Chapter Six

Good morning. Would you like to go for a walk?

That was the message I woke up to on Sunday morning. Jake never put any emojis into his texts, never shortened words. It was as though his texting skills were rusty or had never had a chance to develop in the first place.

Sure, I texted back.

I remembered Friday night, how our knees grazed under the table, how each touch sent a prickling sensation down my spine.

Jake was waiting for me at the same place; this time the sun shone through his curly hair, and he looked like a surfer—strange to see so far from the ocean. He hugged me as usual and Miranda's words echoed in my mind. I could lift my head and our lips would be impossibly close. I almost did it, sending my heart racing. But in a second, Jake released me and I took a shaky breath.

"Let's go," I said, my voice feeble, trying to hide the turmoil boiling inside me. I turned and started walking.

He asked me about books; I asked him about his degree in Bioengineering. He asked me about the places I wanted to visit; I asked him about his childhood. When I got back home my smart watch showed that we had covered ten miles on foot.

In a few days we met again, and a few days later, again.

We walked and, as all those miles died under our feet, I learned about Jake more and more, and each time I got more comfortable around him. He became a constant presence in my life.

My daily strings of texts with Miranda started revolving around my relationship with Jake. She kept bombarding me with questions.

Did he kiss you??? This text from Miranda came right when I stepped over the threshold of my dorm room after one of our walks.

No (sad emoji)

Did you kiss him?

No (crying emoji)

I'm worried, what do you do when you are together?

We talk.

Emily, I don't know if you're too romantic or too boring.

Maybe I should skip wearing a bra on our next walk…(blushing emoji)

So, when he hugs you … oh, finally some spice, baby (pepper emoji)

And these strings were endless. Sometimes Miranda made me blush so profoundly with her dirty texts, I was sure my cheeks shone brighter than the red of a traffic light.

* * *

Jake stood at our usual meeting spot, his eyes on his phone. When I came closer, he lifted his head and his smile was dazzling.

"Has someone invented something new?" I asked.

His arms wrapped around me and he grazed the back of my neck with his fingers.

"No, it's you," he murmured before letting me go.

"Ah, just me," I said, shrugging. "Today we're doing something different."

"Are we?"

His eyes slid down to my black dress and gray tights and stopped on the Timberland boots, before going back up.

"Yes, but first, we need food," I said, pulling him out to the park exit.

When we joined a crowd at The Corner, Jake shifted from foot to foot, looking suspiciously at the croissants everyone was devouring with the coffee.

"What? Don't tell me you don't like pastry," I said, jokingly. "And you've been here, right?"

He shook his head.

When Jake registered that shocked expression on my face, he said quickly, "I'm new here, remember? And I'm not really into eating out."

"It's easy to fix. You must try their croissants. And afterward, we are going to explore the town."

Before he could say anything it was our turn to order. When I recited the order of croissants and coffee and took out my card to pay, Jake snatched it from my hand right before the cashier did and shook his head. He pulled out his wallet and gave his card.

"My treat," he said, giving back my card.

"But I dragged you here."

"You didn't, and it's not like I need to be dragged to go anywhere with you."

My face felt impossibly hot when I turned to take our croissants from the barista.

It was unbelievable luck that we found a free table to sit outside, the Sunday afternoon was busy as always. I watched closely as Jake unwrapped his croissant from the paper bag. The wrapping was already stained with butter, and he nibbled at the side of it, studying the dough.

I shook my head and caught his arm. "Just eat."

And I opened my mouth in the most unsexy way and took a huge bite of my croissant. I closed my eyes for a second as a savory-sweet sensation exploded on my tongue.

"I could eat these every day, three times a day, instead of every meal," I mumbled. "Unfortunate side effect would be that I'd turn into a ball, but sometimes I don't care."

Jake finally bit his croissant, chewing cautiously. But then he grinned and took another bite immediately.

"It's good," he said, his mouth full. I raised an eyebrow, and he corrected himself. "Okay, it"s much better than good."

"It's as though the gods cried happy tears and golden sea nymphs wove the dough from their tears, taking the butter from the milk of holy cows," I said.

Jake chortled but took another bite.

"Where next?" Jake asked when we finished and freed the table for a non-stop chatting group of three girls.

I scratched my chin and turned to the left. "There. Let me show you my favorite places."

As I started walking, something warm touched the inside of my palm, and in a few seconds, his long fingers laced with mine. I looked down at our entwined hands for a moment and squeezed back lightly.

"So, this is an entrance to Diagon Alley," I said after five minutes of walking.

Downtown was pretty small, all my favorite spots huddled close to each other, a walking distance from the campus.

My heart skipped a bit as I silently prayed he knew what Diagon Alley was.

