“I couldn’t get through the first one,” he admitted.
“What?” I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “Seriously?”
“I tried! I did, but you were asleep by then and . . . it was just so silly.”
“I’m in shock, I really am. How is that even possible? I don’t know if I can seriously be with someone who doesn’t like Star Wars!” I exclaimed, hitting his chest playfully, though he caught my wrist in soft hands.
“Are you seriously with me?” he asked, picking up on my words.
“Not if you can’t get through one of the best movies ever made,” I teased, but his expression remained serious, so I continued. “But otherwise . . .” I let my hand rest over his heart. “Maybe. Do you want to be?” I finished, my voice unsteady.
He searched my face. “Of course I do.” His fingertips grazed my cheek. “I want us to be exclusive. I want to admit that I already added a note on my calendar that May seventh is the day I met you, and, yeah, I want to be seriously in this with you.”
I didn’t know how to respond other than making another joke, but he kissed me tenderly, pulling my lower lip between his, slowly sliding his fingers into my hair. The kiss was like salted caramel, and I didn’t have to respond.
We parted, our faces close together. “Long-distance is hard, I know. And my ex told me I worked too much, and didn’t communicate enough, and she was right, but I’ll try. I will be better with you.” His eyes grazed over my face earnestly.
“Well,” I started, tracing my hand over his chest. “I . . .”
Nervousness crept across his expression.
“You’d have to give the movies another try,” I deadpanned.
He didn’t miss a beat and pulled his hands from me. “I guess it’s not meant to be, then.” He looked away before flashing a large smile at me and kissing me again, his arms wrapping around me.
“What about work?”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said in a low voice. “Seriously, Naya—Carlton and I put some checks and balances in place, like I promised. I’m not part of the team reviewing your department. We can also keep it quiet until this is all over if you want. Would that make you feel better?”
I weighed his words while longing for his fingers to move against my skin again, for him to distract me with his touch. “So, you’re my boyfriend?”
“Do you want to go steady?” His lopsided smile filled me with butterflies.
“Is that what it’s called for adults?” I asked, nervous and comfortable—it was a strange and conflicting ball of emotions. “I’ll require use of your letter jacket.”
“Maybe I do have you fooled if you think I had a letter jacket.” He laughed, his head tipping back. “Are you really going to make me watch Star Wars again?”
A yawn escaped my lips. “Definitely.”
He returned my yawn and smiled sleepily at me. We snuggled together, our naked bodies pressed close to each other. I fell asleep enveloped in his arms, the moonlight over the lake pouring into the large picture window.
Thirty-one
Jake’s friends strode toward our table the next morning. Both men were tall, one tanned and slim with blond hair and the other with skin a little darker than mine and a shaved head. On the drive over, Jake had assured me that his friends would like me. I tried to repeat that in my head; the gravity of meeting people close to Jake, of really being part of his life was scary. My gut reaction was to retreat, but it was too late, so I took a deep breath and smiled.
“I’m Eric.” The blond reached out to me. “This is my fiancé, Tyson.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Tyson grumbled. “Someone refused to leave until the puppy was perfectly settled.”
“Naya,” I said, shaking his hand. “You have a puppy?”
“A ten-week-old golden retriever.”
Tyson eyed Eric with an affectionate exasperation. “She’s a dog. She didn’t need the perfect white noise setting and six blankets to be alone for a couple hours.” He looked to Jake for support. “You’re with me, right?”
Jake held up his hands. “I am not getting in the middle again.”
“I think I read somewhere that white noise can help puppies relax in new environments,” I offered. “What’s her name?”
“Bandit.” Eric beamed like a new father, pulling out his phone to share photos of the little golden fluff ball. I’d wanted a dog since I was a kid, but my mom was allergic, and then I’d stayed so busy with work, it never seemed like an option. My heart lurched looking at photos of the puppy as some people’s did looking at baby pictures. I still didn’t have time, especially since I’d committed to a long-distance relationship less than twelve hours earlier, but maybe I could start volunteering. To do: Check out the humane society website.
“Anyway, we’re celebrating,” Tyson said, draping an arm across the back of Eric’s chair.
Jake raised an eyebrow, peeking up from his menu. “Celebrating?”
Eric’s energy was contagious, and I liked him immediately. “The first time in forever you brought a woman with you to brunch.”
“I brought my sister that one time.”
“That doesn’t count, Romeo.”
I tried to jump into the conversation. “Do you all work together?”
“I see you’ve been talking about us nonstop, Jake,” Eric said after the waitress returned with coffee and a tray of mimosas.
Jake shrugged. “How could I do justice to meeting you in person?”
Tyson’s assessing glances made me want to double-check I’d combed my hair or that I hadn’t accidentally put my shirt on backward.
“I actually work with his dreaded ex, and these two met in college.” Eric glanced between Tyson and Jake expectantly, using his hand to motion for them to begin speaking. “Tell the story. You know you want to.”
“We were roommates freshman year, but we became friends when Tyson lost a bet,” Jake began with a laugh.
“A bet?”
