“Something or someone on your mind, cupcake? I know that look.” Joey strolls in, returning from our favorite little sandwich shop down the street and placing the bag of the best chicken salad sandwiches in Chicago in front of me. My mouth begins to water at the smell and I suddenly realize that all I’ve eaten the past few days has been predominately sugar. I was going to develop diabetes if I didn’t watch myself.

“No, nothing on my mind except for this sandwich that I’m about to destroy.” The bell on the front door dings and I glance up, my heart thumping hard against my bones at the sight of the delivery man.

Joey hurriedly scurries to my side. “Ooohhh goody. Today has sucked ass and I need something romantic from my favorite numbers guy.” The delivery man smiles and places a small brown envelope onto the counter, handing me a slip to sign on his clipboard.

“Your favorite numbers guy? And what about Billy?” I ask, handing the man back his paperwork and staring at him suspiciously when he doesn’t exit the shop.

“He’s not a numbers guy. He’s a lawyer. A hot ass lawyer who is taking me someplace uber fancy tonight.”

“Awesome. Did you need something else?” I ask the man who stands patiently waiting.

“I’ve been instructed to wait until after you’re read the letter to leave,” he states nonchalantly.

“Oh, okay.” I turn to Joey who looks at me like he has no idea what is going on either as I open the envelope and pull out a small card. My heart begins hammering in my chest and I automatically reach up and place my free hand over it.

Dylan,

It’s come to my attention that the only number I have for you is the bakery number. Now how am I supposed to send you text messages saying that I want you to sit on my face? Or that I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt to be inside you? OR that I want to see you sometime this weekend if you’re free. Please be free.

X Reese

P.S. If you would like these sorts of messages, please give your number to Fred.

Oh man. I sigh loudly as Joey snatches the note out of my hand. Finding my notepad under the counter, I bite my cheek to stop from smiling so much as I scribble down my cell number and hand it directly to Fred, the delivery man.

“Thanks, Ms. Dylan. Have a great day,” he says, turning quickly and walking out of the shop.

“He wants you to sit on his face? Well, that’s it, Billy needs to take lessons from Reese on explicit letter writing.” He hands me back the note and I place it back in its small envelope, putting it under the counter where I’m now storing them in a small tin. “You know you’re practically swooning over there right?” he says to me as I pull my hair up into a high messy bun.

“Swooning? Who the f**k says swooning? What are you, ninety?” I pull a few stray pieces out and tuck them behind my ears.

He pulls his sandwich out and hands me mine and we start digging in. “So, what did he mean by ‘the way it felt to be inside you’? I mean, you’ve already had sex with him so why would he... oh... oh my God. Did you f**k him without a condom?” He spits bits of chicken salad at me as he shouts hysterically.

“Jesus. Close your mouth. I’d prefer to not be covered in your sandwich.” Crap. I really didn’t want Joey to know about this but I manage to forget how f**king insightful he is sometimes. I grunt loudly before I answer. “Even though it’s none of your business, yes, I did.” I make a face and wipe a hunk of mayo off my apron that had managed to hit me in the middle of my shop logo.

Slamming his hand on the counter for dramatic effect, like he needed it, he finally speaks after chewing and swallowing his bite. “That’s f**king huge and really f**king serious. I’ve never even done that. Shit, how was it? Good enough to swear off condoms permanently?” He smiles wickedly at me as I nod slowly.

“With him? Yes, absolutely. It was perfect.”

“So you two are officially a couple now? Fuck yes. That’s what I’m talking about, bitch.” He holds his hand up for me to high-five him and I shake my head as I chew up my bite. Damn it. Thanks for the reminder.

“No, we’re not a couple. We’re monogamously casual.” I take another bite of my too die for sandwich.

“What the f**k does that mean?”

I swallow my bite and stare at my sandwich, avoiding his judging stare. “It means we’re not serious but we’re only sleeping with each other. So it’s still casual and only about sex.” I feel a sharp pain in my chest. “Now that we both have established that we’ll only be with each other in that way, we don’t have to use condoms. Besides, he was my first and I was his.” And that part right there eases that pain. I glance up at him and see his unconvinced expression.

“Umm, okay. Honestly, I think you’re both delusional if you think it’s casual for either one of you. You light up when you talk about this guy and he writes you love letters. Fuck the casual bullshit.” He crumbles up his wrapper and shoots it into the trash can. “On another note, I think it’s really sweet that you were each other’s first times without it. I’m sure it meant just as much to him as it meant to you.”

I grumble loudly. “Shut up, it’s just sex. And he doesn’t write me love letters. He sends me flour and panties with tiny notes.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Want something to drink?” he asks, moving towards the kitchen as my phone beeps in my pocket.