Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

KOBE

I wasn’t due at the shop until two, which gave me enough time to meet with my brother for breakfast and drive the two and a half hours back.

Jackson had shrugged off my questions about Malik as we ate bacon and eggs, only giving me a basic “He’s a good guy. You both are” comment. Obviously, what he didn’t say was that he thought we’d like each other. He’s not wrong.

Malik leaving my hotel room last night after a couple more kisses and a more complete sketch was necessary. But my dick hadn’t thanked me, and I’m pretty sure Malik was just as reluctant to leave as I was to see him go.

But the man walking through the door of the shop already eye-fucking me from afar is the absolute reason it was necessary to not go any further than a few kisses with Malik.

Sid is a decent-ish guy, and our hookups since I’ve been stateside have scratched an itch and been mostly fun. But before I can start anything up with Malik, which I want to do, I need to call things off.

Sure, things between me and Sid aren’t exclusive, but for the past month, he’s been pushing for more. Truth is, I should have cooled things between us as soon as he let me know he was interested in something deeper. It’s my stupid fault for not wanting to hurt the guy’s feelings… or cause drama. The latter seems to wrap around Sid’s very being.

Maggie, our receptionist, warned me from the start that he had a rep for drama, but hell if my dick had cared. He was fun. What we shared was easy. But after meeting Malik and experiencing that welcome fire of attraction on top of spending six hours talking about everything and nothing, I’m listening to my gut. Malik is someone I want to get to know a whole lot better, and ideally intimately.

Straightening my shoulders, I stop cleaning my station after my session with a walk-in. I had all morning on the drive back to think about what to say to him. The partial truth is what I’m going with.

The last thing I want is for him to be a bitch about Malik.

“Hey, handsome.” Sid enters my workspace, eye-fucking me as he does so. He doesn’t lean in for a kiss—something I nipped in the bud the first time he tried. If that makes me sound callous, my bad, but in my defense, Sid’s been pointedly ignoring my brush-offs for the past few weeks.

All of that I think makes me a cowardly fucker.

“Hey, Sid.” My smile is tight. He’s not done anything wrong necessarily, so I don’t want to be a complete dick, but I need to play this right.

“How was the game? Did you catch up with your brother?”

My shoulders sag in defeat. I’m definitely the bitch in this whole situation. “It was good. Jackson’s great, thanks.”

Sid grins, folding his arms across his chest in that casual way he has that always seems anything but casual. Sid’s gym fit, taller than me by a couple inches, with enough ink across his chest and shoulders to tell a whole lot of stories. A few of those tattoos were done by my hand—it’s how we met, in fact, when he’d walked in after work at the sports store a block away, wanting a phoenix spanning his upper arm, bold and impossible to ignore. Like him. His eyes spark with something that looks equal parts interest and mischief, and it’s hard not to feel the pull of that energy.

“So,” Sid starts, arching a brow, “you get off at ten tonight? We could, you know… catch up afterward.” His gaze doesn’t waver, and I already see where this is heading.

I brace myself, clearing my throat. “I’m not sure about tonight, Sid.”

“Why?” His voice dips with that light tease, almost a purr. “Got someone else lined up, or is it a rain check?”

I falter for a beat too long, and Sid’s eyes narrow, his brow pinching ever so slightly. He leans in, just enough to take that step closer. “C’mon,” he says, tilting his head toward the back. “Let’s talk in private.”

I nod, and together, we slip into the back room. The shift from the loud music pumping across the shop floor to the quieter, dimly lit space jolts my senses. The door hasn’t even clicked shut before he’s moving toward me, backing me up with a smirk that suggests he thinks he knows exactly what we’re doing in here. His hand grazes my waist, and his smile widens as he eyes my lips.

“Sid,” I say, bracing myself and putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “That’s not what I came back here for. We… we need to talk.”

His expression freezes, the smirk slipping as his eyes narrow again. “Oh?” He’s still holding his ground, muscles taut under the sleeves of his shirt, and though he doesn’t say it out loud, there’s the unmistakable message in his posture: he’s bracing himself, prepared to fight to keep whatever’s going on between us.

“It’s been fun, Sid,” I say, meeting his gaze, trying for firm but gentle. “But it’s time to stop.”

