5. Jamie

5

JAMIE

J amie had gone for stylish but sophisticated in her outfit—a black jumpsuit that loosely highlighted her body.

She finished the look with a spritz of her favorite perfume, the scent lingering in the air like a promise of an unforgettable night.

She was meeting Amy for a date, finally. It felt like forever since they last hung out. With Amy's recent MIA streak, dating her sometimes felt like dating a ghost; she knew Amy was out there somewhere, but good luck getting ahold of her.

Ugh, don't even get her started.

Like that time they planned a weekend getaway to that charming cabin in the woods. She spent weeks fantasizing about cozy nights by the fireplace, picking out the perfect outfit, prepping a basket full of gourmet snacks, and even booked a couples massage.

The day of the trip rolled around, and guess who was a no-show at the pick-up point? Yep, Amy. No call, no text, nada. Just her standing there like a lovesick fool with a picnic basket.

She texted Amy a dozen times, called even more, only to receive a text at 2 am the next day saying her "aunt's llama had an emergency and would reschedule soon." Seriously? Soon never came anyways.

Then came the whole birthday fiasco. Jamie spent ages planning a surprise party for her, complete with a scavenger hunt leading to her favorite bakery for a custom cake. She even wrangled her closest friends to keep it under wraps.

The big day arrived, and she practically vibrated with excitement all day, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the clock struck 8 PM, the designated party time. She texted the first clue, heart pounding in her chest... crickets.

Nothing. An hour later, still nothing. By the time her friends started dropping disappointed goodbyes, a cold dread had settled in her stomach. Turns out, Amy was at some random concert, completely forgetting about their plans (or so she claimed).

And then there was the "work conference" that kept Amy away for three straight days, her replies to Jamie's texts were a curt "busy" followed by radio silence. By day three, Jamie was pretty sure she was dating a secret agent with a penchant for disappearing acts.

But tonight, Amy swore she was all hers. No emergencies, no conferences, just them. Maybe this time would be different.

Pushing those anxieties aside, Jamie focused on the positive. Amy had a way of sweeping her off her feet when she was around. Her laugh was infectious, her smile could melt glaciers, and those eyes... Okay, Jamie, focus! She didn't want to appear desperate.

Chewing her lip, she ran the brush once more through her hair, she thought maybe tonight, Amy would actually show up, be present, and this rollercoaster of a relationship would finally find its tracks.

Taking a deep breath, she snagged her purse and headed out the door, hoping this date wasn't another rendezvous with Amy's invisibility cloak.

Pushing open the restaurant door, a wave of warm light and enticing aromas welcomed Jamie.

She scanned the room, searching for a head of familiar cropped cut auburn hair. And there she was. Amy sat tucked away in a corner booth, her brow furrowed in concentration as she studied the menu.

A surprised laugh escaped her lips. This was new. She glanced down at her watch: 7:50 PM. Amy was ten minutes early? Was this some kind of alternate universe? Usually, she was the one left fuming at the bar while Amy's "traffic nightmare" or "sudden work meeting" stretched on for hours.

Shaking off the remnants of past frustrations, she approached the table with a wide smile. However, she couldn't help but admire the way the soft lighting played over Amy's features, highlighting the sharp angles of her jawline and the flecks of gold that danced within her hazel eyes.

Amy was a striking woman, her wiry frame belying a strength Jamie could sense radiating from her. Her signature jade ring, a chunky cabochon carved with swirling green veins, gleamed on her middle finger, the only piece of jewelry interrupting the casual elegance of her outfit. Ripped jeans, the perfect shade of worn-in denim, hugged her toned legs, while an oversized white blouse hung loosely over a fitted black tank top, hinting at the powerful muscles sculpted beneath.

Amy's head snapped up, then, a genuine smile bloomed on her face.

"Jamie!" She rose for a hug, the familiar scent of her vanilla perfume filling her senses. A quick peck on the cheek, and she slid into the seat opposite her.

"Wow, you're actually early," Jamie blurted out before she could filter her thoughts. "That's a first."

"Well, I was already in the neighborhood, so I figured I'd drop in early," Amy explained casually.

"In the neighborhood, huh?" Her eyebrow quirked up.

The part of her that had been burned before couldn't help but dissect Amy's words. Wouldn't missed you and wanted to see you have been a more natural response?

