by Stacey Lynn
“Thanks for doing the dishes, too,” I tell Trey once I’ve filled my cup and taken another hearty gulp. “That was nice.”
“Your breakfast should still be warm. I didn’t want to wake you but figured if you woke after I headed back up to my place, you could warm it. You okay? And I don’t mean your hangover.”
I’ve never felt more unsettled in my life. I’ve never before felt the heaviness that comes with regret and fear of missed opportunities.
Still, I nod and grab a slice of bacon. “I’ll be fine.”
“Want the day off? I need to go shower and clean up, but we can put work off today if you need to.”
“No.” The distraction would serve me well. “Give me an hour and I’ll be ready. I’ll come to you.”
He heads to me and kisses my cheek, throws his arm around my shoulders, and tugs me to him. “Take care of yourself, Caty-bug. Call me if you don’t feel up to it.”
He leaves, and I frown. What in the heck did Jonas say to him to make him so worried about me? It’s not like he hasn’t seen me hungover before, or hell, not that we haven’t moaned over mutual hangovers together. Granted, they don’t come often, but there’s something different in his expression, a deeper concern than one night of recklessness.
Whatever. He’s probably thinking of the next project he’s starting, and the heavy look on his face has nothing to do with me.
* * *
—
I’m sitting on my couch, feet tucked under me. I have another thirty minutes before I have to get to Trey’s place to start work, and more than once I’ve debated texting him to let him know I’m calling off work. A day of Vampire Diaries and Lifetime movies is almost too tempting to resist. While I’m feeling better, my headache now a dull thump I can ignore, it’s the messages on this stupid life-altering dating app that have grabbed my attention and caused me to lose all desire to work.
Michael: Where is the best place to shop for lightsabers?
Caitlin: I don’t know. Where?
Michael: The Darth Maul.
I laugh. It’s too stupid not to make you giggle while performing a massive eye roll.
Caitlin: Lame. Do better.
Michael: What’s a baseball player’s least favorite Star Wars movie?
Caitlin: Seriously?
Michael: The Umpire Strikes Back.
Caitlin: You are scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Michael: Don’t fault the joke book I’ve had for years. This is good stuff.
At least a joke book explains the ridiculousness. And there’s something sweet about it. How long has he had this thing that he can still pull it out just to make me laugh? And why go through the effort? I’m intrigued.
Michael: In all seriousness, I would like to make it up to you about last night. Tuesday? Same time same place?
I have no desire to step foot into Dirty’s for the immediate future, and yet curiosity still tugs at me. Why is this guy, the one I barely know, and who has already stood me up, drawing me to him with corny jokes?
My thumb hovers over the reply button right as another message alert pops up. I scan over to it and open it, reading it as my smile pulls into a frown.
Logan: Any time for lunch this week? My treat.
Ugh. We’ve messaged back and forth a few times since our date ended so abruptly last week, and while I still enjoy talking to Logan, there’s nothing about this message that makes me feel any sort of tug like the ones from Michael.
Or the visceral reaction I have to Jonas. Which means it’s time to let this guy go, but ending over a text when he’s been nothing but nice doesn’t sit right, either.
I can be an adult about this, but there’s no way he’s paying for my lunch.
Sure. Tomorrow?
Perfect. Southside Cafe at 12:30?
I pull up the café I’ve never heard of, surprised when I see it’s just around the corner from Dirty’s. I’ll have to walk by the restaurant to get to the café, and the thought alone gives me other ideas of things I should take care of tomorrow. Namely, Jonas. I text Logan back that that will work and I’ll see him then, and then chew on the side of my thumbnail.
Now, what in the heck do I do about Michael? I can’t give him a chance until I figure out a way to clear things up with Jonas. I have to at least try.
Pull on my big-girl pants and let him know what I’m thinking, why I essentially threw myself at him last night despite his rejection. Six months ago he came to me and wore his heart on his sleeve, knowing the risk. Perhaps it’s my turn to do the same.
If only that thought didn’t make me feel like I might puke, it’d be fantastic.
Before I can second-guess myself, bravery somehow suffusing itself into my fingers, I pull up Jonas’s name on my contact list and send him a quick text.
I’m so sorry about last night. Thanks for everything. Can we get together some night this week and talk? There are things I need to say.
There. There’s no way he’ll let me back out of that one. Now I only have to hope he wants to listen.
Before I can stare at my phone, waiting for his reply to come through and driving me batshit crazier than I already am, I grab my files and laptop, slide my feet into my slippers, and head to Trey’s place.
Except I’m not even to his place yet when my phone vibrates in my hand, and I know without looking it’s Jonas replying.
How? I have no clue. I just know he’s a nice guy and despite the awkward levels we had to reach last night, he’s too nice of a guy to ignore me.
Intrigued. And don’t worry about last night. Busy week at the bar, and I can’t get away. Any chance you can swing by tomorrow after dinner?
Which puts me there right before Michael wants to meet anyway. Which could be perfect or horrific.
But at least this way, I can settle things with Jonas before meeting him, and if Jonas is open to me or to trying something again with me, then I can let Michael down in person and apologize.
Look at me…being adult and shit.
