Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

JANE

" H ey, Janey! There's a John Hughes marathon on TV." Joe's voice echoes down the hall from the living room to my bedroom, surprising me. "Want to join?"

Since our awkward evening a few nights ago, he's been much nicer and more respectful, and as much as I'd like to blame it on a sudden shift in his personality, I'm sure it's because of what he more than likely overheard and— cringe —saw on my bed.

I haven't been able to make eye contact with him and have been avoiding him like a dentist appointment. Just like tonight, hiding in my room, scrolling through endless TikToks of cute pets acting funny.

John Hughes films are my favorite, though so I wouldn't mind vegging in front of a movie marathon, but watching one with Joe would make things even more awkward.

However, since I'm too much of a cheapskate to have bought a TV for my room…

"Is Pretty in Pink playing?" I shout back.

A few silent seconds go by. "Yeah, after The Breakfast Club . In like fifteen minutes."

I'm probably safer hiding in my room and ignoring him, but the lure of Duckie resisting his crush on Andie is too strong and so, with a resigned sigh, I roll off my bed.

On my way out of the room, I catch myself checking my reflection, then grimace. Why the hell should I care how I look?

For once, Joe is sitting in the chair and not on my couch. His legs are propped on the coffee table, but when I walk in, he moves them off.

"She's alive!" He laughs, then scrutinizes me with his bedroom eyes, but I notice they're filled with kindness, not with torment.

Still, I refuse to let him lure me in to whatever mind game he's playing. "What, not hogging the couch tonight?"

"Nope. All yours, darling." He winks, only this time it doesn't make my skin crawl and instead sends butterflies skittering around my stomach.

Pleased to have my super cushy couch all to myself, my shoulders relax as I sink into it and stretch my legs.

The doorbell rings. Joe peels himself out of the chair with a grunt that somehow makes my ears perk up.

"Hot date?" I ask.

He's dressed in sweats, not his usual jeans and tight tee, so I doubt he's having company over, but still, I feel a twinge of something strange in my gut.

"Nah, I ordered food." He passes in front of me and my eyes follow him to the door.

He really has a great ass—round, muscular. It looks firm, too. And it's perched on top of some seriously mean-looking thighs. Thighs that could easily support someone's weight…

I catch myself and blink a few times, focusing instead on Bender marching across the football field as ‘ Don't you forget about me ' plays and the credits roll.

"Great scene," Joe says behind me, announcing his return.

The scent of shrimp and garlic hits my nose, and I stifle a moan. "That smells awesome."

"It does." He settles the containers on the coffee table and peels back the lids, absolutely oblivious to my envy. "How hungry are you?"

"Why?" I ask, hoping he didn't just hear my stomach rumble.

He licks some sauce off his thumb and again, I need to remind my stupid eyes to avert their gaze.

"Food." He looks up at me. "How much do you want?"

"I thought you ordered for yourself."

His face scrunches and he points to the steaming containers. "How often do I eat Pad Thai? I got this for you."

An unsettling feeling drops low in my belly and I clear my throat. "You did?"

"Uh-huh." A lopsided grin transforms his face and dimples his cheeks, and for once, I get what Gaby meant; Joe isn't a completely horrible guy. "We've lived together for months, Janey. You don't think I know what you like?"

His smile fades, and I know he's talking about food, but something in his tone hints at another meaning, as do his eyes, which keep drifting to my lips.

Suddenly boiling, I double-check the thermostat to make sure he didn't crank the heat.

"That's very kind of you."

"Why do you sound so surprised? Sometimes I can be very nice."

He returns to plating food, but again, my dirty mind peeks between the lines, searching for a double-meaning. I can't stop the heat spreading across my cheeks.

"But don't get used to it," he adds with a chuckle.

"Why?"

Confused, he looks up and shrugs a shoulder. "Because I wouldn't want you expecting me to always be this nice."

"No, not that." I shake my head. "I mean, why did you get Pad Thai? For me?"

He settles the container on the table, shoving a fork into the pile of noodles, then hands me a plate. "You really hate me, don't you?"

"Thanks." I take the plate; the steam and scents make my mouth water. "And I don't hate you. That's extreme."

He exhales a quick breath and lifts his eyebrow. "You sure act like you do."

"I know I do." I shove a forkful of food in my mouth, avoiding the topic, and savor the explosions of sweet and nutty flavors.

"You know, it might come as a surprise, but I am a good guy," he says, preparing his plate. "And we might not get along, but it's not always my fault, is it?"

I chew slowly, considering.

"No, it isn't," I admit, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. "I think we started on the wrong foot." I move the noodles around on my plate, searching for a shrimp. "But this was really nice and I appreciate it. I guess I needed it."

"You did," he replies, matter-of-factly with a grin, then settles back into the chair, propping his plate against his chest, and digs in.

Ravenous, he barely breathes as he shovels one bite after another into his mouth. Strangely, I'm not grossed out by it. The way his eyes remain glued to the television watching the opening of Pretty in Pink , and the way his jaw clenches with each bite, looks… sexy?

"You know," he adds, his eyes ahead. "I'm pretty sure our problem isn't about us hating each other."

"So, you hate me?"

"Not one bit," he replies, meeting my gaze.

"What's our problem, then?" I take a bite, bobbing my head to the music.

"I think it's that we like each other too much."

A piece of tofu sticks in my throat, and I cough. Joe offers me his beer and I take a sip, then a few more. Once I've recovered, I hand him his bottle.

"I don't like you that way, Joe. Let's make that perfectly clear."

His forehead pinches and he nods. "Yes, you do."

My eyes go wide. "No, I don't. Not the way you're implying."

Assessing me with his steely gaze, he cocks his head. "I don't mean you like me as in you want to date, but…" He purses his lips, then nods as if deciding something. "I think you want to sleep with me."

The plate nearly slips from my hands, but I catch it and set it on the table, then clench my fists in my lap.

"Your arrogance knows no bounds, you know that?" I try to play it off and roll my eyes, but his face remains serious.

"You can deny it all you want, but I think we should stop pretending our issues aren't one hundred percent sexually driven."

My throat is dry and I eye his beer. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He waves a finger between us. "You. Me. Our bickering. It's sexual tension."

"You're crazy." A low sound emerges from my throat and turns into a full laugh straight from my belly.

"Am I?" he asks, and I respond with a wide-eyed nod. "All right, prove me wrong."

"I think the fact that you constantly piss me off is proof enough." I glance down, noticing how I'm gripping the edge of the couch cushion, and slowly ease my fists open.

"No, I think me pissing you off proves my point."

"Okay. How about how I'm sitting here right now, not mounting your face?"

A smile hints at his lips and I guard myself for whatever's coming. "Interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"That's where your mind went? To you sitting on my face?"

He sticks his tongue into his cheek and my eyes practically leap out of my head, trying to escape the burning inferno that is my face.

"I never said that."

He winks. "You kind of did."

"You know what?" I stand and grab my plate. "I'll eat this in my room. Thanks again."

"But what about Duckie? You looove Duckie."

Even the lure of my favorite teenage underdog won't get me to stick around. "Good night, Joe."

His deep, sexy chuckle is the last thing I hear as I shut my bedroom door.