Avoiding Amy Jackson

by N. A. Alcorn

  James’s laugh sounds full of relief and utter happiness. Why is he so freaking happy about my horrendous dating experience? “Babe, you need me to come save you? You know I’ll do it.”

  I sigh again into the phone, my mind mulling over the possibility of James saving me from this date. Should I let him come pick me up and tell Michael and his bench-pressing balls that I have an emergency? Or should I stay? If it weren’t Lizzy who set me up on this date, I would have already been in James’s car.

  “I appreciate that generous offer, but I think I should stay. I don’t want Lizzy to get pissed at me for standing up one of Ryder’s friends. Do you have the number of a suicidal hotline? You know, just in case I need it.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Ignore me. Thanks again for the offer.”

  James chuckles into the phone. “All right, well, if you change your mind, you’ve got my number.”

  “Goodnight, James.”

  “Night, doll.”

  Another tingle of disappointment pulls at my heartstrings as I hang up my phone. I’m just going to blame the disappointment on the fact that I have to go back inside and listen to Michael drone on about what exercises are perfect for my body type. His apparent need to critique everyone’s physique and offer up workout advice to people who couldn’t give a shit less has me more than irritated. Just to spite his health-conscious ass, I’m going to shovel those juicy meatballs down like it’s my cheat day on Weight Watchers and I just got home from doing my workout at Curves.

  I hang my head dejectedly as I walk back into the restaurant to finish the rest of my date. I’m praying that Michael and I are able to leave this date unscathed. If I can make it home tonight without shoving my balls down Michael’s throat or stabbing myself in the jugular with my fork, then I will consider it a success. I sit down in front of my date and he immediately excuses himself to go to the restroom.

  Thank god for peace and quiet.

  A few moments later, my phone vibrates inside of my purse.

  James: Where did he take you for dinner?

  Me: Mama Rosa’s

  James: You ordered the meatballs.

  Me: I do love big, juicy balls in my mouth.

  James: You better save some balls for me.

  Me: Who says you’re so special that I should let you taste my balls?

  James: No one said that, but I can say with 100% certainty that you’re special enough… I’ll

  always save my balls for you, doll.

  Michael comes back to the table and finds me chuckling to myself. “Everything okay?”

  “Of course,” I reply with a tight smile before sending James one more text and setting my phone face down in my lap.

  Me: For once in your life you managed to one-up me. Good work, Limp Dick.

  The waitress brings our food and I dodge small talk with Michael by spooning spaghetti into my mouth like a heathen. Truthfully, I’m all out of small talk kind of topics and I’m getting more annoyed by the second as I watch this guy eat his plain grilled chicken and asparagus. Who in the hell takes a women on a date to an Italian restaurant and yet refuses to ingest carbs?

  My phone pings with a text notification, and again, I’m thankful for the interruption.

  James: Three topics: Cam Newton, Paleo Diet & Crossfit. Those should buy you some time.

  “So, what do you think about Cam Newton this year?” I know enough about football to know that he’s an NFL Quarterback, and I’m praying that this will give Michael enough ammunition to dominate the conversation through the rest of dinner.

  “Well, we’ve got a big game against the Falcons Sunday…” And that’s all she wrote, Michael took that one topic and ran with it while I continued to gorge myself on carbohydrates and juicy meatballs.

  I guess you could say that Limp Dick saved the day…again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I refuse to become the crazy, masturbating, porn-addicted cat lady!” - Amy

  My date with Michael was a bust. I had him drive me home right after dinner with an excuse of a stomach ache. It wasn’t really a lie since I’d inhaled an entire plate of Mama Rosa’s spaghetti and meatballs. That is no easy feat, my friends. Their serving sizes are easily enough for two, if not three, people. I’m pretty sure I thoroughly disgusted my date and quite possibly put on an extra three pounds, all of it going straight to my ass.