I pull up PerfectMatch and open my message string to Michael. Tomorrow sounds good. See you then.
And then I go to my text from Jonas. Six-thirty-ish?
Sounds great-ish. ;-)
I press the button to take me to Trey’s floor and step in, catching my reflection in the doors, and it’s only then I realize I’m smiling. Excited. Color has pinkened my cheeks and made feel alive.
The only question: Is it because of Jonas? Or Michael?
Chapter 19
Jonas
Tonight. It’s all I can think about, and I’m surprised with myself when I realize I’m almost skipping down the cobblestone street on my way to grab lunch before heading to Dirty’s. There’s a sweet little café, and while I normally eat something from the restaurant’s kitchen while I’m working, some days it’s nice to get out on the streets and clear my head, walk off the stress of my own job, and have someone else cook for a change.
Today is one of those days where I definitely need to do that. I’ve barely slept at all since I left Caitlin’s place. I didn’t want to do anything other than crawl into her bed next to her and make sure she didn’t get sick in the night.
The last thing I wanted to risk seeing was the look of regret on her face when she remembered she kissed me and tried to talk me into taking her to bed in a completely different way than I actually did. Yeah, it killed, but thankfully Trey was still awake when I called him, and he came right down. Little was said, but considering he already knows how I feel about her, he also knew I wouldn’t be leaving if it hadn’t been the absolute right thing to do.
I was shocked as hell when she texted me yesterday morning. Was she apologizing for getting too drunk? Hell, I didn’t even realize she’d had too much to drink until her face turned green. We certainly hadn’t been slinging back drinks left and right. Or was she apologizing for kissing me?
Tonight I’m laying all my cards out on the table, and I’m fighting for what I want. But after the weekend, there’s no
way I can continue to try to be someone else through our messages, as frivolous as they are. She likes the jokes, and I only knew she’d like them before because I know her so damn well. If she were to take a single second, she’d start to figure it out. I don’t want to have to dig my way out of a hole any deeper than it already is.
I pull open the door to the Southside Café, an odd name considering it’s in central Portland, and quickly scan the retro, modern restaurant. Light wood chairs that are so thin they look breakable and stainless steel table legs with Formica tops that wrap from the floor across the top all the way to the floor on the other side. This little café has always made me feel more like I’m walking into a science lab in high school than a place for great food, but they serve some of the best and greasiest burgers I’ve found in the city.
I’m headed to the counter to place a to-go order when I catch on wide green eyes, and my steps slow. Caitlin has her back to the windows, and her fork, filled with green salad, is at her mouth that looks like it’s come unhinged. On the other side of her is a guy I recognize, because he’s turned in his chair to see what snagged her attention.
Logan? It is. It most definitely is the same guy.
She’s eating lunch with the guy she met at Dirty’s last week? The one where I freaked out and was a dick to before he could kiss her?
Holy fucking shit. Had I been reading Caitlin the wrong way entirely, and she was interested in this guy? My hands, shoved into the pockets of my coat to stay warm, clench into fists as the guy sitting across from her recognizes me.
Fuck this. My heart is racing, my jaw aches from clenching it, with shock…and what?
Frustration with myself for being sucked back into Caitlin’s damn vortex all over again. Jesus, this is just as painful as the day I told her I wanted to take her on an actual date, and she gave me a look filled with such pity it was almost impossible to scrape my balls off the floor as I walked away.
And here she is…on a damn fucking date the day I’ve been willing to risk that humiliation all over again.
Because I love her. Stupid, stupid me.
I can’t fathom the expression on my face, but she flinches at whatever look I give her, and I turn. I’m out of there, on the curb and almost a block away, before her voice echoes down the street.
“Jonas! Jonas! Wait!”
Damn me. I’m a sucker for punishment.
I stop and run my hand down my face, sliding it across my jaw as she reaches me.
“Hey.” Hey? That’s the best I’ve got?
She rushes to me, breath panting, cheeks hot pink. She doesn’t have a coat on.
She rubs her hands together ferociously to warm them, and it takes everything in me not to dig out my own gloves, or give her my coat. There’s no way her thin blue sweater is warm enough for her.
“Hey,” she says, and I swear her cheeks turn darker. “You weren’t even going to say hi?”
Me? This is my fault? I scoff. “You seemed busy, Caitlin.”
I can’t hold back the pain in my voice. I’ve never actually considered myself a pussy, but I might have to check out the status of my body equipment. She’s ripping my heart out with her bare hands, and she’s not even aware she holds it.
Her hair is held back in one chunk at her temple, the rest falling in a beautiful sheet of red past her shoulders. With the sun finally shining, it almost sparkles like vibrant copper, and everything about her expression draws me to her.
I lift my chin. “Are you seeing him?”
“Oh. Well, it’s just lunch. He asked, and I thought I should meet him in person to tell him we’re not going anywhere.”
Sweet, sweet relief pulses in my veins.
She tilts her head to the side and chews on the corner of her bottom lip. Fuck, what is it about that move that makes me want to slam my mouth to hers and be the one biting that lip? I have to get out of here.
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Why?” I choke out the word.