It felt like maybe this date wasn't a pre-planned event on Amy's calendar, a night she'd been eagerly anticipating. Perhaps it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and their meeting was a matter of convenience, not genuine desire.

The thought stung a little, a flicker of doubt threatening to cloud the joy of seeing Amy. But she pushed it down, forcing a smile. Tonight, she chose to believe in the possibility of a genuine date, a night where missed connections and last-minute cancellations were a thing of the past.

"Well, I'm glad you did. It's good to see you, Amy."

The waiter was a young man, impeccably dressed in a crisp, white shirt and black trousers. His posture was upright, and his dark hair was neatly styled. His brown eyes sparkled with a friendly warmth as he approached their table.

Amy confidently rattled off her order, a gourmet salad with a vinaigrette dressing. When it was Jamie's turn, she scanned the menu, then finally pointed to a dish that sounded appealing—a hearty pasta primavera with a creamy pesto sauce.

"You sure about that?" Amy wrinkled her nose, a hint of something unsettling crossing her features.

Jamie bristled a little. "Yeah, I'm sure. I love pesto."

"But the smell. It can be disgusting. Have you considered the seared scallops with lemon risotto? Much lighter, and the presentation is divine."

Before she could voice her protest, Amy leaned across the table, a saccharine smile plastered on her face.

"Why don't I just order that for you? I can't stand the smell of strong-flavored dishes."

The heat rose in her cheeks as she forced a smile. Part of her wanted to stick to her guns, to assert her own culinary preferences. But another, more unsettling part, recoiled at the thought of causing a scene or disappointing Amy.

The waiter raised an eyebrow in question, pen hovering over his notepad.

Amy placed Jamie's order to the waiter, adding her own suggestions for sides. He scribbled it down with a nod, leaving her feeling like a bewildered bystander in her own date night.

A cold realization hit her. In all this time, did she even know Amy? They'd been on "dates" for months, exchanged texts, sure, stolen a few kisses, but beyond that surface layer, there was a gaping hole.

She didn't know Amy's favorite movies, her childhood dreams, or even her preferred meal. And tonight, the biggest revelation of all—Amy's complete disregard for her choices, masked by a veneer of concern.

The arrogance in Amy's tone, the dismissive way she treated her initial selection, made the nervous flutter that used to be excitement now feel more like apprehension.

Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something with all those "llama emergencies." Maybe this date, like so many others that never materialized, was a sign that Amy wasn't the right fit for her after all.

For the first time, she saw Amy clearly. The charming girl who captivated her might have been a facade all along. Maybe the real Amy was the one sitting across from her now—controlling, judgmental, and utterly selfish.

The question wasn't whether tonight would be the start of something real. The real question was, did she even want it to be?

The meals arrived, sizzling and fragrant. For a moment, the awkward tension was forgotten as Jamie dug into the juicy goodness.

But across from her, Amy launched into a monologue about her recent trip to Barcelona that grated on her nerves.

She threw out names of trendy restaurants, boasted about exclusive clubs she managed to weasel her way into, and described the designer clothes she "had to have" while there. She described tapas crawls and flamenco shows, her voice brimming with self-importance.

With each passing minute, Jamie's frustration mounted. Amy hadn't even glanced her way the entire time, oblivious to her silence and the growing storm brewing behind her frown.

Didn't she see the way Jamie clenched and unclenched her jaw with each clink of her cutlery against the plate?

Apparently not. Amy's world revolved solely around her. Her experiences, her preferences, her opinions; all delivered in a monologue that could rival Shakespeare himself.

Finally, Jamie couldn't take it anymore. The fork clattered onto her plate, and the jarring sound momentarily halting Amy mid-sentence.

Amy blinked, startled. "Isn't the food good?"

The question provoked a surge of anger that nearly choked Jamie. "The food? The food is perfect. But some company that isn't a self-absorbed narcissist would be the real improvement," she said, her voice tight with barely suppressed emotion

The words wiped the smile finally off Amy's face. For a moment, there was only stunned silence, then a slow flush crept up her neck.

"What do you mean?" she sputtered, her wounded pride showing.

"You know exactly what I mean. This entire night has been about you, your trips, your preferences. Have you even asked me a single question about my life?"

For the first time that night, a genuine emotion crossed Amy's eyes. Was it anger, hurt, or the fear of losing control? It didn't matter.

