by Emma Hart
That’s right. I was going to own the fuck out of that label as I mixed chocolate-chip pancake batter.
I figured turnabout was fair play. Jay had made me talk emotions, so now I was going to get my own back, Shelby-style.
“Dancing with a Stranger” by Sam Smith and Normani was bursting from my phone, and I sang along and twirled through the kitchen to the beat. Which was, actually, a lot of hip swaying like I was freakin’ Shakira.
Sometime around two in the morning, I’d made my choice.
If I didn’t try now, I’d forever hate myself. If I didn’t tell Jay that it was worth pursuing something, I’d forever be plagued with thoughts of what-if.
I hated those.
They were often the basis of my plots but in real life? Not a fan.
We had to figure it out, though. It wouldn’t be easy. We lived together. Our friendship was important. But what could one date hurt?
It couldn’t.
I tossed one pancake onto the stack and poured another, swaying from side to side.
“Oh, shit, I smell pancakes.”
I grinned, dipping my head so he couldn’t see. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” Jay said warily.
I peered over my shoulder as the pancake batter bubbled. His hair was sticking up at all angles, and he wore his uniform lazy outfit: sweat shorts and a t-shirt. He had the look of someone who’d just woken up and come running to the kitchen.
“The sun is shining. There’s a bird outside who finally stopped singing when I did, and I’m making pancakes. Is there anything bad about this morning?”
“Well, you’re making pancakes. Also, you’re singing. That’s not good at any point of the day. Especially not the shower.”
My lips twisted. “You’ve never heard you singing in the shower, clearly.”
“Hey—I’m a regular Ed Sheeran in the shower. I can sing the fuck out of ‘Shape Of You.’”
“No.” I shook my head. “You can’t. Unless you’d like to drown cats and compare your voice, that is.”
He grunted. “You’re making pancakes.”
“Yes.”
“I know what that means.”
“You forgot to put your Pop-Tart wrapper in the trash?”
“Bad news,” he said.
“I don’t know. If you think I ran to the store at seven a.m. for chocolate syrup and berries for bad news, well, maybe you’ve put the news on.”
“Should I have?”
I put the latest pancake on the stack. “Not in my experience. It’s never good when I look.”
“I can’t decide if you’re trying to let a guy down gently or if you’re trolling the fuck out of me.”
I shrugged and poured another pancake. “Figure it out.”
“If I could, I would.”
Another shrug. “Eh.”
I flipped the pancake. It landed perfectly in the pan, and I grabbed my phone. I changed the song to “Shape of You” and grinned at Jay. “Sing, monkey, sing.”
He laughed, coming over to the coffee machine. “Only in the shower. It doesn’t sound the same outside of it.”
“Aw, damn. I thought there’d be some kind of entertainment for breakfast.”
“All right, I’m starting to think you’re trolling me.”
I flipped the final pancake onto the stack and turned off the stove. I carried it over to the island and came back for the toppings. Jay joined me, carrying two coffees, and set one in front of me.
“Thanks.” I smiled and took three pancakes for my plate, leaving him five.
His eyebrows shot up. “If you’re leaving me an extra pancake, I know it’s bad news.”
“Shut up and eat.” I grabbed the chocolate syrup and drizzled it over my pancakes, then took some of the sliced bananas, strawberries, and raspberries.
“There’s an order I can live with.” He did the same, piling his plate with the cut fruit before he drizzled basically half the bottle of syrup over his plate.
I side-eyed it for a second before going back to my breakfast.
Really. And he said I was the one with the bad diet.
There was more sugar on his plate than in the candy aisle at Target.
And I knew because I was a fan of that aisle.
We ate in relative silence, only occasionally glancing at each other. My phone circled through music in the background while the dishwasher whirred and the fridge buzzed.
And it was so, so comfortable.
And not because I was used to it. It just was. It was comfortable and…well, comfortable.
It felt right. To sit in silence and eat with him like this, even if he was full of nervous energy.
I had to put him out of his misery soon.
I swiped a slice of banana through the syrup and put it into my mouth before settling down my cutlery. Jay was still making his way through his, although he was going at warp-speed compared to me.
I didn’t know how he could eat so much.
Standing up, I put the last of my breakfast into the trash and took the plate to the sink. No sooner had I rinsed mine off than Jay groaned and held his stomach.
“If it’s bad news,” he said, turning to me. “It was worth it.”
“Good to know you value food over me.” I swiped the plate from in front of him and put it straight into the bubbly hot water in the sink.
I felt the warmth of his body before I felt his physical touch.
He came up behind me, trapping me against the sink with his body. It was awfully bold for someone who thought what I had to say was bad news, but I digress.
“What are you doing?” I asked, amused.
“Trapping you until you give me what I want.”
“Are you out of coffee?”
“Don’t sass me, Shelby.”
“Aw, you’re taking away my very DNA.”
