Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

JANE

" S o, Joe…" I start, my stomach twisted with nerves.

"Yeah?" He backs away from the bathroom counter and smiles, a sneaky dimple appearing in his freshly shaved cheek. A flurry of excitement builds in my chest and I regret looking at his face, but take a step closer and get a whiff of his cologne.

Great. Now I regret breathing.

"I wanted to talk to you about us."

"What about us?" Arrogance shadows his face and his smile turns into that devilish grin that annoys, yet turns me on. "I've got some time before work, if you want to…"

I cock my head, but flashes of memories from our climbing day return, boiling my insides.

"No, it's not like that."

"That's too bad." He returns to his grooming, rubbing some lotion on his jaw, and I almost have to turn around to hide the heated flush that's spreading over my cheeks.

Taking a deep breath, I continue. "There's this guy. I met him a few weeks ago and… he asked me out."

Joe's hands freeze in mid-air. "A guy?" In the mirror, he steadies his chestnut gaze on me. "Asked you out?"

"Yeah. It's nothing really. Just dinner." I tuck some hair behind my ear, wondering why this is so difficult. "I figured I'd let you know, as per our arrangement."

"You've just met the guy?" he asks.

"Yeah."

He shrugs. "So? No biggie."

A little annoyed by his dismissive tone, I cross my arms. "Well, he's really sweet. And it could turn into a second date or?—"

"Who is this guy?" Joe interrupts, turning to face me.

When I realize we're both standing with our arms crossed, I drop mine to my sides. "You don't know him. I met him at work."

"You met him at a women's center?" His dark eyebrow shoots up. "Sounds safe."

"He's a delivery guy, and we literally bumped into each other and?—"

"A delivery guy?" Again, he cuts me off. "You're warning me about a date with a grown man who wears polyester khaki shorts?"

"He's a FedEx delivery guy, not UPS."

Joe shakes his head with a sinister laugh and returns to his grooming. "All right. Navy shorts."

This is so strange. I'm not sure if I'm being laughed at or reprimanded, but it sets my teeth on edge.

"You and I agreed we wouldn't hook up with anyone else while we were doing this ." I wave a hand between us. "So, I figured I'd give you the head's up."

"It's just a date, Jane."

"But what if it turns into something more?"

"You mean he becomes your boyfriend?" he teases.

"No, I mean, what if I go back to his place and…?"

"You sleep with him?" He bites his lip, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"It could happen."

Another dark chuckle as he cleans off the counter. "That won't happen."

"What's your problem?"

"Nothing at all."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"How am I acting?" he asks with the fakest smile.

"Like a prick. I'm only following the rules that we established."

"No, the rules said we wouldn't sleep with anyone while we were doing this."

"Okay, but I'm playing it safe and warning you in case?—"

"Are you ending it between us?"

"Ending it? You're acting like…" I shake my head, slamming my hands on my hips. "We're not together, Joe. This is just boinking , remember?"

With narrowed eyes, he presses his lips together and stares at his reflection. Suddenly, the tiny bathroom feels like a cave and the tension between us sucks all the air away. I watch his nostrils flare, then his shoulders drop.

"You're right. Besides, we haven't even fucked, so…" He offers me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and brushes past, barely touching me, but enough to knock me off balance.

I follow him to his bedroom. "Are you mad at me?"

He halts, spinning around to glare at me, and I realize I've waltzed into his room. I take a step back and stand in the doorway.

"I'm not mad at you." He pulls a tie out of his top dresser drawer and wraps it around his neck, tying it with one brisk tug that makes my core spasm. "If you want to go on a date with the guy, do it. Why should I care?"

"Exactly. I didn't think you would."

Fixing his collar, he strides up to me, his lips pursed, his chest expanding with a deep inhale. He bends down, meeting my eyes, and I suddenly feel miniscule. "If you didn't think I'd care, why'd you tell me?"

I shrug, not dropping his gaze. "I figured it would be the respectful thing to do."

"Well, thanks for the courtesy." Joe's short, icy chuckle makes me clench my fists in response. "But honey, you're not going to some guy's place after one date."

He brushes past me again, but I keep on his heels.

"You don't know that. I might."

"No way. You're not the type." He stops at the front door, gathering his keys and wallet, and I throw myself in front of him.

"And until a few weeks ago, I wasn't the type to fuck my roommate, either."

His grin dissolves to a frown and his eyes turn glossy as they drift over my face. I can tell he's wrestling with his response, trying to decide if he should say what he's thinking. I prepare myself for it all—the snarky wit, the arrogance.

"You're a big girl, Jane. Do whatever you want." He grabs me by the shoulders, moving me to the side, before storming out of the apartment, leaving me confused, breathless, and completely disappointed.

