gesture for him to come in. “You can put the bags right on the table.”
He leans in and kisses me on the cheek before he continues on into the apartment. I try to act like it’s totally natural and casual, but it takes me by surprise. It’s kind of strange to see him bent over my kitchen sink during the day and bringing me dinner with a kiss at night. It’s not entirely unpleasant… just weird. It’s like we’re a couple, but we’re not.
We should be; I mean, it totally makes sense on paper. He’s hot and gainfully employed with a great reputation. I’m single and looking. He’s obviously interested. I should be interested. So what’s wrong with me? Why the hesitation? Why all the awkwardness every time we’re together in a semi-romantic situation? I don’t have this problem with him on the job site. We work together all day long without a single heart flutter. I joke around with him like we know each other way more than we do. But when we’re alone and he kisses my cheek, I start wanting to hide in the closet. I’m definitely the one who needs some couch therapy.
He unpacks the food while I take out and uncork a bottle of wine.
“I wasn’t sure if you like your food spicy, so I told the chef to give it to us half and half.”
“Good choice. But I do like it spicy so…”
He finishes the sentence for me. “Next time I’ll kick it up a notch.”
I smile, happy about the idea of another meal with him. He is so damn easy on the eyes. Tonight he’s wearing designer jeans and a university sweatshirt that makes him look ten years younger. I’ll bet he was the hottest guy in his entire class. It makes me wonder again why his best friend is a dog and not a woman.
“Did you go there?” I ask, pointing at the Fighting Irish mascot on the front. “Notre Dame?”
“Sure did. Played basketball there too.”
“You did? Huh.” Now that I think about it, he does look pretty athletic. Broad shoulders. Tall enough to be a point guard. Robinson was on the crew team at school. He was always so lean.
My hands freeze as I realize I’m comparing Jake to Robinson, as if Jake has to measure up to him — to the guy I told to go away and never come back, and then started missing when he followed my instructions.
I walk over and put my hand on Jake’s shoulder. I need to put an end to this craziness and now. It’s time for me to move on and leave the past behind.
He stops moving food boxes around and smiles as he sees me getting closer.
I stand on tiptoe to kiss him.
He turns to me and holds my hips gently in his hands. His head tips down and he joins me in the kiss.
For years and years I imagined what it might be like to kiss Robinson. I stood under the mistletoe at Christmas I don’t know how many times, hoping he might accidentally step under there with me and then be required to kiss me. He never did, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming about what it would feel like and taste like, to have his lips press against mine. I’m ashamed to think of how many times I practiced with my pillow.
Why I’m flashing back to memories of Robinson when I’m kissing a guy who played basketball for the Fighting Irish and has the body to show for it, I don’t know. It’s some evil trick karma is playing on me, making it impossible for me to enjoy good fortune when I finally get some in my life.
I pull away with a scowl.
He looks at me and blinks a few times before he speaks. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I know.” I walk away and wave it off. “I’m sorry. I just… got carried away.”
“I promise I can do better. You just took me by surprise.”
He sounds so sincere, I have to smile. Looking up at him, I feel my face going a little red. He must think I’m insane. “Your kiss was perfect. There’s nothing to improve on.”
“Then why the horrible face after? Is it my breath?” He starts blowing into his palm and inhaling.
I reach out and punch him lightly in the arm. “Stop.
He leans in and kisses me on the cheek before he continues on into the apartment. I try to act like it’s totally natural and casual, but it takes me by surprise. It’s kind of strange to see him bent over my kitchen sink during the day and bringing me dinner with a kiss at night. It’s not entirely unpleasant… just weird. It’s like we’re a couple, but we’re not.
We should be; I mean, it totally makes sense on paper. He’s hot and gainfully employed with a great reputation. I’m single and looking. He’s obviously interested. I should be interested. So what’s wrong with me? Why the hesitation? Why all the awkwardness every time we’re together in a semi-romantic situation? I don’t have this problem with him on the job site. We work together all day long without a single heart flutter. I joke around with him like we know each other way more than we do. But when we’re alone and he kisses my cheek, I start wanting to hide in the closet. I’m definitely the one who needs some couch therapy.
He unpacks the food while I take out and uncork a bottle of wine.
“I wasn’t sure if you like your food spicy, so I told the chef to give it to us half and half.”
“Good choice. But I do like it spicy so…”
He finishes the sentence for me. “Next time I’ll kick it up a notch.”
I smile, happy about the idea of another meal with him. He is so damn easy on the eyes. Tonight he’s wearing designer jeans and a university sweatshirt that makes him look ten years younger. I’ll bet he was the hottest guy in his entire class. It makes me wonder again why his best friend is a dog and not a woman.
“Did you go there?” I ask, pointing at the Fighting Irish mascot on the front. “Notre Dame?”
“Sure did. Played basketball there too.”
“You did? Huh.” Now that I think about it, he does look pretty athletic. Broad shoulders. Tall enough to be a point guard. Robinson was on the crew team at school. He was always so lean.
My hands freeze as I realize I’m comparing Jake to Robinson, as if Jake has to measure up to him — to the guy I told to go away and never come back, and then started missing when he followed my instructions.
I walk over and put my hand on Jake’s shoulder. I need to put an end to this craziness and now. It’s time for me to move on and leave the past behind.
He stops moving food boxes around and smiles as he sees me getting closer.
I stand on tiptoe to kiss him.
He turns to me and holds my hips gently in his hands. His head tips down and he joins me in the kiss.
For years and years I imagined what it might be like to kiss Robinson. I stood under the mistletoe at Christmas I don’t know how many times, hoping he might accidentally step under there with me and then be required to kiss me. He never did, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming about what it would feel like and taste like, to have his lips press against mine. I’m ashamed to think of how many times I practiced with my pillow.
Why I’m flashing back to memories of Robinson when I’m kissing a guy who played basketball for the Fighting Irish and has the body to show for it, I don’t know. It’s some evil trick karma is playing on me, making it impossible for me to enjoy good fortune when I finally get some in my life.
I pull away with a scowl.
He looks at me and blinks a few times before he speaks. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I know.” I walk away and wave it off. “I’m sorry. I just… got carried away.”
“I promise I can do better. You just took me by surprise.”
He sounds so sincere, I have to smile. Looking up at him, I feel my face going a little red. He must think I’m insane. “Your kiss was perfect. There’s nothing to improve on.”
“Then why the horrible face after? Is it my breath?” He starts blowing into his palm and inhaling.
I reach out and punch him lightly in the arm. “Stop.
Similar Books