  A few days ago, James talked me into inviting Ellen and Trent over to his place and making dinner for them in celebration of their upcoming bundle of joy. I still can’t believe that my best friend is going to have a baby. She’s due the first week of June and it’s already February. Her little baby bump is in full view these days. She couldn’t look anymore adorable.

  James’s place is to die for. He has this awesome apartment in a popular high-rise building in downtown Charlotte. I’m sure his surgeon salary has made this amazing pad easily affordable. His apartment is a penthouse—big shock there. Hardwood floors, stainless-steel appliances, granite counter tops, and beautiful arched ceilings. The floor plan is very open and spacious, yet it manages a modernly intimate feel. The kitchen is ah-mazing. Everything you could possibly need and enough space to cook for an entire football team. I’m not much for cooking, seeing as I’m more likely to store my handbags and heels in the oven, but I can still appreciate a nice kitchen.

  I picked up a few essentials for our dinner on my way over to James’s place. Wine, beer, and sparkling cider for Ellen. My best friend is a wino and tequila enthusiast, but her current knocked-up state has put the kibosh on ingesting any alcoholic beverages.

  As I’m unloading items from the two brown paper bags that are filled with my purchases from the grocery store, a loud buzzing noise resonates inside James’s apartment. His forehead rises in surprise. “That’s weird. I told Trent and Ellen to come over around eight. I’d say they’re kind of early,” he announces as he heads for the door.

  I place the beer and sparkling cider in the fridge, fully expecting the happy couple to walk into the kitchen soon. I’m overcome as a strange feeling encompasses me. I decide to investigate who is at the door. I walk into the foyer to find James standing in front of the open door, his back is ramrod straight. His demeanor looks stiff, a little uncomfortable. His hand rests on the edge of the large steel frame.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks, voicing his surprise.

  “I just wanted to see you. I’ve missed you, James,” a feminine voice purrs. The click-clack of her heels is apparent as she steps closer to him. “I thought we could catch up like old times,” she adds with a seductive finesse.

  He responds immediately. “Well, I’m having friends over for dinner. Now isn’t really a good time for you to just show up at my doorstep.”

  My heart pounds loudly inside of my chest. I’m shocked by this feeling, but I don’t have time to sort through my screwed-up psyche. I need to see who in the fuck is at his door. Seriously, who in the hell is this woman. Does he know her? Is he dating her?

  Is he fucking her?

  Nausea overwhelms me as the thought of James in bed with another woman hits me like a freight train. I hurry my steps and come to stand at his side. My eyes take in the unexpected visitor. Long blond hair that falls in soft curls past her shoulders. Scarlet lipstick accentuating her full lips that are formed in a flirtatious smirk. I don’t miss the heated, knowing, provocative expression her blue eyes exude. She is wearing a black satin trench coat that ends just above her knees. Her long calves are toned and her feet don black stilettos.

  “Who’s your guest, James?” I question with a bitchy tone to my voice. I can’t help myself. This woman has slut written all over her. He quickly glances in my direction and I sense his discomfort.

  She doesn’t even give me a second glance, unabashedly ignoring my presence. “Well, I can stop by later…after your guests have left,” the hussy offers, not allowing James the opportunity to answer my question.

  “I don’t think that
’ll be necessary,” James rebuts immediately. He slides his arm around my shoulder and tucks me into his side. “Kendall, this is Amy. Amy, this is Kendall…an old friend.” I immediately hate her. An old friend? Yeah, apparently he’s using this term very loosely these days. An old slutty fuck buddy would have probably been a better description.

  Kendall finally acknowledges me and her eyes give me a quick once-over. She doesn’t offer a hello, and neither do I. This bitch can suck it. For once in my life, I’m uncomfortable with this scenario. There’s obviously history here.

  History I want to know… Wait. No I don’t.

  “James, I think whatever you have on the stove is starting to burn.” That’s a lie. I’m determined to get him as far away from Kendall as physically possible. I feel possessive and this is unnerving. I choose to turn on my heels and head back into the kitchen. My brain can’t handle any more conversation between them. This woman is bound and determined to ‘catch up’ with James, and I don’t think I can tolerate hearing any more of her flirtatious responses.