Tonight wasn't about her anymore. Tonight was about Jamie realizing that self-absorption wasn't a charming quirk, it was a personality red flag she couldn't ignore.

"You haven't even noticed I haven't spoken a word in ten minutes, have you?"

"I just assumed you must be tired from work."

"No, Amy. I'm not tired. I'm simply… disappointed."

A frown creased Amy's brow. "Disappointed? Why?"

"Because in all this talk about you, your trips, your clothes… there hasn't been a single question about me, about my day, about anything other than yourself. This isn't a date; it's an audience with Queen Amy," Jamie retorted.

"Oh please. Why are you making such a fuss? If you wanted to talk about your day, you should have just said something!"

The audacity of her statement made Jamie's head reel. "Is this what you call a relationship, Amy? You showing up whenever you're in the neighborhood after vanishing for weeks on end on your self-indulgent trips, probably funded by your father's inheritance? You rarely respond to my messages, let alone pick up my calls!"

Amy's voice hardened to match her eyes. "Well, if that's what you want, fine! I can take you on those tours, call you, text you…Is that what will make you happy?"

Jamie stared at her, her heart sinking lower with each word. "Is that it, Amy? A performance? This isn't about making me happy, it's about a basic level of respect and communication. You know, the things that actual couples do?"

Taking a deep breath of exasperation, she asked, "Do you even love me, Amy?"

"Of course I do!" Amy replied defensively.

"Do you see a future with me? Getting married?"

A scoffing laugh escaped Amy. "Marriage? Please, Jamie. That's so cliché. I'm not getting tied down!"

The finality in her voice cut deep. Here it was, the truth laid bare. Jamie wanted to build a life, share dreams, maybe even have a white picket fence someday. Amy, on the other hand, seemed content traversing the globe, with no room for commitment in her life.

"Well, I want to get married someday, and apparently, that's not something you're interested in."

"Look," Amy sighed, trying to regain control of the situation, "Maybe in the future… We're still getting to know each other, right?"

"Getting to know each other? Amy, what's my favorite flower?"

A hesitant answer came back: "Lilies."

"Wrong. I'm allergic to flowers. If you ever bothered to pay attention, maybe you would have known that.

She opened her mouth to retort, but Jamie held up a hand, silencing her.

"This isn't working. We're strangers cloaked in the illusion of a relationship. You haven't even bothered to learn the basics! I deserve better than this one-sided charade."

A desperate plea darted in Amy's eyes. "Wait, Jamie?—"

But Jamie was done waiting. Done hoping that the girl who captivated her would magically reappear.

"Don't call me," Jamie cut her off, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Don't text me. And for heaven's sake, just stay away."

Jamie stood to leave but delivered one last parting shot. "And by the way, interrupting someone's order because a meal smells is not only inconsiderate, it's incredibly rude."

With that, Jamie walked out of the restaurant, leaving the self-absorbed narcissist behind.

The night may not have ended as she'd hoped, but it ended with a truth revealed. And that, she realized, was far better than clinging to a fantasy.

Pulling out her phone, Jamie shot Marty a quick text.

Hey, I'm coming over for the weekend. How about you, me, some peace and quiet (and hopefully some fish)? Pyramid Lake?

A grin spread across her face as the reply popped up almost instantly.

Sounds like a plan, J. Haven't missed a good catch in ages! And I look forward to hosting you here. See you at the lake.

As she climbed into her car, the engine came to life like a promise. This weekend was all about her, no more disappearing girlfriends or self-centered dates.

She punched in the GPS coordinates—destination: Pyramid Lake.

It had been months since she last cast a line there, a place that held a special kind of magic for her.

Back then, it was an escape, a place where the only company she craved was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the tug of a fighting fish on her line. And who was always by her side, net in hand and an evil spark in his eyes?

Marty, the class bully.

The very thought brought a smile to her lips. If you'd told her grade-school self that the class bully would become her closest confidante, she'd have scoffed at the notion.

Yet, here they were, two people who'd grown past the awkwardness of adolescence, forging a genuine friendship despite the past.

College brought them together again, an awkward apology on his part and a hesitant forgiveness from hers. But that was all it took. They discovered a shared passion for the outdoors, for the quiet thrill of the hunt (or in their case, the fish).

Pyramid Lake became their haven, a place where the troubles of the world faded away with each cast of the line. They spent countless lazy afternoons there, the gentle rocking of the boat a soothing counterpoint to the thrill of a tug on the fishing line.

