Page 49 of Bedtime Stories
And in the center of it all—Oren.
He’s parked at the sprinkle station, tongue peeking out as he concentrates on getting the right ratio of gummy worms to crushed cookie pieces. His bear flashlight dangles from his belt loop like it’s the most natural accessory in the world, and in this crowd, it is. Every few seconds he glances around, scanning for me.
When his eyes land on mine, his whole face lights up. Not just a smile. A full-body glow that makes my chest go hot and tight. As if he’s been waiting just for me.
I weave through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces. A few Daddies clap me on the shoulder, some smirk knowingly, and Adiel raises his cone in salute from across the room. But I barely register any of them.
It’s all Oren.
“Hey,” he says when I reach him, voice a little shy despite the grin stretching his face. He holds up his concoction like it’s a science project. “I might’ve gone overboard.”
The cup is piled so high it’s a structural hazard.
I laugh. “That’s not overboard. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
He giggles, ducking his head, and I want to kiss the sprinkles off his lips right there. Instead, I snag two spoons and hand him one. “Guess you’ll need help eating that.”
His eyes flick up, bright and daring. “Guess I will.”
My chest squeezes again, vice-tight.
Again, that feeling of rightness washes over me. I know this isn’t just a scene or a weekend thing.
Oren takes the spoon from me with a look that’s way too innocent for the way he deliberately slides his tongue along the pink plastic. His lashes flick up, daring me to react.
My blood heats instantly.
But then—splat.
Half-melted Superhero Swirl dribbles right off the spoon and splashes across his shirt in a smear of blue and red. His eyes go wide.
“Oops.”
I bark out a laugh before I can stop myself. He looks so horrified and proud at the same time, as if he can’t decide whether he ruined his sexy attempt or leveled it up by accident.
And then, of course—Timmy notices.
“Oooops!” he parrots dramatically, dumping the entire scoop of his own ice cream onto his chest. The gasp he gives is pure theater. “Guess I need to, uh—” He yanks his shirt over his head in one flourish, revealing smooth abs and a shameless grin. “Emergency clean-up?”
Counselor Hottie, who’s been valiantly scooping rainbow sprinkles for the last half hour, nearly drops the ladle.
The Littles around us erupt into laughter. Oren groans, face redder than the cherry on his sugar mountain, and mutters, “He’s hopeless.”
I lean down, low enough that only Oren hears me. “Good thing you’re not.”
His blush deepens, but he doesn’t look away. Sticky shirt and all, he meets my gaze with confidence, knowing he’s got me undone despite his folly.
The club echoes with laughter as Timmy struts shirtless as though he just won a pageant. Oren hides his face in his hands for a second, then tugs at my sleeve.
“Bathroom. Please.” His voice is tiny, urgent.
I nod and guide him through the crowd, my palm warm at the small of his back. He doesn’t speak again until the door swings shut behind us, muffling the noise outside.
He peels his sticky shirt away from his chest with a grimace, blue and red streaked across the fabric.
“So much for being smooth.”
I chuckle, leaning against the sink. “Kiddo, you’ve got no idea how smooth you are. Messy? Yeah. But smooth all the same.”
