All I Need Is a Satisfying Hand Sandwich
My eyes pop open, and my first thought is of Brian, which he would love since I’m still in bed. How his large hands swiftly unwrap food, how his eyes look bright blue and dazzling even under the bad school lighting. How when he stands, he towers over me, like by a whole foot. I am even thinking about how his left dimple blinks at me when he smiles sometimes, especially when he’s flirting with me.
He wasn’t at school yesterday, and I texted him, but he was rather short with me. Said he “needed to help his mom” because “she wasn’t feeling good.” I had texted him back asking if she was OK, and he only texted “kind of.”
I get out of bed and say a little prayer for his mom, whatever she is going through, and add that I hope Brian comes to school today.
I get a text. It’s from Brian.
Brian: Same time, same place?
Allandra: Yes, yeah, U are coming today?
Brian: Yep.
Allandra: Your mom OK?
Brian: For now. Talk more later.
Allandra: OK. See u later today.
He texts me a thumbs-up.
Becca and I sit at the table and wait for Brian to appear.
I check my phone. “He’s not usually the one who’s late. That’s usually me.”
“I know, right?” She smirks.
“Hey,” I say.
“Truth, my love. It’s the truth. You are always chasing the clock.”
I roll my eyes. “I hope everything is OK with his mom.”
“Yeah, obviously something is up if he skipped school yesterday.” Becca grins. “I can’t wait for Halloween. Just you, me, Ginna, and a zombie movie. Maybe ask Brian to make us a scary snack, like witch fingers, or newt of slug soup, or something freaky like that. He might deliver it and we can sneak him into my house to watch the movie with us. You know, so you could spend more time together.”
I shrug. “I don’t know.” I stare at the table and trace a dent with my finer. “Maybe.”
Brian appears at the table in a rush. “Sorry, had to see a teacher about what I missed yesterday.” He unzips his backpack.
I want to touch his hand, but I don’t. “Your mom, is she OK?”
“She had to go in for a biopsy yesterday, and I didn’t want her to go alone. She’s afraid her breast cancer is back.” He keeps his eyes down, looking into his backpack.
“Oh, Brian, I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say. Ugh. Cancer?
“Me too, so sorry, Brian. Hoping for the best for her.” Becca sighs. “Cancer really effing sucks.” Becca’s face is pained. She knows this drill.
“I know,” he says. “When she was going through chemo back when I was twelve, that’s actually how I got started cooking. She couldn’t cook much for my brother and me, so I took over. Plus, she was nauseated all the time, so I had to entice her to eat with good food. I kept trying to make food better and better so I could keep her healthy.”
“Wow,” I say. “And your brother, how old was he?”
He pulls out a container. “He was nine when my mom was going through chemo. The extent of his cooking was toast, cereal, maybe a sandwich.” He finally looks up. “Someone had to feed us all, and that someone was me.”
“Your dad, was he there?” Becca asks.
“Nope, divorced. He lives in Arizona.”
“Well, I’m hoping for good news for her,” I say, wanting to touch his hand even more, and wanting to hug him.
He gives us a tiny smile. “Thanks, me too.” He peels back the lid of the container and smiles a real smile, a big one, and I have the sudden urge to kiss that juicy, eager look taking over his face. “You two will love these. My mom’s favorite. Avocado, basil, and pine nut deviled eggs and egg-white-and-pickle-jalapeño salad.” He pulls out a second container.
“That all sounds amazing. I can’t wait.” I smile at him, and he holds my gaze. “Please keep us posted about your mom and if we can help somehow. OK?”
“Yes, please do,” Becca says. “My grandma had breast cancer. Hate that fucking disease.”
“I will.” He pulls out three plates and gently places two deviled eggs per plate and a helping of the white-and-green salad on the side.
“This sounds so unique. Gourmet, even.” I reach for the fork he’s handing me, but I miss his fingers so our hands don’t touch, and I’m super disappointed.
“Ever go to Arizona to stay with your dad?” Becca asks.
“Yep, my brother and I go about every other month. He flies us out there. He gets half the holidays too.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of flying,” I say.
“Yes, but he travels a lot, so he gets lots of miles for us to fly there. It’s awesome to go for a weekend in the winter.”
