I’d been staring at the text from Jake off and on for hours. It was a simple message, obviously. It wasn’t like the guy pledged his unending devotion to me or anything, but it made me feel warm and gooey inside, like a cinnamon roll just pulled out of the oven. Maybe that didn’t make much sense, but to me, that text had a whole lot of meaning. He didn’t have to check on me. He wasn’t technically my friend—or, I guess he was but only because I’d become friends with his mom first. I could have given a hundred reasons for him holding me the other night, or at least like five. I mean, he was a caretaker, so it was in his nature. He was a nice guy, so of course he would want to help. He knew I was close to his mom, so maybe he wanted to support her friend. But he could have easily walked away now. I’d given him space to do exactly that. I didn’t want Jake to feel obligated to me or to feel weird, because as far as I knew, he was straight, and I’d cuddled up on him all night.
But he hadn’t walked away. He’d texted to see how I’d been.
Good. Been a busy few days. You?
His reply came a whole lot quicker than mine to him had. Yeah, same. Listen…I don’t want things to be weird between us. I like hanging out with you. I know I was kinda… Actually, I don’t want to do this by text. Do you have plans tonight?
My heart basically felt like it exploded, and then all the little pieces started running a marathon. I could bring dinner over if you want?
Nah, you shouldn’t have to do that. I can throw some burgers on the grill. How about six?
A tingly feeling blossomed inside me. I’d been so scared I’d messed up with him, that he would feel too weird around me now that he’d seen some of my baggage. But there he was, inviting me over, and a part of me, one I’d been too scared to believe in, wasn’t shocked by this. Jake was a good guy. Sounds great! I’ll be there!
As soon as I hit Send, I wanted to take it back and remove the exclamation points. It was as if I was yelling at him about how excited I was to have burgers at his place. But when he replied with, See ya then, I grinned because he’d sent a smiling emoji, which was cute.
The rest of the day seemed to drag on. It was Wednesday, and I hadn’t seen or spoken to Jake since we woke up Sunday morning. I showered and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I literally went back and forth for an hour, trying to decide if I was going to wear makeup or not, and settled on simple black eyeliner and lip gloss.
From there time seemed to speed up, and before I knew it, I was knocking on the door of Jake’s house at 5:59. On time was late. That’s what my mom had always told me.
“Come in!” I heard his deep voice call from inside, so I pushed open the door. Jake looked up at me from where he stood in the kitchen and smiled. “Hey, you.”
My stomach did somersaults. “Hey. I brought you some beer. I didn’t get the apple kind this time. I saw you kept something different in your fridge.” I was fairly certain he hadn’t liked the one I’d brought the first time I came over and had only drank it to be polite.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to. You’re feeding me.” For a moment, I simply took him in. His dark hair was wet, so he’d likely gotten out of the shower recently. He wore black basketball shorts, with a loose tank top that showed off his muscular arms. I couldn’t help remembering what they’d felt like around me, how warm and safe and…well, hot, it had been.
“What?” Jake asked, his brows pulled together. “You’re blushing.”
Oh. My. God. I could die. I was blushing, staring at him and thinking about what it had been like in bed with him, because I was awkward like that. “Nothing. Can I help?”
He had ground beef on the counter and was making hamburger patties. “Nope. You can put the beer in the fridge, have one or anything else you’d like, and leave the rest to me. I’m going simple, burgers and potato salad—the salad was bought. Mom has a kickass recipe, but I didn’t have time to make it.”
“That’s okay. I appreciate your inviting me over at all. You’re the one who worked all day and then came home to cook.” And go to the store. Ugh. He probably thought I was lazy.
“I wouldn’t have asked you over if I didn’t want you here,” Jake said simply, and my insides turned mushy again.
I put the beer in the fridge but didn’t take one, then pulled myself up to sit on the counter. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I said, “Oh shit. Sorry,” and jumped down.
“It’s fine. Doesn’t bother me at all. We’re simple people around here.” Jake winked, but I just leaned against the counter this time.
“How was work today?” I asked.
“Same ole, same ole.”
“Do you like it?”
“I do. Feels good to fix stuff, ya know? To take something that’s broken and repair it, especially something as important as a car. It’s how people get to work and visit loved ones and go to the doctor. Maybe that sounds silly, but—”
“No!” I cut him off. “It doesn’t sound silly at all. I get it. I mean, I know doing people’s hair and nails and makeup isn’t important at all—fixing cars is much more essential—but still, it feels like it matters too. A way to make people feel special, pretty, pampered. Sometimes that’s all people can do for themselves. They save money to get their hair or nails done. It’s how they treat themselves. That’s part of the reason I want to do it.” I shook my head, surprised I’d gone off that way. He hadn’t asked, and I wasn’t actually going to beauty school and would never be a cosmetologist. Jake, on the other hand, was doing what he loved. “Sorry.”
He frowned. “Why would you be sorry? I think that sounds great.” He tilted his head, as if thinking for a moment, then said, “I remember this one time, I was young and things were shitty at home. My dad was on some stupid tirade. He had been for days. Sometimes things were calm and he’d be cool to be around, then other times he’d be a jackass. We’d be on edge when he got home from work, waiting to see what kind of mood he was in. If he cracked open a beer, we knew it was likely downhill from there. He was a bitter drunk. He flung insults as easily as breathing, but it was when he got physical—throwing shit, manhandling my mom—that it was fucking scary.”
Jake cleared his throat, looked down at the ground beef, watching what he was doing rather than me as he spoke. “Anyway…he’d been a real asshole to my mom. She was having a hard time, and we had this neighbor who was a nail tech. I told her I’d babysit her kids if she did my mom’s nails. I remember how happy it made my mom. Maybe to some people that’s small, but she felt pampered and special while she got her nails done, so I get it.” He looked at me and cocked a brow. “I think you should do it. I know it’s not my business, but if that’s what you want, and it sounds like it is, you should do it. Your reasons behind it are very you.”
“That’s funny because I was thinking you babysitting to do something nice for your mom is very you.” It surprised me that I’d said those words so easily, but Jake put me at ease. Talking to him felt natural.
“I guess we’re both pretty sweet.” He smiled. “Now let’s get these burgers on.”