She releases her lip and presses her lips together. Her smile is so sweet, barely there, and gone as she runs her hand through her hair while saying, “Well, I guess…can we talk about this tonight? Do you still want me to stop by?”
Right. Funny how a few minutes ago I was looking forward to seeing her with the nervous anticipation of a teenager hoping to score on prom night. Now it’s all muddled. I might have to rethink tonight’s plan.
“Yeah. Still six-thirty?”
Her smile softens. A pink blooms on her cheeks. It might be the cold, but as she steps closer to me and presses her hand to my forearm, heat sweeps through me. She rolls to her toes, and her warm breath skims my cheeks right before her lips brush against the hinge of my jaw. Holy shit. My hand goes to her waist because it’s Caitlin and I can’t not touch her while she’s seducing me sweetly.
“See you later, Jonas. And thanks again for taking care of me the other night.”
My fingers grip her waist tighter, digging in through the thin fabric of her sweater, and she shivers. That is most definitely not from the cold.
Please…for once let the look in her eyes be more about sex than friendship.
“See you then.” She releases my arm, and I reluctantly let her go. Back to finish having lunch with another man who might be a nice guy, but I still want to punch him in the face.
“I should get back. Logan has a short lunch break.”
“Hurry inside. You’re getting cold.”
Her smile turns sweet, and the bloom on her cheeks darkens. “Later, Jonas.” She raises her hand, and I nod my head, crossing my arms over my chest as she turns and heads back inside. From the windows, I catch Logan’s gaze on me. I glare at him, unable to hide it, and in that split second before Caitlin returns to him, understanding washes over him. He dips his chin.
Manspeak through a crowd and windows. He’s conceding to me, and he’d better.
I might have just freaked out, but there’s no way in hell I’m losing sight of the end goal, and that’s that by tonight, Caitlin will definitely know she has other options than some stupid fucking dating app, and I’ve been standing in front of her, waiting, for too damn long to back out now.
I head back to the bar and whip up some food for me there since my lunch plans at Southside were derailed.
I’m back in my office, tucked away and finishing the upcoming schedules so I can plan out the rest of the evening, when my phone has a message from the dating app.
I’ve ignored and swiped “decline” on every message and profile to pop up except for Caitlin’s, so I already know who the message is from before I read it.
A smile breaks out on my face I can’t hide, once I do.
I’m sorry. I don’t think we should meet. I do really enjoy messaging you, and another day, it might have worked, but I’ve met someone and I’ve enjoyed talking with you, but I have to pursue this.
It’s cryptic. That small burst of jealousy pumps through my blood as I grip my phone.
It’s not Logan. And I know she’s seeing me tonight, but I still can’t help but wonder if there’s someone else.
Still, I type out a quick response.
I understand. And that’s quite the disappointment for me. Hope things work out for you.
Little does she know she’s about to meet both in person, and I can only hope she realizes why I’ve done what I did and can forgive me for it. I print the schedule out, shut down my computer, and tell Tucker I’m heading out.
I only have a few remaining hours to prepare for tonight, and I need to get my ass moving.
Chapter 20
Caitlin
I’m a mess. An absolute horrid mess beneath my put-together appearance. I’ve changed clothes since I met Logan and ran into Jonas earlier today, and it’s still Jonas’s expression as he recognized who I was eating lunch with that is keeping me from crumbling into an even larger disaster.
Teagan walks into my bedroom, eyes widening at the clothing tornado that h
as erupted all over my floor.
“Wow,” she drawls and tiptoes over a pile of dresses and high-heeled shoes. She has a glass of pink champagne held carefully in her hand. “Um, I thought you might need a drink to settle your nerves, but now I’m thinking we just need the whole bottle.”
“I can’t do this. I mean, what is wrong with me?” My hands fly to my hips. I’m hot and flushed. My mascara is at risk of running if I don’t get my emotions in check. Champagne might not be the best solution to calming me down.
It’s Jonas, for crying out loud. Just Jonas. The guy who I think might like me back still, after this afternoon. But if I was scared of tonight before running into him today, I’m at risk of having a heart attack now. I can’t believe he walked into the café when Logan and I were there, and I’m still thinking I might have imagined the look of utter pain to slash his features as he realized who I was with. And the way he watched me on the street? He’d been so relieved when I said it was just lunch and I was letting him down in person.
Why? His voice was so rough. Like he almost didn’t want to hear the answer and had to ask anyway. It took me by such surprise I couldn’t answer, although a part of me wanted to confess everything.
And yet I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never offered up pieces of my heart to anyone. I’ve never been so vulnerable.
Why in the hell do people fall in love in the first place? It’s not fun. It’s scary as hell to open yourself into trusting someone else.
And love?
Me?
Jonas?
I flip back to the full-length mirror and brush down my skirt. I’m wearing a freaking skirt in January. I need my head examined. I need a joint to chill me the F down, and I’ve never touched drugs in my life. But that’s what it does, right? I mean, everyone I’ve ever seen who was high is so damn calm. That’s what I need.
My eyes bounce to Teagan in the reflection. She’s approaching me slowly, either being careful of the mess I’ve created with the entire contents of my closet or fearful I might lash out at her. “Do you have weed? I need some.”