“I bet. So jealous of that,” I say. “When do you go next?”
“Thanksgiving,” he says.
I pick up a deviled egg to take a bite. It hits my tongue mega creamy, with a bit of a zing. “Um … so good, Brian.”
Becca takes a bite, and her eyes flare as she chews. Then she says, “Hot damn this is good, boy.” She shakes her head. “It all makes sense now. You’ve been cooking for years.”
“Yep, for four years now, since I was twelve. Then when my mom started getting better, she was up and moving around, teaching me everything she knew about cooking. And she’s an amazing cook.” He looks down at the food, and his face shows sadness. “I just hope the cancer isn’t back.”
This time, I do touch his hand, and he looks up at me and smiles a gentle, tender smile, laced through with an exquisite vulnerability, one I have the sudden urge to comfort. His skin is warm, and it makes my hand feel like a tiny blanket on his. I really wish I could give him a giant hug. “Me too,” I say. Hmm … why not? “Brian, could I give you a hug? I feel like you could use one today.”
His face brightens and almost sends out rays of light, like he just won the lottery. “A hug, from you? I’d never ever in million years turn that request down, my queen.” He stands before I do.
I wrap my arms around his body, and all at once I feel comfort, warmth, and electricity light up my insides. He curves his head toward the top of mine like a C, and I swear I hear him sniff my hair. With the heat of him, I could just dissolve right into him. I just don’t want to let go … but I do, and we both sit. The look of joy on his face is only surpassed by a look of excitement, which is followed by a flash of his eyes that sends flickers of heat to my every pore, like warm fingers in a hot bath, but sexier. How did I not notice how hot he is?
“That was so nice, my queen.” He says it like a sigh.
“I’m outta here—I’ve got to get working on something I didn’t finish for last hour.” Becca stands. “Thanks for the delicious food, Brian.” She walks around the table and gives him a sideways hug. “Rooting for your mom.”
“Thanks, Becca. Appreciate that.”
“Bye. See you soon,” I say to her.
“Yep, later.” She gives me a wide-eyed look before she turns away.
“She’s a good friend to you,” Brian says.
“Becca, she’s the best.”
“You deserve the best, Landra.”
“You are so sweet to me,” I say, cocking my head ever so slightly—I’m delighted that looking at him is making my eyes feel all twinkly.
His grins spreads across his face slow and sly, sexy and sappy. “I’ve got sweetness planned for you. How do you feel about red?”
“As a color or a flavor?” I point to the ends of my hair.
He laughs. “A flavor.”
“Like red velvet?” I smile. “I like it.”
“Well, sort of.” He runs both hands through his hair. “But even better.”
“I’m in.” I want to touch that hair of his too. Someday, I will.
“My attempts to seduce you with my culinary talents, are they working?” I swear, he almost reaches for my hand. “Red is sexy, right?”
“Yes, red is sexy.” He wants to seduce me, but he rejected me when I asked him out? I shake my head as if that will throw off my confusion. Feeling bold, I ask, “If you want to seduce me, why did you say no when I asked you out?”
His smile flattens. Anger floods his face. “Hunter.”
“Oh,” I say. “We are over.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“No, I’m serious. We are not a couple. I can’t trust him.” I play with my bracelet, fling the heart charms, twist it back and forth on my wrist.
He shakes his head. “What Hunter did to you, with the whole ‘F and F’ BS.” His nostrils flare, and his folded hands clench together hard. His bright-blue eyes widen with a fury I didn’t know lived in him. “I wanted to do what Jackson did to Hunter. But I could never have done it up as good as Jackson did. That guy is a man with a man’s muscles. I would have loved to plow that fucking jackass down for what he did to you. Guy’s a total dick wad.”
His words hit me like a burst of heat from a freshly opened oven. I sit back, allowing the hard chair to support me. I take a deep breath. “Yes, Jackson is a strong guy, that’s for sure. And now he is eighteen, so technically, he really is a man.”
“Hunter is a fucker. He never deserved you.” He looks me in the eyes. His are full of anger. “Ever.”
“Yes, I know.” I look at the table because he’s looking at his own hands. I watch him flex and unflex his folded hands.
