Jake Me

by Sabrina Stark

  Unfortunately, the stranger and I weren't the only ones tracking Jake's movements. As Jake passed the front desk, Brody lunged forward. He raised a meaty fist and hit Jake, hard, in the side of the face. With barely a pause, Jake elbowed Brody in the neck and kept on going.

  Brody staggered backward, clutching at his neck like he was choking half to death. He slammed sideways against a tall decorative table, sending the table, along with an oversized flower arrangement crashing to the floor. The vase exploded into a million pieces, sending flowers and water cascading across the glossy tile.

  Standing behind the desk, Rango froze in obvious shock. His gaze slid to me, and I saw raw panic darken his features. He glanced around, as if looking for an easy out.

  Brody pushed himself up from the wet floor and staggered to his feet. His pants were soaked, and his shirt wasn't much better. He looked wildly around and spotted Jake, who by now, had nearly reached the door. Baring his teeth, Brody dove for a nearby Ficus tree. Wrapping his beefy arms around the oversized pot, he lifted the thing high over his head. He hurled it, plant and all, straight in Jake's direction.

  But by the time it got there, Jake was already gone. The plant missed Jake by several feet and crashed into a glass coffee table. The table collapsed, sending broken glass everywhere and magazines fluttering to the floor. The plastic tree, now loose from its pot, skidded through the debris before finally coming to a stop near a brown armchair.

  In front of me, Chet and the blond now had their backs to the door, with Jake heading straight for them. Like a giant rabid squirrel, Chet took a flying leap in Jake's direction. Without breaking his stride, Jake raised a forearm. Chet crashed into the arm, bounced off it, and staggered into a nearby sofa. The sofa toppled over, taking Chet with it.

  Poking out from under the overturned sofa, I saw a foot, a hand, and I swear, Chet's flask, sloshing liquid onto the tile floor in a slow, steady stream.

  In front of me, Jake plowed past the blond to reach for the door. He shoved at the door handle, and the door flew open.

  Beside me, the stranger gave a little squeak. His hand dropped from my elbow, but he held his ground and said, "Run!"

  I didn't run. Instead, I lunged forward, meeting Jake in the open doorway. Jake reached for me, pulling me inside the building and into his arms.

  I heard his voice, rough in my ear. "You okay?"

  I nodded against him. "Yeah. It's fine. I just got locked out, that's all."

  His voice was deadpan. "That's all?"

  I tried to laugh. "Oh shut up."

  I told myself it wasn't a big deal. I was fine. Jake was fine. So why was I still clinging to him? It's not like we were together anymore. But I couldn't help it. He felt way too good, and I couldn't seem to make myself let go. With my cheek pressed against his hard chest, I turned to look at Rango.

  His face was pale, and his eyes were wide. He glanced over at Brody, who sometime in the last minute had scooted around the front desk to join Rango behind it.

  Against me, I felt Jake's muscles tighten. He gave Rango a long look and said, "You've got one minute to get the fuck out."

  Rango bared his teeth. "We're done anyway." He flicked his head toward the rest of group. "Come on," he told them. "We're outta here."

  I heard a thud and turned to look. Apparently, Chet was still underneath the fallen sofa. "Hey!" he called out, giving the sofa another kick. "Get this thing off me, will ya?"

  Under any other circumstance, I might have laughed. There was a good reason the sofa was too heavy to lift. The blonde was leaning with her backside against it. Her eyes were bright, and her lips were parted. She was gazing at Jake like he was the tastiest morsel she'd seen in forever.

  When Chet kicked the sofa again, the blonde sighed and moved forward. Chet gave another kick, and maybe a shove. The sofa toppled over onto its other side, leaving Chet exposed, sprawled in a puddle of his own booze. Slowly, he got to his feet. Standing in the soggy mess, he turned to give Rango a dirty look. "Some party, asshole."

  "Quit your bitching," Rango said. "Not my fault you're a lightweight."

  Muttering, