My leg bounced up and down as I sat down on the couch. My arms stretched out on top of the couch's back. My thumb brushed through the soft material, striped patterns started to form. On the coffee table, a gray cat gave me an evil glare, its whiskers perked up and eyebrows full and bushy. Its tail swayed back and forth as Sugar answered the door to another guest.

I'm here.

Being invited inside a woman's house, this indicator made my nerves run wild. The last time – well, the last fifteen times or more, I had other intentions. Quite opposite from Sugar's expectations, but man those past examples, I couldn't help but imagine those exchanges would happen with Sugar.

Perhaps, one day? One time.

That's all I wanted.

She would never.

I knew. Her body language, the hesitation in her voice, her outfit – I misread her "hints" through the text messages. Boy! That outfit, my eyes traveled up and down as she talked to whoever was at the door. An oversized t-shirt that barely displayed her features – medium hills, her stomach, wide hips, and thick thighs. Her hair disheveled in a messy bun as if she rolled out of bed.

Would she look like that after?

My eyes scanned her legs, the fluffy cat PJs complimented her look.

The impulse overwhelmed me, to run my hands on the fabric, then on her hips and down her thighs. The palm of my hands sweated, casually I wiped one palm at a time around my hip. The couch helped hide my actions.

I should've come over in my original attire.

Before I courageously drove myself to Sugar's house, I wore sweatpants, t-shirts, and thick socks. I dragged my feet through the three times a day cleaned carpet. Lint accumulated on the thick socks. My apartment's balcony overlooked the Ohio River, the brown and navy water gleamed in the evening sun.

We'd match so well.

The front door slammed closed.

"You're a cat person after all," I declared, eyeing the cat, its glare continued.

I assumed whoever was at the front door had left. I was again mistaken.

"I want to say, Lydia," Sugar spoke louder this time, her eyes glanced over to me, and didn't respond to my statement, "He came over five minutes ago."

Lydia? Who's Lydia?

I stood up from my spot, tucking in my shirt. The cat growled as its hair frizzed up at attention, watching the stranger move. My hand waved off the cat as if I could calm it down. I leaned forward to get a better look at who Sugar was talking to.

A beautiful dark-skin woman waltzed into the living room area. She wore an elegant bright blue dress, form fitted to her large hips, long legs, and the fabric created an oval neck opening. A short one stone diamond necklace twinkled underneath Sugar's apartment's lights. The woman's high heels made her appear taller and enhanced her natural features.

In her arms, she carried a toddler.

A big smile appeared on her lips.

"Ah," the woman said, walking over to me. "You must be August. Sugar's shown me your pictures – man, I have to say, the photos don't do you justice. I'm Lydia."

She moved the toddler to her right hip. Stretching out her left hand, she waited for me to reciprocate.

I reached out, shaking her hand. It was a good, firm handshake. Fingers wrapped around my hand and thumb went in between my thumb and forefinger. There was strength and confidence. I smiled back at her.

"Pictures?" I teased.

Sugar blinked rapidly.

"Don't be bashful now," Lydia said to Sugar, and then she turned her attention to me, "When your secret came out, she found your name and your Wikipedia account. Along with pictures of your Champion year – now, now, Sugar. You're all good. It's not a total secret that you looked up his name. You and twenty or more girls do it. Nothing to be ashamed about."

Lydia grinned, her left hand on her hip. She said Sugar's name with an "ah" at the end, with a less "r" sound.

Sugar's face turned red, especially her cute nose.

"Yeah, well-" Sugar tried to reason her behavior.

"She's easy to tease about. I love doing it to her," Lydia giggled, along with the toddler in her right arm.

"I do too," I nodded, "Especially when her face turns red whenever she's embarrassed or nervous."

Sugar tried to cover up her face.

"Yes! It's super cute," Lydia said, "The blush starts on her cheeks and then migrates to her nose."

"She's a duck!" the toddler said. "She mir-mirg."

The small child tried to say the big word, rolling the "r" and rhythm of the word.

"Yes, a very cute duck," Lydia replied, bouncing her up and down.

Lollipop. The cute duck.

"Thank you, Monica," Sugar got out of her trance, "for the lovely nickname." She touched Monica's nose with her thumb.

"You're welcome, Auntie Sugar," Monica declared. Her head snuggled into her doily dress, neck doing a sway like motion.

Auntie? Are they friends? Sisters?

"Speaking about nicknames," Lydia smiled, turning back towards me, "I've heard an interesting nickname you've given Sugar –"

"Aren't you going to be late for your blind date, Lydia?" Sugar replied as she moved folders off her table into another adjacent room.

Lydia waved her hand. "He can wait a couple more minutes. I want to get to know August more. How many accounts do you really have? What's up with the fake name thing, you upset Sugar – which anyone who gets her rallied up, they have to hear from me –"

"Okay," Sugar said once she was done with her activity. She wrapped her arms around Monica and pulled her out of Lydia's grasp. "Tell Mommy, ba-bye. We'll see her in a couple hours. We're going to have fun baking cupcakes with August."

"Hey! I'm not done. I need to interrogate him! That's what all good friends do, Sugar. And I have to say, he's good looking and he got some brownie points," she whispered the last part into Sugar's ear.

Although I heard every word.

I smirked and tried to cover my mouth.

"You're always good, Monica," Lydia stated, kissing Monica's forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, Mommy."

Lydia smiled and readjusted her dress, pulling the fabric a little bit further down her legs.

"Wish me luck." Giving Sugar a sideways hug, Lydia gave small kisses on Sugar's cheeks.

Lydia moved towards me. "I know you wouldn't do anything silly or you know around my daughter. I can tell," her voice low. She paused as she eyed me up and down, "You're good. But even good men can break a woman's heart."

Crap. I feel like she can see into my soul.

"I w-"

"Intentional or not. Men do. And women break a man's heart," she replied, "I like you, however if Sugar gets hurt. You better believe I'll make your life miserable."

Lydia walked away before I could reply.

"See you later, dearies!" She waved at Sugar and Monica. "Sugar, I'll text you the codewords if I need you to call me so I can leave the blind date."

"Will do!"

The front door closed once more.

Silence followed behind the boisterous, confident woman. The cat moved near the television stand. Its attention was towards something else, the stranger's threat level lessened.

"You ready to decorate some strawberry short-cupcakes? We can make any other dessert if you want," Sugar exclaimed.

"Yeah!"

Monica's feet were on top of Sugar's feet. Sugar waddled over to the kitchen, carrying and cooing at Monica. Her brunette hair draped over top of Monica's black hair.

"Come on, August! You can stay if you help us."

Then reality set in.

This is why she invited me over. The safety boundary is a toddler?!

"Coming over."

I was terrified. Kids were fragile, tiny humans that didn't fully understand decisions had consequences. I didn't know what to do. How to do it. This was the first experience I had with a woman deflecting my advances (friendship advances at that!), using a child. All the attention will be on Monica.

No attention on Sugar or me.

And this child ... this human came in between Sugar and I spending time together.

Sugar hugged Monica. Tickling her neck, Monica squealed from Sugar's touches. Sugar's nose moved side to side.

Hug. Touch.

How can I be jealous of a kid?

I plastered a smile on my lips. I wouldn't allow this small setback to interrupt my time with Sugar. On Valentine's Day. We'll bond over cupcakes ... with a five-year-old as well.

"Let's get this party started!" I yelled.

The cat ran into the next room.

' ' ' ' '

The wine coolers left forgotten on the counter. The ice cream containers opened, scooper stuck halfway in the cold sustain; pastel pink, green, and orange sprinkles floated in the semi-melted dessert. Dried up baby pink icing painted the counters, mixed flour and eggs were on the ceramic ruby bowl.

"Again, again!" Monica yelled, reaching her arms in the air.

An oversized long sleeve shirt protected her delicate small dress. Sugar had to improvise with no small clean apron.

"Just one more time," I said, staring into Monica's hazel-green eyes. I placed my hands underneath Monica's armpits and picked her up. Giggles erupted from her lips.

I need to work out. What if I drop her?

My arms and fingers shook.

She's exhausting. How am I going to have energy when this child leaves? How does she have all this energy? Don't kids go to bed early? I hope her bedtime is happening soon.

Sugar smiled.

"Monica," she stated, as she pulled our last patch of the night, Surprise Delights (Monica came up with the name) from the oven, "What did I say earlier?"

I placed Monica on the ground again. Her shoes clicked on the kitchen's off-cream tiles.

"August is a person. Not a monkey bar."

Sugar nodded. "You gotta give him a break," she leaned closer to Monica, bending her knees to reach Monica's height, "He's fun, isn't he?"

"Yeah!"

Monica swayed in her shoes, her arms reached out to Sugar instead of me. Her shoulders scrunched up, touching her right cheek.

"When he's well rested, you can ask him if he can pick you up so we can do icing," Sugar declared, putting the pan on a cooling rack.

How is she not exhausted? Talking and taking care of a child?

I observed Sugar's posture, shoulders back and apron straps wrapped on her shoulders in a crisscross fashion and another strap tied around her waist. She lowered her head closer to the finished dessert, her eyes gradually glazed on each cupcake.

I wonder what she's doing? Is she analyzing it?

A soft tug interrupted my thoughts.

"Mr. August," Monica said. Delicate fingers pulled on my t-shirt's elbow. Her voice trailed off into silence. "Are, are you rested-ed now?

"Of course, I am," I reached down, "Anything for you."

Of course, my muscles said otherwise.

A high squeal escaped her mouth as she got picked up into the air. I had taken off my blazer and my undershirt tucked into my pants. I held onto Monica on my left side.

I couldn't tell a little girl "no." Especially one who was adorable and listened well to Sugar's word.

"You're a true charmer," Sugar said. She moved the mixer bowl with the spoon in it, "Working your magic on poor Monica."

"I've got to keep practicing."

Sugar's side glance said it all. She placed the bowl in the sink.

"What? You know that I need to practice," I countered.

Swiftly, Sugar picked up the icing bag. The tip pointed directly at me.

"Hey, I don't like your tone," she said. She laughed while she moved the bag up and down.

The lavender icing dripped on the counter.

"Stating the truth, Lollipop."

My right index finger scooped up the dripped icing. Then I brought it up to my lips. It was second nature. Whenever my mother made dinner, ingredients, leftovers like cheese, soup, ham or anything, it would be out for me to eat. If there happened to be some on the counter, I swiped it up. I knew it could appear disgusting, however my mother wouldn't be in the kitchen and now I lived alone. I did so. A person did stuff normally they wouldn't do in another's presence.

I licked my finger and tasted the icing.

All pure sugar. Ah, so good.

I closed my eyes. Then it took a moment to realize what I had done.

Crap, I ate off of the counter. What will Sugar think?

I opened my eyes.

I expected a scrunched-up nostril, a shutter, or an "eww" statement.

Her open mouth, caramel eyes fixed on my lips, and her unmovable hands were the opposite things I imagined seeing Sugar do. Those dilated pupils. She closed her mouth to bite on her lower lip.

I'd do anything to go up to her and kiss her. I'd pick her up by the waist and place her on the kitchen counter. My hands would be on her thighs as I would have tilted my head. Nose breathing in her scent, she would've kissed me back.

What does she taste like?

But the thing that kept me from pursuing this fantasy.

Monica.

"Eating off the counter is bad for you," I stated, focusing my attention on Monica. I took the icing bag from Sugar's hand.

"How would you like to decorate your Surprise Delights?" I stared down at Monica.

"Sprinkles!" Monica declared, throwing her hands in the air.

"Excellent."

I can't look at Sugar.

Those body reactions messed with my brain. She didn't mean it. It was a regular response, especially when someone thought the other was attractive.

She can't. Have I made a mistake in self-inviting me over?

I knew the answer.

It was rude and ungrateful. The coolers and ice cream cartoons were a peace-treaty and lessened the guilt eating at my stomach.

