our friend Wyatt, who also happens to be our favorite waitress, rushes past and calls out over her shoulder, “Free booth down at the very back!” I throw her a grateful smile and we head in the direction she indicated.

  Taking a seat, I watch as Cassidy throws herself into the booth like an excited toddler and snatches up the menu.

  “Why do you even bother? We both know you’re going to get pancakes with ice cream, maple syrup and a side of bacon. It’s what you always get.”

  “Are you insinuating that I’m predictable, Emery?”

  Even the idea of Cassidy being predictable is laughable and I dismiss the idea with a snort.

  “I’m just saying let’s save time and order what we both already know we’re going to get.” With impeccable timing, Wyatt appears, pen poised ready to take our order.

  “Hit me with it, cuties.”

  “Skye finally went out with McSausage last night,” Cassidy replies.

  “Oh my god, how did it go?!” Instead of taking our order, Wyatt is now sitting opposite me with an expectant look on her face. That is, until she gives Cassidy a side-eye look. “Wait, McSausage?”

  “Oh please, we all know he’s too hot not to be packing a huge pork sword.” Turning to me she continues, “Confirm or deny please.”

  Ignoring her, I turn and give my attention to Wyatt. “I’d like French toast please, Wyatt, and the biggest chocolate milkshake you can possibly bring me.”

  Looking between the two of us she seems unsure how to proceed until Cass also gives her order. Wyatt sighs and gets up, ready to walk away. “You owe me details, Skylah!” Then she races off, hopefully to put in our orders.

  “Okay, Balls, talk,” Cassidy demands.

  Cringing inwardly at the use of this particular nickname, I opt for the direct route and reply, “We didn’t fuck.”

  “Right. Okay. Well that blows. I mean, not literally, obviously, but you know what I mean. You said it went well though, does it matter if you didn’t belly bump?”

  “But that was the whole point of this, right? To get intimate with something other than my own hand? I couldn’t even seal the deal, I mean, he didn’t even try!”

  Cassidy sighs emphatically and I can feel every bit of her frustration in that deep exhalation.

  “Talk me through this, Skye, because from what I’m understanding, you’ve met a nice, smart, hot guy who is actually into you. Who hasn’t messed you around at all in the month that you’ve known him. A guy that had to chase you down before you would actually meet him. But he did. He did that for you, and I’m not even joking when I say there’s a part of me that hates you right now. I think he’s one of the good ones, and there’s not many of them around, so I kind of want to tell you to get the fuck over yourself and just go with it.” Running out of breath as she finishes her spiel, Cassidy slumps forward onto the table dramatically.

  I try to quiet the noise in my head that her speech created and figure out how to put my thoughts into words. I know it doesn’t make sense. I’m the girl who reads the romance novels. The one who tells my friends to never give up on love because their happy ending is out there and I absolutely, wholeheartedly believe that. For some reason though, I can’t have that same faith in myself. I watched my father walk out when I was thirteen years old and I swear it almost broke me. The man that was supposed to love me more than anyone, walked out that door and he didn’t look back, not even once. I’m not sure I could survive that again.

  “I don’t need him to be one of the good ones, Cass. I need him to bend me over a table and fuck me until I black out.” And in a case of the worst possible timing, a guy in his early twenties walking past stops in his tracks and, as if in slow motion, turns to look at us. Leaning down, he offers me his hand and says, “Hi, I’m Michael, might I be of some assistance?”

  “No, you might not be, Creepy McPervert! Move along,” Cassidy spits out as I feel my face turn a distinct shade of red. I’ll just die now, shall I? “Well, Emery, look on the bright side,” Cassidy offers, taking in my beet red face. “At least you know you have options available.” I can’t control the laugh that escapes as she waggles her eyebrows at me.

  “I’m not quite that desperate – yet. Okay, here’s the deal. I like Ben a lot. Like a lot a lot. But, I don’t want to like him. I want to bang him, scratch my little itch and then go back to my life where I’m at no risk of being hurt. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for.” My phone vibrates on the table but I ignore it as I await Cassidy's reply. I’m pretty sure I know what to expect, she’s been fairly consistent in her disapproval of my attitude towards love all these years, but you never know, today might be the day she gets on board. But as I look across the table and into her bright blue eyes, I’m shocked by the sadness they hold.