"Fortunately I have my wand in my pocket," Jake said and I let out a breath, chuckling.

"A wizard never goes anywhere without his wand," I replied and opened a door to Dragontail Bookstore for him.

The pleasant dry scent of paper coated us as we stepped inside. Shelves with books went up high to the ceiling, the dingy light enough to read the book covers gave a feeling of a library in a dungeon. A stand in the corner was full of brightly colored bestsellers, but the rows of books to the back were hidden in shadows. Soft Celtic music played in the background.

"It"s a completely different bookstore from the one I work in," I whispered.

Jake nodded and stepped into the shadows, his finger gingerly caressing the spines of the books.

Our time in the bookstore turned into a contest of pointing out who had read what book. After an hour of shuffling the books, I was leading the count.

"I've never met anyone who's read so much," Jake whispered.

In the misty light of the bookshop, his blue eyes glinted of a storm, the calmness of the books around us a contrast to the inner turmoil I felt being so close to him. We were alone, the store manager lost somewhere among the rows.

Jake stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine, and trailed his fingertips down my cheek. His thumb brushed my cheekbone as I took a step closer.

The bell chimed. A group of students walked into the bookstore, the quietness breaking with their loud voices.

I stepped back. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I looked down shyly, my heart hammering somewhere high in my throat.

Outside, I blinked into the blinding sun, the latest mystery novel by one of my favorite authors pressed to my chest. Jake insisted on buying it for me after I spent ten minutes arguing with him on the benefits of various genres.

This time as I took his hand in mine, we walked to the edge of downtown where behind a gas station stood a barn decorated with vintage signs. A plump rusty red Ford from the fifties stood in front of the entrance below big curly letters saying Antiques.

The musty smell of old upholstery hit us as the bell chimed when we walked in. Rows of mismatched furniture, dishes, carpets, books, boomboxes, cards, and stationary loomed in front of us. Jolly music played quietly as people roamed the shop. It was never deserted there, the things getting a second, third, or even fourth life as hands sorted through the stacks.

"Oh." Jake breathed loudly and turned to a corner with old music equipment where a light shone off the needles of record players.

We spent hours shuffling the records, browsing through creepy toys, ending with Jake buying an extremely old, ugly clown the size of his palm. I could not stop sneezing after we touched a stack of Christmas cards. And Jake chuckled when I murmured along with the words of a country song playing on the speakers.

It was almost dark when we exited the shop. We slowly made our way to the small park on the edge of the campus, our legs buzzing. The pond in the middle of the park sat just a few feet away when we settled on the huge flat boulder that was polished by hundreds of people before us. The question I had dreaded that first time we spoke finally came.

"Why don't you ever talk about your family?" Jake asked.

I looked away, curling my fingers into the moss on the side of the stone.

"Because there's nothing left but pain," I said.

"I'm sorry," he said and I felt how he touched my right hand, covering it with his, how he entwined his fingers with mine. His skin was callused, but it radiated heat which slowly slipped into me.

"My mother died when I was born. Her parents never got a chance to warm to my father, and they blamed him for her death." I sighed bitterly.

"I never even got to meet them, they just vanished, saying they wanted nothing to do with us. Dad was never close with his parents, they removed themselves from his life as soon as he left for college. So, for a very long time, it was only me and Dad, and we had a perfect time together," I smiled back tears for a moment before continuing. "He was this computer geek who found himself with a tiny baby crying in his arms. Later, I turned into more of a friend. We cared about each other, creating a world that worked for us."

I struggled to get the next words out. "Fifteen months ago, he was diagnosed with cancer. We didn't even get a chance to blink. He withered away by the second, and three months later he died in his sleep. He just kissed me good night one evening, never to open his eyes again."

Fat tears ran down my cheeks, blurring my vision. Jake draped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned in.

"I miss him so much," I whispered.

"I'm so sorry," Jake said again. He had a sympathetic frown etched into his brow.

"That's why I never talk about my family. One person kept me sane a year ago, Miranda. My Dad asked her to care for me. He loved it when she came to visit with me during the holidays. And he made me promise that I wouldn't drop out of university because of him. In the end, he begged Miranda to save me. I think he could see what his death would do to me. And Miranda did, save me that is. I was drowning and she and Brian dragged me back to the shore."

Jake kneeled in front of me, his ocean eyes shining bright, and he slowly drew a finger over my cheekbone.

"You don't need to drown anymore, you're not alone. And if you would allow me, I want to care for you too."

I just nodded. Now would have been the worst time to kiss, me sniffing, eyes puffy, nose running, but he slowly moved closer just to kiss my cheek.

"Thanks for …" my voice trailed off, "for you being you."

And I meant it.