Free Play Me by Katie McCoy

full.”
    That startled me out of
my lustful gaze.
    “Oh, yes, of
course,” I looked back up at his face, which was split in a
smile, that perfect dimple showing in his cheek. I wanted to press my
finger to it. But instead, I dug my keys out of my purse and fumbled
with the front door to our building. I was usually good with this
kind of thing, but I still wasn’t used to the lock. Or I was
just distracted. Really, really distracted.
    “Here.” A
warm hand covered mine. Somehow, Jake managed to balance his
groceries and guide my key into the keyhole—an act that felt
far more intimate than it should—turning it until we heard it
click.
    “There you go,”
he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. I was afraid to turn
around, but I could feel his breath ruffling the strands of hair that
had come loose during my performance. The building’s hallway
was small but I didn’t feel crowded. In fact, if anything, I
wanted to get closer. Much, much closer.
    Which is what made me
move away. Mark might not have been right about my eating habits, but
he did have a point about letting my emotions get in the way. If I
hadn’t been careful, I could have let the memory of Jake’s
kiss interrupt my playing, ruining my chances in the competition. A
competition I desperately needed to win.
    Somehow, I managed to
wrestle the door open and press my back against it to hold it open
while Jake made his way inside. Not, of course, without his arm
brushing against my breasts. We were close enough that it could have
easily been an accident, but I had a feeling that when it came to a
guy like Jake, there were no accidents in situations like these.
    I was surprised to find
that I didn’t mind. In fact, my body really didn’t mind,
my nipples springing to attention. Luckily, the heavy draping of the
dress I was wearing disguised them well, but I couldn’t help
the way my body felt—soft and hot. I had never felt this way
before.
    Inside the building, I
turned to go into my apartment, to dump a cold glass of water over my
head and eat the rest of those brownies while trying not to think of
how good it felt for some random guy to accidentally, but probably
not, touch my breasts. But Jake stopped me.
    “Are you busy
right now?” he asked.
    Yes, I thought. “No,”
I stupidly said.
    He grinned. That damned
dimple winked at me like it knew exactly what I was thinking. That I
would be happy to busy myself with the removal of his shirt and
examination of his tattoos. What was happening to me? This wasn’t
like me at all.
    “Well, I was
thinking of trying out a new recipe for the restaurant,” he
told me, still balancing his groceries, which looked pretty heavy. He
barely seemed to be breaking a sweat, though, the flex of his muscles
the only indication of the bags’ weight.
    “I was wondering
if I could borrow your tongue.” He looked down at my mouth and
I felt my insides turn to Jell-O. His grin was innocent, but the look
in his eyes was anything but.
    “My tongue?”
I managed to sputter.
    “To taste test
the soup,” he concluded.
    I should say no, I
thought. There was no way I’d be of any help to him—I was
a moron when it came to food. But then I thought of those brownies.
Twenty-four hours ago I had made the claim that I just didn’t
like sweets. But Jake’s brownies had seduced me, and a part of
me, a very specific below the waist part of me, was kind of sort of
hoping it would be the baker of those brownies that would do the
seducing next.
    But I was not the kind
of girl that did stuff like this. I never ate brownies. I never
kissed strangers. And I certainly never wanted to keep kissing
strangers.. This was all a terrible idea. I really should say no, go
back into my apartment, and practice until music was the only thing
on my mind.
    Then I thought about
what Mark had said. About gaining weight. About being too emotional.
About all the ways I was wrong. For once I just wanted to be right.
    I looked at