Free Add Spice to Taste by R.G. Emanuelle

looked directly into my eyes. I’d left my phone on high volume after being in the bar and I knew she’d heard Brit’s voice.
    “ I just texted you and I was just going to leave you a voicemail, too, just in case. I wanted to make sure I reached you. Listen, I can’t stay after class tomorrow after all. I have to do something. Do you think we could meet before class?”
    I heard every word Brit said but I was watching Julianna change from seductive to annoyed. In my hands, she went from supple and yielding, to stiff and inflexible. “Uh, yeah, sure. That’d be fine.”
    “Great. See you then. Bye.”
    I shut off my phone and put it back in my pocket. Julianna’s head was turned to the side. She stared blankly at the ground floor apartment door.
    I leaned in again and pressed my lips on her neck but she recoiled.
    “What’s the matter?” I asked cautiously.
    As her head turned back toward me, a sickening feeling came up from my stomach, through my chest, and lodged itself in my throat. It felt like my dinner had earlier.
    “Nothing ,” she said. “Maybe it’s better if you to go home now. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks a lot for the evening. I had a great time.” One side of her mouth quirked up wanly.
    Every inch of me went cold and my hands were suddenly clammy. “I’m sorry. Was it the phone call? I didn’t want to pick up.” I was totally screwing up.
    “I’m just tired.” The flush in her cheeks had disappeared and she did indeed appear tired. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, okay?”
    “All right. Good night,” I said, reluctantly releasing her. Without looking at me again, she began to ascend the stairs. Watching her go up without me was like standing on a train platform in September, waving goodbye to a summer love.
    What the hell had just happened?
    When I got back to my own place, I threw myself on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. The window was open and through the metal bars, I listened to the sounds of cars honking and planes flying low overhead, on their way to JFK or LaGuardia Airport. There were no more boxes lining the hallway and the sounds seem amplified in the cleared-out space.
    Was Julianna really jealous of Brit? I had brushed off the idea because it was absurd, but maybe it was true. Hadn’t I made it clear that I liked her ? Maybe I hadn’t. Maybe I was not being bold or direct enough. Or passionate enough.
    That’s what I’d been told in the past. That I had no passion. Not enough for the women I had dated, anyway. I had always thought that I was a passionate person but, evidently, I had directed too much of it toward my career, and then my business.
    A business like that requires so much from a perso n, and whoever that person is with has to be flexible and willing to wait it out. Brenda certainly wasn’t that person. But I understood her frustration.
    But I couldn’t have done otherwise. Opening up that café had been my dream and I had to give it a shot. If I hadn’t, I would’ve hated myself.
    Apparently, it wasn’t meant to be. Neither the relationship nor the café.
    A tear rolled down my face and dropped onto the couch. I hadn’t cried in a long time. This time, though, I wasn’t crying because of my past relationships. I was crying because I had no idea what the fuck I was doing with my life. Would I ever feel like I had my shit together?
    The folder with the next day’s lesson plan and recipes sat on the coffee table and I got up to review them. Tomorrow was the last day of the Moroccan series.
    And I wondered if it was the last day I’d ever see Julianna.
     
    Day 4
     
    Getting to class a half-hour early gave me time to set up while I waited for Brit. I always arrived early out of necessity, but I also embraced the quiet before the craziness of the day began. However, I didn’t wait more than five minutes before Brit showed.
    The denim shorts she was wearing were pretty short, but not slutty-short, and her purple T-shirt fit snugly on her