Sweet Revenge (m|m)

Two - Blake

I have a feeling I just started a new bad habit, but another bite of toffee and I don't even care.

~♡~

The following day I'm busy well into the afternoon. My inventory arrives in two days, and I have a whole store's worth of display racks to put together. I take a break for lunch and eat the cold pasta salad I packed myself the night before, and then spend a few more hours wrestling with metal frames and cursing the pictograph-based instructions they came with.

By three, I'm ready to call it a day and decide I deserve a treat.

My store is on what passes for Main Street in Asherville, but these days it's all specialty shops priced with wealthy tourists in mind, and during the off-season it's pretty dead. Even so, I look both ways before I cross it on my way over to the candy store. I've learned the hard way not to underestimate the value of a little caution.

The bells on the door jangle as I open it and step inside, breathing in a deep lungful of the deliciously sweet-scented air. A mother and her two daughters are at the counter. Instead of the cute girl from before, though, a male employee is standing behind it helping them choose from the display.

He's slender and pale, with black hair just long enough to tuck behind his ears, and wide, crystal blue eyes. He has a gently sloping nose and soft lips that beg to be kissed. He's exactly my type, and right now he's glaring at me like he hates my guts.

I look around in case the death stare isn't meant for me, but there's no one else here.

When I look back, his attention is on the other customers, and he's smiling again.

The lady and her daughters make their purchases and leave, the bells on the door jingling softly as it closes after them.

The man behind the counter fixes me with that look again, and I wonder if he knows me from somewhere. If he's local, we might've gone to high school together, but if we did I don't remember him. He looks a few years younger than me, so we probably wouldn't have been in the same class anyway.

"What do you want?" he asks. He's frowning, though it does nothing to diminish his allure.

"Um... Have we met? Because if we have I don't remember you. And I think I would remember you if we had."

He looks startled, and I notice that his wide eyes are fringed with long, dark lashes that would make a lot of girls jealous.

"Oh... No, not really. I mean... you're Blake Welling, right?"

I nod.

"We went to high school together."

"Oh," I grin. "I thought that might be it. What's with the killer look, though? Did I steal your lunch money or something?"

"No," he says, and his frown mellows out a little, but if anything his expression gets colder and more guarded than before. "I'm Aaron Keene."

I wrack my brains but can't come up with anything that fits. High school was almost ten years ago, after all.

"Sorry. I guess I don't remember you. Did we like, hang out together or something?"

For a brief second, there's something on his face that looks a lot like hate, but then it's gone. He shrugs and smiles. "No, we didn't hang out. I guess I knew you mostly by reputation."

"Oh!" I laugh. "That makes sense then. I was kind of an asshole in high school. Let's start fresh," I hold out my hand, and after a small hesitation, he offers his own.

His hand is slender and soft, and I can feel the delicate bones beneath his skin. He withdraws it from mine quickly.

"So, Aaron," I smile. "You work here?"

The shutters come down again, and he turns away. "Yes, I work here. I also own the place. This is my store."

"Wow! I thought I was young to own a business. Good for you."

"I'm twenty-six," he says coldly, "and my chocolates have won seven national awards."

Twenty-six still seems young to own a business to me, but our fresh start is already leaning towards the wrong foot, so I shut up and smile.

"From the one sample I've tried, I'd say it's well deserved."

He looks up, that little hint of surprise widening his eyes again, and I'm struck once more by how clear and blue they are. A second later he looks back down.

"So, er... What can I get you?" he asks.

How about you, to go, no wrapping necessary, I think. Out loud I say, "What do you recommend?"