“But,” he says, looking at his massive hands squeezing each other, “you still like him.”
“Well … yes and no. We are friends.” I nod. “Only.”
“You don’t like him like that anymore? Not … even a little?”
I’d be lying if I said I completely don’t want him, but he’s slipping off my radar. I shake my head. “No, not even a little.” Deciding this right now.
This makes Brian’s electric eyes soften, and he looks into my eyes with something that both chills and warms me, that sends rockets through my veins. I hold his gaze and let a smile rip. Hmmm … saying it out loud, I’m easily tipping the scale to a no for Hunter and meaning it, what with that smoldering look in Brian’s eyes. I keep looking at him, and I like what I see. A lot. I hold out my hand on the table, palm up. “Go out with me?” I ask, making my eyes as tender as I can.
He places his big hand in my tiny one, still locked on my eyes, and says, “Yes, it would be my pleasure, my queen.”
He cups my hand between his two. Feeling so much of his skin on mine is so very satisfying. Raw yearning travels from our hands to my heart. I don’t want to move. His strength is obvious, so feeling how gently he holds my hand is shocking—and all the while those rockets are making my pulse speed like mad. He’s only holding my hand, and I’m reacting like he’s kissing me.
“OMG. We are going on a date,” I say, smiling so big, and I still don’t remove my hand because I rather like it there.
“Same time, same place tomorrow during the day. And a new time, new place for the evening.”
I nod. “I like it.”
“So do I. This … this is what my dreams are made of—plus you in my bed, of course. Clothes optional.” He smiles a wicked smile. Raises an eyebrow.
I laugh, and it feels robust and true. “You never do stop, do you?”
“Nope.” He gently tightens his hands around mine as he says, “Never.”
And now, I wouldn’t want it any other way either.
“See you tomorrow. Text you tonight.” He looks directly into my eyes, and his are dancing with joy.
“Can’t wait,” I say. “I’ll text you from my bed.”
“You better,” he says with a smile.
“Got anything red you can wear?” he asks.
I laugh, pointing to my hair tips.
“Perfect, and that is all you need.” His smile is so sexy. “My queen.”
I slip my hand out from between his so I can slap his hands as he laughs.
How am I having these feelings for this guy who used to pester the crap out of me? But I’m smiling, and I can’t seem to stop.
We both get up and sling our heavy backpacks over our shoulders and walk down the hall like we are really becoming a couple. People look at us, but I’m used to being stared at since my Instagram fame.
“I’m famous,” I say to him.
“Yeah, everyone looks, don’t they?”
“Yes, it’s the vote. Everyone’s voting on what I will do. I’ve given up Instagram because of it.”
He snorts. “People are idiots.”
“I know, right?” We walk parallel, our sides swiping each other every few steps. He smiles down at me when we touch. “I mean, really, am I that interesting?”
“Well, if ya ask me, the answer is yes, of course.” Grinning at me, he raises an eyebrow.
“Right, why am I asking you?” His flattery is grabbing me in the gut now, and I’m letting it sink in rather than brushing it off as I always used to. It’s rather luxurious. Hot.
We wave goodbye as we head down opposite halls. I look back and sure enough, he’s watching my little butt walk away too. These feels are shocking the shit outta me.
In class I sneak a text to Becca.
Allandra: I asked him again. He said yes!
Becca: OMG! So awesome! Happy for u my love.
Allandra: Thanks. It was hot, I mean hot after you left.
Becca: Knew it would be, that’s why I left y’all.
Allandra: Thanks, Becca.
Becca: Just supporting your love life my friend. Do the same for me someday, will ya?
I text her a thumbs-up.
Mrs. Johnston has started to look my way. I slip my phone into my pocket so she doesn’t take it. I cannot listen to this teacher drone on completing missing assignments. At all. All I can think of is Brian holding my hand, feeding me delicious food, flirting shamelessly with me, pestering me, showing up at my locker every stinking day this school year, his eyes longing for me in a way that I didn’t really fully get until now. He is filling up my whole head, abdomen, gut, all the way down to my tippy toes, and I’m enjoying sliding back down into that feeling of being with him. It’s like a hot tub, and I don’t want to get out.