Marty, surprisingly adept at the art of angling, had patiently taught her the art of casting, of reading the water, of respecting the delicate balance of the ecosystem. They'd return with stringers full of fish, enough for a celebratory campfire feast.

But his circumstances were different now. Married, with a little one on the way. No more impromptu fishing trips, she understood. But thankfully, he would be there this time.

The sun beat down, turning the surface of the lake into a shimmering expanse. The surrounding landscape was a mix of rocky terrain and sparse vegetation, with the occasional desert plant dotting the arid landscape. In the distance, the rugged mountains framed the scene, their peaks standing tall against the horizon.

Jamie sat on the weathered wooden dock that extended into the lake, its planks warmed by the sun. She wore a wide-brimmed hat to shield her face from the intense sun, a pair of comfortable pants, and sturdy boots, ready for any outdoor adventure.

The dock creaked slightly under her weight as she leaned back against the rail, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

Her bobber sat stubbornly still, mirroring her lack of success. Another cast, another plop, and another sigh escaped her lips. Maybe the fish here had all grown wise to her rusty techniques.

With a shrug, she decided to check her phone for distractions, hoping Marty wouldn't be too far behind. As she scrolled through the usual flurry of updates, a post from the self-proclaimed fitness guru, Jess Thompson, caught her eye.

The name elicited a groan. Jess was a local fitness trainer and Instagram influencer whose social media presence bordered on the obnoxious. Her perfectly posed pictures and self-satisfied captions touting the superiority of her particular brand of exercise grated on Jamie's nerves, even if Jess Thompson did always look stunning and in enviable shape. Every squat thrust and burpee seemed to be accompanied by a thinly veiled jab at anyone who dared to get their sweat on in a different way.

Jess had posted a video of her training some people who were hurling over huge tractor tires. The caption read something along the lines of this is the only way to get in shape & yoga is for losers .

Jamie rolled her eyes. Jess was a talented trainer, no doubt, but her constant need to put down other forms of exercise rubbed Jamie the wrong way.

Jess looked beautiful, her glossy chestnut hair in a neat bun. Her elegant, perfectly muscled frame was provocatively dressed in skin tight yoga pants and a tiny crop top that barely covered her breasts.

Jamie caught herself scrolling Jess's photos. Something about Jess's piercing blue eyes and full sensual lips was so attractive.

Stop looking, Jamie. That is what she wants you to feel. She wants you to want her.

Ignoring the urge to unleash a scathing comment, Jamie hit the "See Less Of" button, effectively banishing Jess' smug persona from her feed.

A few messages from clients, friends, and family elicited quick replies, and with a final sigh, she tucked the phone away to continue her attempts at fishing.

She took in the gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the chirping of crickets in the tall grass. A glance at her watch told her Marty should be arriving any minute. Maybe his arrival would break the fish's apparent disinterest, hopefully.

"Hey there, stranger! Looks like the fish are hiding from you today."

Marty's footsteps announced him on the creaky floorboards, a wide grin on his face. A tackle box was slung over one shoulder and a cooler—the unmistakable promise of ice-cold beers—in the other hand completed the picture of a perfect fishing buddy.

Despite sharing Jamie's height, he favored a more generous build, the result of questionable junk foods. A faded green fishing hat sat perched on his head, casting a shadow over his perpetually sun-kissed cheeks. Wearing a fishing vest, his green eyes sparkled with mischief as he got closer.

"Marty! About time. Took you long enough."

He greeted Jamie with a peck on the cheek and sat next to her on the dock.

"Whoa, new look, Marty?" His sandy blonde hair, which used to be a perpetually windblown mess, was now neatly trimmed, adding a touch of distinguished charm.

He chuckled, running a hand self-consciously through his shorter hair. "Wife finally decided it was time for a change. Said I was starting to look like a lost member of The Beatles."

Jamie burst out laughing. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with a little mop-top charm! But yeah, this definitely suits you better. You look… distinguished."

Marty raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Distinguished, huh? Not sure that's the word Laura used, but I'll take it."

"Well, you definitely pull off the responsible husband vibe now."

They laughed.

"So, what took you so long? Traffic?"

