Doughnuts & Feelings

***Character name change. Selena is now Mikaela, and is of both English and Swedish decent.***

It’s now Wednesday, and I’ve finally stopped having dreams about the weekend. For the last few nights, Sheila the camel has been incepting my dreams like Freddy Krueger, giving me nightmares. And yet, somehow, I still wake up with a boner. It’s confusing. It would be gross if I didn’t remember the real star of my dreams before they became a nightmare, Aisling, who, like Beatrice, has officially ghosted me. So I’m back to dreaming of Mikaela. It’s probably safer that way.

“Hey, David, how was your weekend?” Mikaela asks me at the kitchen sink, the modern office equivalent of the water cooler. I tell her I had a date. “Oh,” she says, pouring herself a glass of water.

I respond with a simple, “Yeah,” like it’s no big deal, curious to see how she reacts.

“How was it?” She asks, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she switches off the tap. Slowly, she turns to face me, resting her hip against the counter. Her body flows like water, smooth and sensual, even in this environment. It reminds me of the song by the Police, Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.

“We went to the Country Show at Brockwell Park.”

“Mmm, yeah?” She says, swallowing her drink. “We were there, too.” ‘We’, who’s we?

“Oh yeah? Did you have a good time?” Please don’t tell me you watched the camel racing. I pour myself a glass of water, standing right next to her. She doesn’t move. She’s unfazed by the closeness; we’re almost touching.

“It was so much fun. Did you see the baby goats? They were so cute.” I laugh; they were cute. They were jumping around all over the place. I sip my water, and then she grabs my arm, “Oh my god, David, did you see the camel racing?!” My eyes almost pop out of my head, my shoulders stiffen, and I turn slowly.

“Mm, yea-ah, we did.”

She leans forward on her toes, holding my arm for support. “Did you hear about the guy who licked the camel? So gross.”

I lean back, away from her wide eyes and exhale through my nose with a dismissive sound. “I’m pretty sure the camel licked him. Why would anybody lick a camel?” I shrug my shoulders and try to laugh it off.

“I didn’t think of it like that. Did you see it?”

“Um, yeah, kinda. The poor guy was posing for a photo and got blindsided by an overly friendly camel.” She laughs. “Anyway, how’s your week looking?” I ask, switching the subject.

“Good, but that reminds me. I spoke to Sandra (the team leader) and she agreed that you could help me on the Mr Kipling account as the acting manager. The account is only costed for a director and a senior executive, but if we work closely together, then you can take some of the work off my hands and gain some valuable experience. I think it will help you with your manager application when a role becomes available. What do you think?”

“That sounds great.” It’s funny, on one side of the coin, I’ll be conducting managerial work without getting paid for it, but on the other side, it’s the only way I can gain the experience to prove I’m capable, and the sooner I get promoted, the better. I need a way to lessen this imposter syndrome, and the pay rise would make life a lot easier. I might even be able to rent my own flat. No more Gary. I make a devilish face to myself as I head back to my desk.

At the end of the working day, I bump into Mikaela again at the sink. “Oh, hey-y,” she says like she hasn’t seen me all day. She brushes her hair behind her ear. “Any plans for this evening?”

I bounce my head in thought, “I’m meeting Marianne.”

“Oh, who’s Marianne?” She runs her finger along the rim of her glass.

“Uhm,” I pause, remembering our brief dalliance. “She’s an old friend.”

“Oh, okay. Well, what are you going to do?” Lifting her glass to her lips.

“Eat doughnuts.” I shrug, and Mikaela laughs as if I’m joking, and then cocks her head with a smile when she realises I’m telling the truth. “Ha-ha, yeah. I think she uses me as an excuse to indulge. Marianne says we need to celebrate Hump Day with a satisfying mouthgasm.” I grin to one side, remembering how much fun we have together.

“A what?” She asks mid-laugh.

“A mouthgasm. When something tastes so good, you moan in pleasure.”

“Ohh.” Mikaela blushes and tucks another strand of hair behind her ear as she turns toward the sink. She finishes off her glass and places it in the basin.

“What about you?”

“Oh, um.” She bites her lip, “I’m probably just going to go to the gym and do some laundry.”