  It hurts to think about James with other women.

  That doesn’t sound friendly.

  Oh fuck you, subconscious!

  I act like I’m busy putting stuff inside of his fridge when he walks back into the kitchen. All I’m doing is rearranging the beer in mindless movements. I’m such an idiot. What is wrong with me? Why do I care so much? I don’t care. No, I don’t care that James and that woman have a past. Maybe they’re still fucking each other’s brains out… God, I can’t even think about that without feeling like puking. Stop fucking thinking about it then! His sex life is none of your business.

  “Sorry about that,” he apologizes after I close the fridge. His eyes meet mine in a hesitant gaze.

  “No worries.” I try to convey that I’m unaffected.

  “Are you sure? I obviously didn’t invite her over here. I haven’t seen Kendall in a long time.” He runs his hands through his hair in unsure movements.

  I cringe at the sound of her name on his lips. “Seriously, you don’t have to explain anything to me. We’re friends, right?” I feel like I’ve just gutted myself with my own words.

  “Of course,” he agrees. His eyes analyze my face, taking in my current state. He doesn’t seem happy with whatever he found. James doesn’t push this topic of conversation any further or continue to offer any more reassurance. Instead, he turns for the stove and resumes making dinner.

  Why would I expect him to reassure me about anything?

  It’s not like we’re in a relationship.

  We’re friends. He can fuck, screw, date anyone he wants…

  I choose to push the uncertain emotions out of my head. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I rest my hip on the counter as I watch James move about his kitchen with finesse.

  “Nope,” he declares, loudly popping the p, his little endearing quirk I’ve come to love.

  “Come on, there’s got to be something I can do to help make dinner. Don’t make me look like the asshat who just sat around and watched you do all the work,” I demand with a determined gaze.

  He chortles as he adds some spices to the chicken in the skillet. Whatever uncomfortable moment that just past between us, he’s managed to brush off. “Okay. Just follow my instructions very closely. I don’t want you to mess this up.”

  I roll my eyes and place a hand on my hip, letting him see my annoyance.

  “Open that bottle of Merlot.”

  I give him a perplexed look but just go with what he’s telling me. Maybe he needs the wine for cooking. People use wine to cook, right? I uncork the bottle and wait for his next instructions.

  “Now pour the wine into a glass, but make sure it’s only about a third full. I need the measurements to be exact,” he instructs as he flips the chicken over in the pan and slides a casserole dish into the oven.

  I do as he asks and place the glass on the counter beside the stove. He shakes his head no, refusing to take it. “I need you to taste it first.”

  My nose scrunches up in confusion. I take a sip and then attempt to give him the glass. “Tastes fantastic. Here.”

  He shakes his head again and keeps his eyes intently on the stove, throwing more spices into the skillet. “Try it again. I need to make sure it’s perfect.”

  I take a hearty swallow and push the wine glass into his chest. “Here. Take the fucking glass before I throw it at you.”

  James laughs and shakes his head again. He completely ignores the wine glass that is pressed to his chest and steps around me to grab a few onions from the fridge. “I think you should taste it again.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye and a sexy smirk crests his mouth.

  I peek down at the glass and then back at him, finally catching up to his ulterior motives. “You’re such an asshole, you know that? I must be off my game tonight, because it took me far too long to realize you were just trying to keep me occupied.” I raise my eyebrow at him. “It’s either that or you’re trying to get me drunk.”

  “Probably a little of both.” He shrugs and cocks his head to the side. His face beams into a giant smile, revealing all of his perfect pearly whites and one tiny dimple. That tiny dimple in the corner of his cheek is a secret dimple. It rarely comes out, but when it does, it’s one of my favorite things about him.

  I roll my eyes heavenward and walk away, heading towards his stereo. “What are you in the mood for?” I start scrolling through his iPod that’s docked above the speakers.

  “Whatever you want, bossy,” he responds while chopping an onion.