He dipped his head, his lips brushing across the bare skin of my neck. My hair was currently looped on top of my head, but his breath sent loose tendrils fluttering over my skin.
“All right, stop it!” I turned, pushing him away. “Stop that!”
He grinned.
“One date.” I held up one finger. “I mean it, Jay. One date to prove that we can do this.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really. But that’s it—until it happens, nothing changes. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this properly.”
His eyes glinted as he moved toward me. “As it happens, I have an idea.”
“That scares me.”
“I know.” He pushed my bangs out of my eyes. “We changed how we live together because of The Big Bang Theory, so why don’t we try another thing from the show to see if we can make our relationship work?”
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “I’m not writing a relationship agreement.”
“Not that.” He barely hid his laughter. “When Penny and Leonard got back together.”
I frowned. “You want to beta test our relationship?”
“No. We should do our first date as if we don’t know each other.”
My lips twitched.
“There are probably things you’d tell a date that I don’t know, so it’d be fun.”
I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. It was the craziest thing I’d ever heard, but somehow… it made sense.
“All right. I’ll play. You tell me where and when, and I’ll be there.” I grabbed the dishcloth and tossed it at him. “I have to work. Be a dear and finish the dishes, would you?”
“Wow. Is this what I have to look forward to?”
I turned, walking backward. “Yes. You do live here after all.”
His lips curved to one side in a smirk that made me want to kiss it. “Goddamn it, I do.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN – JAY
Chore Charts Aren’t Just For Kids
I’d fucking nailed it.
I had the best, most ridiculous, insane idea for our first date, and I was proud as fuck of
it.
Now, I just had to get Shelby on board.
Granted, picking her parents’ bar was a problem, but it was Friday night and it’d be busy because of their promotions. Her dad knew what was up, and I hoped he’d tell her mom because Lucy Daniels was a wildcard.
It was where Shelby got it from.
I stepped out of the elevator and paused. The unmistakable sound of the Backstreet Boys was blaring from our apartment, and I stopped for a second to stare at the door.
Had I gone back in time fifteen years?
What was going on inside there?
Tentatively, I made my way toward the door and pulled my keys out. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, only to be greeted by one hell of a sight.
Shelby.
Mopping.
And singing.
Her hair was pulled on top of her head in a messy bun with tendrils escaping at the nape of her neck, curling against her skin. She wore a tight white tank top and hot-pink shorts that only just covered her ass.
That was swaying.
She was dancing. And she was singing. Holy fuck, was she singing. The mop was her own personal microphone, and she swung it to the right, her eyes closed, as she sang along to “I Want It That Way.”
I was frozen to the spot. Mostly because it hit me that this was the kind of shit she did when she was alone. She’d spent the morning taking the piss out of me for singing Ed Sheeran in the shower, and here she was, singing Backstreet Boys while mopping the floor.
This was the best thing I’d ever seen.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and set the camera to record. She had no idea I was here because she was blasting the music so loudly.
Oh, my fuck. She was performing a concert. This was the best thing I’d ever seen.
Screw her showing my baby pictures at my wedding.
This video was going online on her thirtieth birthday.
Or her wedding—whichever happened first. Not that I’d let her marry anyone but me, but whatever. That was moot right now.
Because the song was now fucking “MMMbop.”
She continued on singing like she didn’t have an audience. I guess in her mind, she didn’t.
I loved that she apparently listened to nineties boyband pop while she cleaned alone.
I pushed the door open, stopped the video, and quietly walked over to her. The second the chorus kicked in, I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me, humming into her ear.
Shelby screamed, jumping away from me. She brandished the mop as a weapon while I laughed my fucking ass off.
“Oh, my God!” She shoved the mop at me, going to hit me with it. “You gave me a heart attack!”
“Turn the elementary school disco down then!”
She grabbed her phone from the island and turned the music down. “There.” She scowled. “Better?”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “Is this how you clean when I’m not here?”
Her cheeks blazed. “No comment.”
Hell, I wanted to scoot forward and kiss her. “I want to tease you, but I won’t. We’re on borrowed time.”
“We are?” She gripped the mop with both hands. “Why? Has Planet Earth been invaded by aliens with three penises?”
“What the hell are you ghostwriting?”
“You don’t want to know.” She shook her head. “Well? Has it?”
“Not to my knowledge.” I dumped my bag by the door. “But tonight is our first date.”
Shelby’s eyebrows shot up. “It is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You move fast.”
“You have no idea.” I wiggled my brows for emphasis.
Her cheeks flushed a fresh shade of pink. “All right, where are we going?”
“Your parents’ bar.”
“What?” The mop clattered to the floor. “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind? Who wants their first date with their best friend in front of their parents?”
I held up my hands and darted behind the island to put some distance between us. “I told your dad. He’s breaking it to your mom, but I think she already knew I liked you.”
Shelby grunted, glaring at me.