Back at my apartment before I came over, I needed a distraction. A fix. Succulents lived on the windowsill by three rectangular windows. The television constantly reminded and asked, "Are you there?" five times in a row. Commercials and talk-show hosts were my companions; after all, in that apartment, I was alone with my thoughts.

Well, besides her text messages.

Hey Gus.

I'll be at La Belle's at 8.

I'll be by myself.

Love to catch up with you.

She continued to text. She even called yesterday. I ignored it.

However, in my apartment, her messages tempted my heart.

Should I go? No! You idiot! What's there to catch up on? She slept with my friend, won the show, then got engaged to him, and now she's single. Again.

I went to my TrueMatch account. None of those women gave me a reaction. My thumb scrolled through the two hundred requested matches. I went through the requests the other day, the number was less than before. Comments were generic: "Hi lovely!", "Hello how are you?" or "UR Freaky hawt" and others similar to it.

That was why I reached out to Sugar.

Not because of our predicament with the documentary.

But now here I was.

I'm an awful person. Why am I doing this?

I couldn't lie to myself.

I knew. Deep down in my heart.

I glanced over at Sugar, who brought over another icing bag. The substance had reached the end. On my left side, my arm started to slump down. Muscles screamed to me to put down the weight.

"Monica," Sugar said, touching Monica's arm, "Let go sit down on the couch."

I glanced over.

Monica's hands rubbed on her eyelids. "Is it bedtime?" Sugar asked.

Monica shook her head, and then stopped. Her head did a small bop.

"Let me take her," Sugar took Monica in her arms and walked over to the couch.

Gosh, how can Lydia carry her for a long period?

I observed Sugar putting Monica on the couch. Monica's small legs spread out on the two cushions. Her hair was on the pillow, and her eyes closed. Sugar grabbed a fuzzy sapphire snowflake blanket and laid it over her body.

"Goodnight," Monica said, blowing air kisses to Sugar.

Sugar brought her hand to her lips. Kissy noise and blew it to Monica.

Monica twirled over, her back towards Sugar.

"That," I paused, "was adorable."

"Everything she does is adorable."

"You do the same."

Sugar walked into the kitchen. "Thanks? I guess."

She grabbed a small towel that hung on the oven rail.

"Especially the air kisses."

"They are cute," Sugar stated, "I feel like air kisses are underrated."

"Why do you say that?"

Sugar tilted her head. "Less and less people do it anymore. Couples – well, they mostly go for the 'real' deal. Friends and family members kiss on the cheek. Air kisses hold so much in them. It's the thought. Reaching out and being silly. I like them. They're fun."

I chuckled.

"More than the "real" deal?"

"Yes."

"Really?" he finished decorating the last cupcake.

"Yes really. Why do you say it in that tone?"

"No reason."

"Uh-huh."

"Usually people who have kissed," I tried to explain, "would say they prefer a real kiss over air-kisses."

"You're implying something."

"I am."

Sugar looked into my eyes. "I've kissed someone – multiple men – I'll have you know. Like I need to tell you any of my experiences."

Who? How many? Kisses on the cheek?

"Whatever you say, Lollipop."

Sugar stopped cleaning the counter. Her hand rested on her hip. Something changed. Her foot stepped closer into my personal space, her hip leaned over.

She tilted her head, her messy bun moved slightly to the side. The wisps curled around her ears and a few were on her forehead. She kept on staring.

I gulped.

Red alarms sounded in my mind.

What's happening?

Her full lips were in front of me.

Her warm breath hit my eyes.

Crap. I –

She brought her hand to her lips. The fingertips tapped on her pink skin and a sharp noise occurred. Her lungs expanded and then let out a long, warm breath. Vanilla and baked goods overwhelmed my senses.

She grinned.

"I guess you'll reconsider air-kisses now."

She turned away and went back to her assignment.

She gave me an air-kiss.

I tasted the sugar from her breath.

She's playing with fire.

I could feel the embers rolling off of her.

I savored her.