“Sounds fun,” I tease, wondering whether she was intending to ask me out.

“Well, enjoy your date.” She says, walking away.

“It’s not a… date.” I trail off as she disappears around the corner. Did I just—There’s no way she was fishing for an invite by asking about my evening plans. Right?... Right?

Marianne waves at me from outside the doughnut shop, and I wave away the thought that I blew my chance with Mikaela. At what point do these thoughts become delusions, I wonder. Marianne beams at me, and I leave my thoughts for my shadow to carry and smile back. It’s been a month since I saw her last. I’m looking forward to catching up. I almost stop when I see her up close. I’ve forgotten how pretty she is. Marianne is biracial, and she’s put her impressive hair up in a new style I haven’t seen her wear before. Her dark hair is lighter than normal in the summer sun, and it’s pinned back on one side, puffing her hair up in an afro-come Lion’s mane to the other. Lifting her hair exposes her right ear, and I can see her trademark three-studded earrings, but the last one has been replaced with a black-pearled hooped earring. It draws your eyes to her beautiful light brown skin and her hazelnut eyes, framed by her long natural lashes. But what really makes her pop is her red lipstick that matches the skirt she’s rocking. She looks like Marianne, but the dialled-up summer version, like the front cover of a timeless summer record.

“Heyyy,” Marianne holds her arms out above her head with a kinked hip, just like you could imagine on an album cover. She has such a big smile, I almost skip into the hug.

“Hey, you look awesome.”

“Aww, thanks. It’s so nice to see you.”

I cock my head, “What, no compliment for me?” I tease lightly.

Marianne laughs and looks me up and down. “Well, you don’t look ba-ad.”

“But-t?”

“You know you don’t have the best style.” I feign shock, and she laughs, resting her hand on my shoulder as she leans back for a better look. She holds her opposite hand out like she’s weighing out the truth. Marianne’s smile is so disarming that I could never actually be mad at her. I look down to assess my simple jeans and t-shirt combo. I thought this was what guys wore.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“I think we should go shopping.” She says, and I scratch the back of my head, but she reaches for my face, running her fingers along my sorry excuse for a beard. “You look so much better when you’re clean-shaven.” Then she ruffles her hand through my hair, which is admittedly a little long, “It’s also time you had a fresh cut.” I look at her impressive mane, and I instantly agree.

“Okay, you’ve got me there. I don’t look anywhere near as good as you do. I love your hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it like that before.”

“No? Well, I suppose we haven’t spent a summer together since… well, for a long time.”

I swallow and bob my head, “Shall we get some doughnuts?” I turn to face the shop window and the display case that’s full of glistening glazed delights.

“Oh my god, I can’t wait. My friend has been telling me to go here for forever.”

“Yeah, I put it on my list as soon as I moved here.” It’s one of the first things I did was to find all the top recommendations for sweet treats, so I could suggest a place to meet up with her when I first arrived here.

We grab the spinning stools at the window bar and take a seat with our box of doughnuts. We couldn’t decide, so we got three to share. We have a tantalising Date Toffee Pudding with a caramel cream topping, a decadent raspberry and white chocolate that’s covered in a rose pink frosting, and lastly, a Korean Lemon Milk doughnut that’s cut open, with the thick filling puffing out in tongue-diving temptation. I have no idea how we’re going to share that one, but I’m excited to try it.

Marianne giggles, “You look so happy.”

I smile, “Me? What about you? You’ve been biting your lip since before they were boxed.” I know she’s been biting her lip because it’s been impossible to ignore. Her red lips look almost as sweet as these doughnuts. I’ve been having internal dialogue with my in-house hormone control department because we’ve been through this with Marianne. I’m pretty sure she’s moved on. I had my chance, and I blew it. I was too caught up in what Sarah thought that I ruined it. Plus, I was still very much coming out of my depression and not at all ready for the sunshine in a strikingly hot package that is Marianne.

Marianne picks up the Korean Lemon Milk without warning, and I drop my mouth aghast at her boldness.

Marianne laughs, “What? We can’t just stare at them, and I’m dying to try this one.”

She pauses, because we both chose it and are equally excited to try it, but I soften my smile and give my approval, and she doesn’t waste any time lifting it to her lips. The cream filling is so stuffed she struggles to get her mouth over it, and so I help her out by smushing it into her face, so the cream filling gets all over her mouth and nose.

