An Extra Pump of Sugar

Chapter 1

What possessed Cinderella to march up to the palace that evening without a seed of indecision?

Had it been the magical gown and slippers?  The golden carriage?  The guise of a beautiful, enigmatic stranger?  Or had she recognized the fantastical moment for what it was? Had she simply accepted that whatever happened that night would become a distant dream one day—a few hours of carelessness and self-indulgence, free of consequence?

Whatever the case, she'd required a mindset very different from my own.

The house before me had weathered years of habitation and abuse from drunken undergraduates.  It was one of the few properties around campus still standing, fated to be torn down for new development or a parking garage.

An ancient monument of sorts.

I approached the castle of chipping mortar, reaching for the doorbell, only to withdraw my hand at the last second. I closed my eyes, the fear stirring to life in the pit of my stomach.

I don't have time for your bullshit, Carl. It's cold out here. 

My anxiety protested, but I refused to acknowledge his complaints. Instead, I took a few seconds to wipe my clammy hands on my jeans and straighten my coat.

You've got this, Moe. It's just a date.

I knocked with a shaky exhale.

Easy-peasy.

The door opened a moment later, and Andrew's sky-blue eyes greeted mine. "Mona," he breathed. His voice was low and raspy, as if he'd just woken up from a nap. "Hey."

"Hi." My gaze roamed over his tight blond curls and perfect nose—a true Greek god of a boy. Or, as my friend Baker called him, the illustrious Prince Charming.

He side-hugged me as I stepped into his warm, cannabis-infused abode.  I wasn't a stranger to the herb, but the musky scent hit me like a wall. "You look great," he said, flicking his hand across the dark hair brushing my shoulders. "Did you get a haircut?"

Heat stained my cheeks. "Yeah, a couple inches off."

"I like it. You look cute." He took my coat and guided me through the kitchen to the other end of the house.

It was hard to believe I was really here, walking through the home of my campus crush. The home of the boy who'd sat next to me on the first day of lecture, robbing me of my ability to focus. The boy who'd joked with me every morning before class, who'd sketched ridiculous doodles on the margins of his notebook to make me laugh. The boy who'd asked me on a date after our final exam and turned my world right-side up.

For once, I'd sparked the interest of the cutest guy in class—and I had no idea how to cope with the situation.

"My room's this way," he said. "You want a beer or something?"

I peeled my gaze from the living room's deteriorating sofa to his exposed and flawless nape.  "I'm okay for now.  What are you thinking for dinner?"

"I figured we'd order some pizza.  That sound good to you?"

"Pizza always sounds good," I replied, but I had to battle my disappointment.  When he'd suggested we grab a bite to eat, I'd imagined a chain restaurant, maybe a bar or something.  Now I felt stupid for agonizing over my outfit. 

But a casual date was good. Preferable, even. Carl behaved much better in a laid-back environment, and hanging out at Andrew's house would grant us more time to get to know each other without the façade of presentation.