JOE

A day. I've had a day.

I hate going to the bar for drinks after work. And yet, here I am, drowning my pathetic self in a third gin and tonic, surrounded by the obnoxious sounds of people bitching about their shitty bosses and shittier jobs.

Despite the depressing vibes, there's no way I was going back to my apartment. It'll be too quiet without Jane there and would only remind me of where she is and what she might be doing.

I gulp a big mouthful of my drink.

I don't know why Jane's date is affecting me so much. We agreed we'd keep this casual, and it was always meant to be for fun. But if that were true, then why did the news of her date hurt me so much? And why am I still hung up on this, hours after hearing about it?

So what if she dates someone? So what if she goes out for dinner? It won't lead anywhere. She's Jane Donati, for Christ's sake.

I drop my head.

She's Jane Donati . Of course it could lead somewhere. How could it not? Any guy can see how great she is, and he'd be an idiot not to ask her on a second date or invite her back to his place.

There's something about her, something that used to drive me crazy, but now makes her special. Endearing. It was always there, staring me in the face. I see that now. And selfishly, I was counting on Jane not seeing it for herself.

"I'll have another," I say to the bartender as he takes my empty glass.

"On me," a pretty brunette says, taking the empty seat next to me. "Hi, I'm Amaya."

She smiles, her lips thick and red. I smile back. "Joseph."

She's gorgeous, with smokey black eyes and great tits. On any other day, I'd be interested. But not tonight.

The bartender places my drink on a new napkin.

"Thanks." I lift it toward Amaya.

"My pleasure. You looked like you needed it."

I nod. "I really did."

"Let me guess. Job?"

I force a dry laugh. "Nope."

"Okay, then. Girl trouble?"

I purse my lips, then take a sip.

"Ah, nailed it," she says, sounding far too pleased with herself.

"It's complicated."

"Always is." She orders herself a glass of Cabernet and a plate of fried calamari. "We can share, if you'd like?"

The gin in my stomach tumbles around at the thought of breaded squid, and I shake my head. "No thanks. I'm good."

"I don't think I've ever met a guy who's refused free food," Amaya jokes, sipping her wine. "This girl must be great."

"One of the best." I twirl my glass, and stare at the ice cubes bumping into each other.

"So, what did you do wrong?"

I glance up, realize I'm slouching, then straighten my back. "What makes you think I did something wrong?"

"Years of experience?" She shrugs with a grin. "I can spot regret a mile away." She runs a slender finger down her glass, a move I've seen women do a thousand times, but it doesn't ignite the usual spark of interest. "Want to talk about it?"

"No offense, Amaya, but I'm not one to share my feelings with people I've just met." The words come out way more bitter than I intended.

"None taken."

She dips a piece of calamari into the red sauce and lets the silence between us grow.

After a few minutes, she wipes her hands, then runs her fingers along my bicep. "So, Joe. Is there even a remote chance I can take your mind off of this girl?"

Surprised by her bluntness, I blink a few times. "You're pretty straightforward."

"I've had no complaints before."

Her hand drifts down to my thigh and I glance down. Silver rings and blood-red nails decorate her long fingers.

Were this any other night, I'd be halfway to her bed with my tongue in her throat by now. But this isn't any other night. Something is definitely wrong with me.

Fucking Jane .

Yeah, I'd like to be fucking Jane right about now.

"Amaya, you seem like a great woman, but I'm not looking for anything tonight. I just wanted a place to hide from my thoughts."

She pulls her hand away and nods. "I get it," she says with sympathy. "Figured it was worth a try." She pays the bill and adds, "For what it's worth, I think you should make it up to this girl."

"Like I said, it's complicated. But thanks for the advice." I tip my glass her way. "And the drink."

"You're welcome." She stands and squeezes my shoulder. "Take it from me. Sometimes it's the complicated ones that are the most worth it."

I watch her leave, and let her words sink in before settling my tab and heading home by foot.

Twenty minutes later, I'm walking into my dark, empty and far too quiet apartment. The racket of my keys dropping onto the table sounds a million times louder.

"Jane?" I call out, hopeful she's home early from her date.

There's no answer.

I check the time. It's only nine. Of course, she's still out with the delivery guy.

A blow of disappointment crashes into my chest and I hurry to distract myself. I change out of my work clothes, into some sweats, and turn on the TV to keep me company.

After making myself a bag of popcorn, I settle on the couch— her couch—and pretend like I'm not waiting for her to come home.

Pretend like I'm not taking deep breaths trying to find her scent lingering in the air or on the cushions.

Pretend like I'm not completely head over heels crazy for this girl.