  “Babes, I love you. You are probably my favorite person in the entire world. You deserve to be so happy that I wanna puke at the amount of sun you’re shining. Not every guy is going to hurt you, and even if they do, fuck them. You, babes, are a fucking warrior and you will survive it. You need to take chances though. Risk your heart a little bit. The payoff could be so incredible. You could find your person. And fifty years from now, when you’re old and gray and your tits are hanging by your knees, are you really going to regret the chances you took? Or the ones that you let pass by?”

  I feel the sting of tears as I process her words. Cassidy has experienced the devastation of heartbreak first hand and I know she’s talking straight from the heart. The fact that she still opens herself up to the possibility of love makes her one of the most courageous people I know as far as I’m concerned, and I decide right here and now, to try to be as brave as she is.

  “I promise not to act rashly, okay? I promise to give this a real chance and not just act out of fear. That’s the best I can do.”

  Cassidy reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Well then, babes, that’s all I expect from you.”

  Wyatt appears suddenly, plates in hand, and the air of gravity that had gripped us lifts. She slides our food along the table and plops herself down next to Cassidy.

  “So, what are we talking about?” she enquires enthusiastically. My green eyes meet Cassidy’s blue ones across the table and we reply in unison, “How ‘bout them Mets?”

  “Fuckers.” She sighs as she reaches across and steals a piece of bacon from Cassidy's plate.

  A few hours later, I am safely ensconced on my sofa, binge watching The Bachelor when I remember the missed text from earlier and pull my phone out to read it.

  BEN: Last night was fun.

  SKYE: It definitely was.

  BEN: It was hard saying goodbye, literally *wink*

  SKYE: *groan*

  SKYE: You didn’t have to say goodbye.

  BEN: I was trying to be a gentleman.

  BEN: Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.

  SKYE: Lol!

  BEN: I think, next time, I’d like to end the night with my face buried between your legs.

  Oh, my holy shit. My face flames and my heart pounds at the image of Ben’s head dipping between my thighs. Well, I did promise Cassidy I would give this a chance, right?

  SKYE: I’ll look forward to that.

  Sunday

  BEN: How adventurous are you?

  SKYE: Is this a sex question? Because you really need to work on your subtlety if it is.

  BEN: LMAO. No, it�
�s not a sex question.

  SKYE: Oh, then I guess I am reasonably adventurous. I’d like to think I’d give most things a go.

  BEN: Great.

  BEN: So, if it had been a sex question the answer would’ve been…

  SKYE: Pervert!

  Monday

  BEN: Are you afraid of heights?

  SKYE: No… why?

  BEN: Because I’m going to take you to heaven, baby.

  SKYE: Oh my god *groans*

  BEN: I’m making you cry for god and groan already? I’m better than I thought.

  SKYE: Yeah pretty sure I was groaning because that was one of the lamest things I’ve ever heard.

  BEN: That’s okay, when I’m using my tongue to explore every inch of your body, marking you with my teeth and finally tasting how sweet you are, I’m sure you won’t think I’m so lame.

  SKYE: ….

  BEN: No comeback?

  SKYE: Sorry my fingers were occupied.

  BEN: Fuck.

  Tuesday

  BEN: I heard a song today and it had a line in it that made me think of you.

  SKYE: Oh yeah? What was the line?

  BEN: I’d love to make you wet.

  SKYE: Aw you’re such a romantic.

  BEN: What could be more romantic than turning my girl on so much that she’s dripping wet for me?

  SKYE: *blushes*

  Wednesday

  SKYE: Thank you so much for the flowers!

  BEN: Did you like them?

  SKYE: I love them so much, they’re stunning!

  BEN: Just like you.

  SKYE: Okay I think I may have just swooned a little lol.

  BEN: Then my job here is done.

  Thursday

  BEN: So, what are your thoughts on hair pulling?

  BEN: Because I can’t get the idea of you on all fours, me pounding into you from behind with a handful of your hair in one fist and a tit in the other, out of my head.