“It’s Friday night. I don’t have to work tomorrow. It’ll be busy. I have it planned out. C’mon.” I gave her my best effort at puppy dog eyes.
It backfired.
She laughed instead of giving in. “There are hungry wolves who could look more innocent than that!”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. I swear.”
“You’re paying all night,” she warned me, since her parents didn’t usually charge us when we were all together.
“Your dad already knows. He’s opened a tab and whatever you want is on me.”
She studied me for a second. “I’m not okay with this.”
“You will be by the time we’re done.” My lips tugged to one side. “I promise. You’ll laugh your ass off the entire time.”
“I don’t think I trust you, Jay Cooper.”
“You don’t have to trust me. You just have to pretend you do.” My tiny smile became a full-fledged grin, and though she fought her own smile, she eventually broke.
“Screw you!” She laughed, bending over to pick up the mop. “If my parents say anything—”
“They won’t.” I figured I was safe to come out from behind the island and approached her. She looked beautiful without her makeup, and I cupped her chin with my right hand. “Your parents’ bar, eight-fifteen. Got it?”
She thrust the mop at me. “Got it. Finish this, would you? I have a hot date to get ready for.”
She turned on her heel, stalking off toward the bathroom, and I laughed as I watched her go.
Maybe this wouldn’t be the disaster I was afraid it would be.
Because let’s be honest—it wasn’t my best idea. Taking her to her parents’ bar could go one of two ways, and if I hadn’t caught her dad earlier and told him I was taking her out—much to his delight—I wouldn’t be daring this so soon.
Fact was, I wanted her.
I wanted this date to happen as soon as possible. I wanted her as soon as possible—I wanted to redefine the parameters of our relationship, to go further than stupid make-out sessions.
I wanted more.
I wanted her. I wanted to be hers, even if she had yelled at me before I left because I’d left a pan soaking in the sink and it’d turned the water grimy and I hadn’t emptied it out.
It was worth it.
Fuck, it had to be worth it.
• • •
Shelby was already sitting at the bar when I got there. She was talking to h• • •er dad with her back to me, so I slid onto a stool at the empty table Tom had reserved for us. He caught my eye, and I couldn’t believe I was pulling this off.
All right, so I was a little ahead of myself here. I’d only walked in and sat down. I still had to pull off the whole ‘strangers’ thing I’d suggested, something that seemed cuter on paper than in real life.
How did you explain yourself to the person who knew everything about you?
One of the servers brought a beer over to my table and I thanked him, just watching Shelby. She’d hidden in her room before I’d left, and now I saw why.
I’d never actually seen her on a date before. I usually saw her in yesterday’s sweatpants and a tank top with crumbs all over it. That was her uniform, so seeing her like this was different.
Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, perfectly straight, and her body was hugged by a black dress that had a slit at her knee.
I almost didn’t want to see her from the front. I didn’t think I could take it if she looked this good from the back.
I nodded to her dad when he caught my eye again. He leaned over the bar, pointing in my direction. Shelby turned her head, frowning at me.
I grinned.
She turned back to her dad for a brief second, then grabbed her wine glass and walked over to join me at the table.
I was right. I couldn’t cope w
ith how beautiful she looked. Her dress had a high neckline that left her arms totally bare, and she wore black high heels that made my eyebrows raise when I stood to greet her.
Touching her hip, I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Hi. I’m Jay.”
“Oh, my God.” She laughed. “Are we really doing the stranger thing?”
“Yes.” My lips twitched. “Hey—you’re wearing high heels. Anything is possible.”
She stuck her tongue in her cheek before she smiled and rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“It’s part of my charm.”
“Did you have my dad keep me busy at the bar just to do this?”
I shook my head with a serious look on my face and pulled out her chair. “No. As a complete stranger, I’ve never met the man at the bar before.”
Shelby covered her pink lips with her hand as she sat down. “This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m writing a book about aliens with three penises for a client.”
“Oh, you’re a writer?”
She looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It took her a minute before she sagged, smiling, even though it was clearly against her will. “All right. I’ll play along. Even though this is totally stupid.”
The grin on my face was so wide it was going to split my cheeks. “Let’s start again. Hi. I’m Jay.”
She took a deep breath, and the expression that flashed across her face told me she couldn’t believe she was doing this. “I’m Shelby. It’s nice to meet you, Jay.”
She was right. This was ridiculous. But shit, we’d started it now, so we were going to see it through.
This was the last time I planned a first date.
“So, Shelby, what do you do for a living?”
Her lips twitched and she cradled her wine glass. “I’m a writer.”
“Oh? What do you write?”
“Personally, I write romance, but I also do freelance research articles for local papers and ghostwrite.”
“What’s ghostwriting?” I leaned forward. And, hey, it was a valid question. I wasn’t actually entirely sure.
“Other people hire me to write books for them. Depending on how much work they want done, some people will send me a rough outline and I’ll start from scratch, but others will send me a really rough draft and have me re-work it into a proper book.”