Super Short


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Until a couple hours ago, I thought there wouldn’t be a #SuperShort this Friday either. I’ve had a terrible week; my dad has been very sick and spent several nights in the ICU. For a while, I thought I’d have to jump on a plane and fly to Sweden and see him, in case he wouldn’t…you know. I’ve been so worried and unable to focus on anything. But now he’s actually feeling better and will most likely be released from the hospital this weekend, and suddenly my mind started working again.

So here it is. A little later than usual – to be honest it’s actually Saturday here in Malaysia (it’s a few minutes after midnight) – but better late than never, right?

I’ve used the words that was left to me in the comments two weeks ago: cherry – cupcake – poppycock – bloodshed, and written part 3 of Alan and Jon’s story.

Here are parts 1 and 2 if you need to get up to speed.

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With gentle fingers, I plucked the rose from his hand. “You brought me a flower?”

His cheeks grew even redder and took on the color of cherries. “Um, yeah?”

“Thank you.” I smiled at him, I could practically feel myself beaming like the sun. “It’s beautiful!”

He stepped into the house. “You, uh, like it?”

I nodded eagerly. “No one’s ever bought me flowers before.” I shut the door behind him and led him into the kitchen. I gestured for him to sit at the breakfast bar as I rummaged through my cupboards for something to put the flower in. Finally, I chose a tall glass and after pouring some water into it, I put it on the counter. “I thought we could have a cup of tea. And cheesecake.”

“Oh man,” he groaned.

“You don’t like cheesecake?”

“I love cheesecake. But I had cupcakes for lunch, so I’m gonna have to run double my usual distance tomorrow or I’ll get fat.” He patted his stomach that was flat and enticing and so far from fat it wasn’t funny.

That’s what you’ve been doing before strutting around half naked outside, driving me crazy?” I blurted out and Jon burst out laughing. A booming sound that filled my kitchen with loud happiness.

Shit shit shit, did I just say that? I flipped the switch on the tea kettle and tried to act as if I wasn’t the biggest idiot on earth, but my cheeks flamed hotter than the sun.

“Sooooo, I drive you crazy?” He waggled his eyebrows, crossed his hands behind his neck and leaned backward. His shirt slipped up a little and revealed just a sliver of skin, but it was enough to make my throat dry up. His cocky grin from that morning made a comeback.

I covered my eyes with my hand, not trusting myself to stop staring at him unless I made it impossible to look. “Cupcakes for lunch, huh?” I asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “What’s the occasion?” I removed the hand and straightened.

He took mercy on me and backed off the teasing. “One of my coworkers had a baby. She came to the office to show him off today and she brought cupcakes with baby-blue icing.”

“How very gender normative of her.” I poured the hot water into the cups, put them on the breakfast bar, and stepped over to the fridge to retrieve the cheesecake.

“If you ask me, that kind of stuff a load of poppycock.”

I looked over the fridge door with a raised eyebrow. “Poppycock? Really? I would have pegged you more for a ‘crap’ kind of guy.” I added a smile to show him I was joking.

“That should teach you to stereotype people.” He returned my smile. “Besides, I like the sound of the word.”

After putting everything out and helping him pick a tea, I joined him. “Was it a cute baby?” I groaned internally. Why had I asked that? As if I cared about a baby I would probably never meet.

Jon shrugged. “Eh, it was a baby. But the way the women fawned over him, you’d think he was the new Messiah or something.” He blew on his cup before taking a small sip. A content hum slipped out and he drank some more.

“Yeah, women tend to do that.” Seriously, Alan George White, change the subject already. Stop talking about babies! But my brain refused to cooperate; it was probably too overwhelmed by being in the same room as Jon the Hot Neighbor.

I snuck a glance at him. Damn, he was fine, even fully clothed. His shirt didn’t leave much to the imagination, but maybe that was because I’d seen him without it so many times? I wanted to reach out and touch him. Run my hand over his chest and down his stomach and—

“You’re right about that. For a moment, I feared for the little guy. I was seriously afraid they’d start clawing each other’s eyes out over whose turn it was to hold him next. I’m thinking the boss wouldn’t have been too happy over the bloodshed.”

Huh? What was he talking about? Oh right. “Why are we still talking about babies, Jon?” My voice was hoarse and told the story about where my mind had been.

He put down his cup and inched his stool closer to me. “I don’t know.” I couldn’t take my eyes off his hand resting on the countertop. He had long, thick fingers with tufts of hair on the knuckles. I bet those hands would feel glorious as they explored my body.

“Are your mind in the gutter again?” His amusement was obvious, but it didn’t feel like he was teasing me.


“I’ve never met anyone with such an expressive face as yours. You must have been terrible at keeping secrets when you were a kid.”

“You have no idea.” Hesitantly, I reached out my hand and rested my fingers on top of his. He was warm and his skin was softer than it looked.

Jon moved even closer. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

“And you’re hot.” Seriously. Someone needed to duct tape my mouth shut.

He turned his hand over and entwined our fingers. “I’m glad you think so.” He took a deep breath. “Does that mean you wanna go on another date with me?”

My gaze flew to his face. His eyes were earnest, but his mouth was set in an uncertain smile. The juxtaposition of the cockiness and the nervousness he displayed fascinated me. I would have thought that it would be one or the other, but he was a lovely mixture of both.

“I’d love to,” I answered.

He smiled at me, and we picked up our mugs and drank our tea in a companionable silence. When my cup was empty, I rested my head on his shoulder. “You’re nothing like I thought you’d be,” I murmured.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It’s a very good thing.”

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Next week, I’m doing things a little differently. The #SuperShort will be posted on Wednesday – Valentine’s Day – instead of Friday and it won’t feature Alan and Jon, but a couple other guys you’ll recognize if you’re a frequent visitor to my blog. But if you’re really lucky, Alan and Jon might come back. No promises though 🙂

Happy weekend everyone.