Marty chuckled. "Traffic? Here? In the middle of nowhere? Nah, little bump tried to make an appearance this morning. Seems the little one is impatient to greet the world."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Yep, false alarm this morning. But the doctor says it won't be long now. Maybe a week, two at the most."

"Oh my, Marty, that's amazing! I can't believe it's happening so soon."

The prospect of Marty becoming a father was both daunting and exhilarating. He'd always been the fun-loving, carefree one, and fatherhood would undoubtedly be a life-changing adventure.

"You ready for it, buddy?" she asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be. A little scared, sure. But mostly excited. Can't wait to meet the little one."

He popped the cooler open, revealing a frosty wonderland of perfectly chilled beers.

"Alright, enough chit-chat. Time to quench our thirst and then maybe tempt those elusive fish with a little offering."

Marty took a swig of his beer, discerning my features. "You alright, Jamie? You seem a bit… distant today."

He'd always been that way—uncanny at picking up on the tiniest shifts in her mood.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just broke up with Amy," Jamie replied and offered a weak smile.

"The MIA girlfriend? Finally! You know, I've always told you to move on from her."

"Yeah, I know. You were right. It just took me a while to see it myself."

"Sounds like you needed to. You deserve better than someone who gives you the silent treatment."

"Yeah, well, better late than never, right?"

"Yeah," he said, raising his bottle in a silent toast. "Listen, take some time for yourself. You deserve a break from the whole dating scene."

"That's what I was thinking too. Maybe a good long break. I need to rediscover myself and learn to spot those toxic traits before I get sucked in again."

"Smart move. You know you're worth more than someone who can't even bother to show up for a date, right?"

She sighed, taking a long drink from her beer. "Honestly, I think I'm just not lucky in relationships."

Marty offered a reassuring smile. "You're awesome, Jamie. You'll find the right woman soon enough. Just keep your eyes peeled and don't settle for anything less than amazing."

"Besides, the dating pool is full of fish. You're bound to find the right one eventually," he continued.

She laughed, nudging him playfully. "This isn't one of your therapy sessions, Marty."

"Since when have I not been your therapist? Ever since college, you've been dumping your relationship woes on me."

"Alright, Dr. Marty, give me some more words of wisdom," she teased.

He leaned back against the log, a thoughtful look on his face. "Look, Jamie, you're strong, independent, and you've got a bigger heart than anyone I know. You're basically Wonder Woman but with a fishing rod."

She smiled. "Okay, that's a new one."

He chuckled. "But seriously," his voice became low and serious, "there's something else you might not know. I… I used to have feelings for you. More than just friends."

Her breath caught. That was completely unexpected.

"But," he added quickly, holding up a hand, "when I saw you weren't interested, that you liked girls… Well, I just buried those feelings. Figured it wasn't fair to either of us. And I got over it and found a woman who makes me happy."

"Marty… I-I had no idea."

He smiled gently. "It's okay. I didn't want you to know. All that matters now is you find someone who's deserving of you, like I did. Someone who appreciates your strength, your kindness, and your killer fishing skills."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the chirping of crickets and the distant call of a loon.

"Speaking of which, the client you sent my way for yoga? He's doing fantastic. Says his anxiety has improved tremendously," Jamie said in an attempt at changing the subject.

Marty's face lit up. "That's great news! Mental health is no joke, you know. Glad I could connect you two."

Suddenly, Marty's rod jerked violently, pulling him forward in a surprised yelp.

"Aha! Looks like someone finally decided to join the party!" he shouted with a laugh, as the fishing rod bent with surprising resistance.

A frantic battle ensued, with him expertly maneuvering the rod as the unseen creature fought back.

Jamie let out a whoop of delight, clapping her hands together. "There you go, Marty! I knew you wouldn't let me down."

She was relieved not just for the fish but for the shift in the emotional tide.

Finally, with a triumphant flourish, he hauled a glistening bass onto the bank.

"There you are, you little rascal!" he exclaimed, holding the fish up proudly.

They laughed as Marty expertly removed the hook and prepared to clean the fish.

"So," Marty said, wiping his hands on his pants, "Let's head back to my place? Laura would love to see you after all this time. We can throw this guy on the grill and catch up properly."

The idea of some delicious grilled fish and Laura's warm company was also undeniably appealing.

"That sounds great, Marty. Thanks."

"Excellent! Let's get this fish cleaned up then. Laura's a whiz with marinades, you're in for a treat."