I throw my head back in a happy laugh, and she looks torn between happy delight from the taste and the playfulness, to mad and revengeful at the messiness. I’m glad I caught her off guard, but all I can think about his how much I want to lick the cream right off her mouth. She licks her lips and wipes the rest with her hand, licking the cream off the back of her hand, and I almost lunge for the doughnut because she’s enjoying it too much. Marianne pulls it away, and my foot falls from the stool’s footrest as I lean over. I end up standing at her hip, leaning over her as she giggles in amusement. Finally, Marianne pushes the doughnut back toward my face and lets me take a bite about six inches from her face, and she predictably smushes it back into mine, and I welcome it. I’m so close to her, my intrusive thoughts suggest going in for the cream-filled snog, but I think better of it and move back to my stool.

The Date Toffee Pudding tasting is much more civil, and we manage to share it without making a mess. I was getting a bit conscious of the people staring at our PDA, but they have no idea of the display I’d be willing to make for her. At that, I switch my thoughts to the sweet caramel that lingers on my lips, reminding myself that Marianne is an invaluable friend.

Marianne asks about my date with Aisling, and I tell her everything. Unlike with Mikaela, I don’t hold back and go into immense detail about everything, including Sheila the camel.

“Do you think the camel was French?” I ask a confused-looking Marianne, “Because it’s the most tongue I’ve ever had on a first date.” Marianne almost chokes on her doughnut, and I have to pass her my water bottle.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you snogged a camel. That’s so gross.” She states with a comic chuckle.

“Eww, and now we’re sharing doughnuts!” She says in sudden realisation, and I burst out with laughter.

“Yeah, not the kiss I was hoping for after winning our bet.”

“Well, it sounds like Sheila was the real winner.” Marianne touches my knee in condolence, “But I’m sorry it didn’t work out. That sucks, David, I mean it. You deserve to find someone great.”

I bite down on my longing and thank her with a tight smile and reach for the last doughnut to hide the sting behind my eyes. There’s a hurt I’ve been holding onto ever since university. It likes to show itself at the worst times, so I bury it down with the delicious Raspberry Dream distraction that I take a hopeful bite of as I hold a hand beneath my mouth to catch the sugary crumble. That’s when Marianne runs her fingers underneath my poorly dressed jaw.

“You know, if you shaved, you’d look like Clark Kent. Perhaps a fresh look would do you good, boost your confidence.” I swallow as her fingertips leave my skin feeling like caramelised sugar. “I mean, look at Henry Cavill. He’s clean-shaven in Man of Steel. Nerdy, but hot as hell. It works.”

I chuckle awkwardly and try not to drop the doughnut. “Henry Cavill is a god. He’d look good with a patchy ginger beard.

“Okay, that’s fair. Though I don’t want to picture it. Look at David Corenswet then. He even has the same name as you.” Marianne shrugs as if we were interchangeable. “Leave the small-town vibes at home, you’re in London now, and nerds are sexy.”

“Mm, I don’t know if that’s the best comparison. I don’t look anything like Superman, but thanks.”

“You look a lot more like Clark Kent than you think you do.” I hear her say it, but it doesn’t fully register, because I find it hard to believe. She doesn’t say it with any conviction, almost muttering it to herself, but maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to put a little more effort into my appearance. It’s been a while since I’ve been clean-shaven, and my beard is a little thin and wispy. A wet shave couldn’t hurt. Plus, every guy loves the feel of a cold blade against their skin. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a Turkish barber and have a real shave. I ponder the thought.

We finish our doughnuts and go for a walk. Marianne stops outside a clothes shop and suggests going inside to try on a shirt. She pulls up a few pictures from Pinterest for suggestions on changing up my look. She’s not convinced when I tell her I “might” give it a go, so she sends me the pictures and later that night some links to some affordable options with the supporting message:

Next time I see you, I want to mistake you for David Corenswet. I like that she’s downgraded me from Cavill to Corenswet, because even fantasies have their limits. By the time she sees me again, she’ll be expecting Brandon Routh.

…

Continue reading the next chapter here…

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