  “You have an awful lot of Frank Sinatra on here.”

  “Nothing beats Old Blue Eyes.”

  I accidentally press on The Way You Look Tonight as I’m browsing through all of James’s Frank Sinatra collection. The voice of one of the all-time greats starts to croon loudly from the speakers and I can’t help but grin. There is nothing like hearing the soulful, raspy, husky, most-perfect voice of Frank Sinatra.

  I feel James’s hand at the small of my back and his warm breath is on my neck as he whispers into my ear. “Come on, doll. Now you have to give me at least one dance.”

  I turn around to face him, and he grabs my hand, spinning me away from his body and then pulling me close as he starts to sway back and forth. A girlish giggle escapes my throat as I try to give him an exasperated look. He unleashes those emerald green eyes on me, and any sarcastic comment I was about to say gets caught in my throat. James tugs me closer; my head falls gently to rest on his chest as he starts to sing the words into my ear.

  I’m enjoying the feel of his warmth and embrace far too much for friendship standards, and I wish I could pull away from him, but for some reason…I can’t. I can’t and I don’t. I’m trapped in this entrancing moment and I continue to let him sway me back and forth to the music while serenading me.

  God, he feels good.

  His body is warm and his large hands make me feel like I have the tiniest waist in the world.

  I shouldn’t be thinking this or feeling this or wanting this.

  These are not friendly thoughts.

  James looks down at me as he places his hand under my chin, bringing my gaze to his. His eyes lock with mine. Those green orbs nearly knock me on my ass and have reduced me to a woman who is swooning over a dance. All I can think about is that he’s beautiful and his arms are the most comfortable place in the world. James is without a doubt the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Somehow, he’s managed to burrow himself into every facet of my life, and now he’s looking at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

  Is he going to kiss me?

  Do I want him to kiss me?

  Yes. Fucking kiss me, dickhead.

  I bite down on my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The force of his eyes does things to me that I’m not willing to admit to anyone, even myself. His eyes move down to my lips, locking their gaze to them and staring at them with an urgent hunger.

  A famili
ar buzzing sound pulls my attention away from him.

  “Open up, assholes! Don’t make a starving pregnant woman stand out here and wait!” I hear Ellen’s voice yell through the door.

  James kisses the top of my forehead, his lips lingering longer than most would consider friendly. “Thanks for the dance, sweetheart,” he throatily whispers to me before heading for the door.

  I’m left standing in his living room, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

  I turn away and look out the large window that encompasses the entire living room. My eyes glance lazily around the view of downtown Charlotte, my mind in an unfamiliar fog. I shut my eyes and let out the deep breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I’m not sure what just occurred between James and me. I can’t really wrap my brain around the feelings, the emotions that passed between us.

  Was he feeling the same way I was?

  He was looking at me with an undeniable intensity, an almost palpable passion. And when his eyes focused on my lips, it felt as if he could hardly hold himself back from eating me whole. His hands gripped my hips tightly, causing a silent shudder to rack through my entire body. My fingers trace my bottom lip gently, feeling the sore spot I bit.

  “You okay?” Ellen questions quietly as she comes to stand beside me.

  “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I give her a bewildered look as I pull my focus away from the window. She looks adorable. Her baby bump is proudly pronounced in an adorable pink maternity shirt she paired with black leggings and ballet flats. Her boobs are ridiculously huge at this point in her pregnancy. Ellen has always had generous curves—not nearly as generous as mine—but right now, she’s has to be sporting double D’s. Pregnancy does some crazy, ridiculous things to your body.

  “First of all, stop looking at my enormous tits. I know they’re huge. And seriously, my nipples have to be the size of saucers right now. Secondly, you were just standing here in a daze, like you were trying to solve the hardest mathematical equation known to man. What were you just thinking about?” She places her hands on either side of my shoulders, bringing us to stare down. I know why she’s doing this; she’s going to try to use those notorious cross-examination skills of hers to figure out what has me so baffled.