Tyson’s expression softened. “With a guy on our floor. We bet we could beat him and his roommate in Mario Kart.”
“You bet a guy on our floor and sprung it on me when I got home from class one day,” Jake added. The telling of this story seemed choreographed, as if they’d told it hundreds of times before, like an old married couple.
“Long story short, Jake didn’t tell me he sucked.”
“Mario Kart and basketball, huh?” I said, turning to Jake.
“You’ve seen him play basketball and you still like him?” Eric asked.
Jake shot his friend a playful glare. “I’m good at badminton. Does that count for anything?”
I was, again, struck by Jake’s comfort with having his shortcomings out in the open and his ability to joke about them. I couldn’t help but spend a moment making the comparison to Davis, who would go to any lengths to make sure he didn’t look bad, including throwing me under the bus.
Jake’s smile was easygoing before he shifted his gaze to Tyson. “Anyway, we lose and then I learn the terms of this bet—”
Tyson shrugged. “Losers had to join the ballroom dance club for a month. I really didn’t think we could lose. I didn’t realize Jake spent so much time playing because he was trying to figure out how the controller worked.”
“After I threatened to kill him, we became good friends . . . and decent dancers.” Jake squeezed my shoulder.
I turned to Jake. “So that’s where the sweet moves come from, huh?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “It was actually fun. I stuck with it for a while.”
Eric closed his menu and beamed. “I wish Tyson and I had a story that cute.”
“Our story is fine.” Tyson rolled his eyes again but stretched to plant a sweet kiss on Eric’s cheek. “Jake and Gr—” Tyson stopped, eyes flashing to Jake. “We met through Jake.”
“You met at Thomas’s wedding?” Eric leaned forward on the table.
“Same trip,” Jake said after returning Tyson’s pointed look with a slight head nod.
I took a drink from my mimosa, as I did my best to ignore the exchange between Jake and Tyson. “I was waiting to meet friends who ended up having to cancel. I found myself talking the ear off a stranger in a bar.” I reached for his hand. “Enter, Jake.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Eric interrupted. “You met in a bar? I need a moment to process that.”
I must have looked confused as I contemplated my misstep. Isn’t meeting in a bar normal? Did I inadvertently share something embarrassing? I’d been so concerned with figuring out how not to make a fool of myself, I hadn’t stopped to think about the location.
“That came out wrong,” Eric reassured. “It’s just that Jake is not overly social.”
Tyson came to his friend’s defense. “Babe, you make him sound like a hermit.”
Eric gave a plaintive c’mon expression, which Tyson returned with be nice. Eric’s attention shifted to me. “Okay, Jake is shy. It’s hard to imagine him approaching someone in a bar, is all. Is that better?”
“You know I’m sitting right here?” Jake asked, finishing his drink.
“It’s not a bad thing. You’ve always been that way, right? Last time she visited, your sister told me that back in the day, your parents bribed you to ask a girl to prom.” Eric’s eyes lit up as he started the story, and Tyson stifled a laugh, his fist covering a grin.
“You have to remind me to thank her for sharing that,” Jake muttered.
“What were you bribed with?” I squeezed his knee under the table.
“Oh, that’s the best part!” Eric exclaimed.
Jake interrupted. “It’s not that interesting.”
“Now I really want to know.”
“He got to go to math camp if he asked her.”
Jake hung his head, a grin across his reddened face. “You know, I am still trying to impress this woman.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m impressed. I’ve never dated anyone who went to math camp. Did the bribe work?”
Jake laughed. “Well, sort of. The girl said no. I met someone at the camp, though. My first kiss was there.”
“I have such a great picture of this,” Eric exclaimed. “I’m imagining sweat bands, tube socks, and graphing calculators.”
Jake addressed Tyson, whose smile cracked from behind his hand. “Are you sure you want to marry him?”
“More often than not.” Tyson nodded, a flash of adoration for his fiancé crossing his face. “But I guess you’d be the man to calculate the exact ratio.”
The three of them had this wonderfully comfortable rapport, and I felt increasingly at home as part of the foursome. Jake rubbed his thumb across the nape of my neck as he laughed along with his friends.
“So, you were the mack-daddiest of all the studs at math camp?” Eric asked.
“Well . . .”
“Oh no.” Tyson chuckled.
“She kissed me, but it still counts.”
“So, she was the mack-daddiest of all the studs at math camp. That makes more sense,” Eric corrected. I was positive he and Felicia would get along.
Jake pinned Eric and Tyson with a mock-pleading look. “I thought maybe, just maybe, you would tell stories that make me look good. What was I thinking?”
Eric turned to me. “He does all kinds of charity work, talks to his mother regularly, and makes a mean chicken cacciatore. His fashion sense is above average, and he paid for his secretary to go on a Caribbean cruise with her husband as a Christmas gift last year.” Eric took a sip of his mimosa. “He’s generous to a fault, loves kids, and is really smart, but he’s not allowed to attend math-related events anymore because the combined impact of all of the panties dropping at his impressive nerdiness throws off the calculators.”