There’s a flash of surprise that fades quickly, leaving his features harder, tight with restrained irritation. He lets out a humorless laugh, crossing his arms and eyeing me like I’m a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together. “Right. So, what’s changed?” he asks, his tone deceptively casual. “This is out of the blue. You just… woke up and decided to stop?”

Before I can answer and remind him that I’ve already slowed things down with him this past month, the door opens, and Max, one of our artists, steps in, looking between us with an eyebrow raised, no doubt sensing the tension. “Uh, sorry to interrupt. Need some supplies, that’s all.”

Sid’s jaw clenches, and without a word, he shoulders past Max, leaving the room with the faint click of the door. I exhale slowly, feeling the weight lift from my chest.

Max studies me, his head cocked in curiosity. “What was that all about?”

“Just… over.” I shrug, not wanting to get into details. “It’s been done for a while now. I just finally pulled the plug.”

Max nods, understanding without prying. “Gotcha. Good on you, then.”

Then, as if on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and a text from Malik lights up my screen, making my heart do this odd little flutter. My smile is immediate as I read it. Max notices, his eyebrows rising as he watches my face.

“Wanna share with the class who’s got you smiling like that?” he asks, amused. Before I can respond, he says, “Holy shit, did something happen last night at your brother’s game?”

I nod, grinning. “Yeah. I guess… I met someone.”

Max gives a little chuckle. “Damn… and you’re already smiling like that? Fuck, man, you’re totally screwed.” He snorts loudly as he grabs his supplies while I flip him off and leave the room.

As I type back a reply to Malik’s text telling me he’s finished training for the day and got his ass handed to him by his coach after his faceplant yesterday, Malik shoots back another one: his schedule for the month. He’s organized it neatly, listing his practices, exams, and breaks. A tug of excitement and anticipation builds in my chest as I try to figure out when, between our busy schedules—and honestly, his is insanely busy with classes and basketball—we’re going to see each other again.

Pulling myself back to reality, I walk out to the front and find Maggie. “Hey, Maggie, can we move some things around on my schedule?”

She nods, smirking knowingly. “Lemme guess. That smile’s got something to do with it?”

“Just a little bit,” I admit, not hiding the grin.

It takes a few minutes of negotiation, but when we’re done, the best we can do is three weeks. I sigh, disappointed, but I’m already planning a way around it. I hate talking on the phone—always have—but for Malik, the drive and call are worth it. And who knows? Maybe I can surprise him, work out a way for us to cross paths a little sooner.

I send Malik a quick text with a link to my calendar.

Me: I’ve got an opening in three weeks that could work. Let me know.

Because, yeah, officially we’re seeing each other so I can work on the sleeve he wants, but after those heated kisses we shared last night, I’ll happily be offering my bed up for him to stay over.

Malik: Hell yes. Schedule me in. That’s amazing. Thank you.

I smile, having already locked down the date, hoping that would be his response.

Malik: But if there’s a chance of us seeing each other sooner…

I don’t hesitate as I shoot him a response.

Me: Leave it with me.

Malik: Great. I’ve gotta go shower, then work on an assignment.

It’s not hard to imagine how incredible Malik would look naked and under the hot spray of the shower. I only got a preview of his strong arms yesterday when he was on the court, and yeah, I felt the thick cords of muscle in his back last night when I pulled him close for a goodbye kiss. But I suspect seeing the man naked will easily bring me to my knees.

Me: I’ve got another appointment in 5, so I’ll catch you later. Study hard.

I barely hold back my snort at my parting line. I was not the most conscientious student. It was a slog to complete high school. I could not fucking wait to get the hell out of there and be in the shop full-time.

But Malik, from what he told me, is trying hard to complete college with a good degree. He’s not 100 percent sure what he wants to do with it yet, but as far as I’m concerned, that makes life a lot more interesting and freeing.

Fuck, he’s still a couple of weeks shy from being twenty-two. He’s going to be working till he’s what, seventy-five with the way our fucked-up society is going. I’m a firm believer that if you’re not passionate about work, leave and don’t look back. Life’s too short for that miserable, barely existing shit.

I tuck my phone away after grinning at his upside-down smiley face emoji and make sure I’m ready for my next appointment. There are still five hours or so left in my shift, and now that the awkward conversation with Sid is out of the way, at least I can fully concentrate on the sessions ahead of me. I’m just relieved that Sid didn’t kick off and that it’s finally over. That’s definitely a drama I didn’t want.