Jake flipped off his friend. “I get the microphone at your wedding. Remember that.” Jake stood and asked Tyson, “Can you keep your better half from telling more embarrassing stories about me until I get back from the bathroom?”
“He is a good guy,” Eric said when Jake was out of earshot. “And he hasn’t seemed this happy in a while. He’s into you.”
Heat rose on my cheeks. “Well, I’m pretty into him, too.”
Eric smiled, but Tyson’s expression was more guarded. “Just don’t fuck with his head, okay?”
I was taken aback, and stammered, “I-I, I don’t plan to.”
“Not that we think you would, but Jake’s family to us.” Eric’s voice was smoother, and he shot a pointed look at Tyson before returning his gaze to me. “I said he was shy earlier? That’s not really the right word. He’s just nice. So, just don’t take him for granted. That’s all we’re trying to say. His ex did a number on him.”
I opened my mouth to say something that would reassure him and myself that I could be a good partner. Of course, our decision the night before to make ourselves an official “us” had me questioning if I was ready and if I really would be a good girlfriend. I knew I wouldn’t cheat on him, but I had no idea if I was whole enough to be a true partner. That we were going to keep the relationship under wraps until the review of Thurmond was over made me feel slightly at ease. I’d have time to practice, to get it right, before anyone in my life was watching. Before I could form any of that into a coherent response, a woman’s voice interrupted our conversation.
“Eric?”
Both men glanced over their shoulders. A woman waved as she strode toward our table. She was tall and slim with loose blond hair in waves, a Marc Jacobs bag slung over one shoulder, and an iced coffee in her perfectly manicured hand.
“Speak of the devil,” Tyson muttered under his breath.
“Behave,” Eric chided.
“I thought that was you.” The low, kind of smoky voice sounded familiar. “I popped in for coffee and saw you over here. I had to come say hi.” She smiled at Tyson and Eric, showing perfectly straight, white teeth behind plump, glossy lips.
Tyson sat straighter. Eric cocked his head to the side with a pleasant, if somewhat cool, expression, but it looked forced. Who is this woman?
“How are you, Gretchen?” Eric’s gaze trailed to me for a moment, and my expression must have shown that I knew the name.
Why did I never consider the possibility we’d run into her?
“Oh, I’m great,” she said, a chipper note to her voice. She didn’t seem to register Tyson scowling at her and shot me only a cursory dismissive glance. “Heading into the office for a few hours. Have you seen Jacob? He’s been ducking my calls since my brother’s wedding.”
Eric pressed his lips together and shrugged.
“He’d call you back if he wanted to talk to you.” Tyson cast his gaze to the side, arms crossed over his chest.
She cocked her head to the side. “Always nice to see you, Tyson.”
“Go to hell,” he returned under his breath, and Eric shot him an exasperated look.
If the woman was surprised by Tyson’s harsh words, she didn’t show it. Her eyes narrowed, and one side of her mouth turned up. “You never liked me.”
“Cheaters rub me the wrong way.”
“Half of the gay men in Raleigh rubbed you the wrong way before I introduced you to Eric, so be nice.” She cast a sweet look to Eric, who pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’re both adults,” he muttered from behind his hand.
“He started it. Anyway, can you tell Jacob to call me if you happen to—” She stopped, her gaze flicking up. “Oh, well here he is now.” Her tone changed, an iciness forming below the sweet surface.
Jake stopped short before sitting. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you, too. Eric and Tyson were protecting you from me, apparently.”
Did he do that for my benefit or hers? I wasn’t sure if I should feel like a stage prop or a support structure.
Her pretty blue eyes narrowed slightly, and she seemed to be working through a problem in her head.
Somewhere deep in my body, the urge to rise and strike pulsed, to fight for what was mine. I shoved it down when Jake spoke again, his voice even.
“Do you need something, Gretchen?”
“You’ve been avoiding my calls. I want to meet. Some night this week?” She glanced at me again but said nothing. “But I’m sure you’ve been busy. I’ll have our secretaries set up dinner.”
“I think the lawyers can handle everything.”
“If I told you once, I told you a thousand times,” she began, brushing a strand of blond hair back off her neck in the most delicate way imaginable, “if people could just talk to one another, Eric and I wouldn’t make so much money. You never listen to me.”
Jake’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. I wondered if that was frustration at her saying it or guilt at it being true.
She shifted her catlike gaze again. “You should know he never listens, but I’m being so rude.” She stretched her hand in my direction. “I’m Gretchen Vanderkin-Shaw. I was the woman at this table once upon a time.” She laughed, a breathy, humorless sound. “It’s been a while now, I guess.” Something flashed across her face, breaking through the mask of quick-witted confidence. She looked sad, and I had a moment of sympathy for her. I’d only heard Jake’s side of their story, after all, and it was probably painful to see him with someone else. Her veneer reappeared quickly, though, the flash of sadness replaced with cool skepticism. “Anyway, who are you?”
“Naya,” I said quickly, trying to infuse confidence into my voice. “I’m visiting from Chicago.”
Jake’s posture was casual, but his entire body tensed. “My girlfriend, Gretch.”
How to Fail at Flirting Page 18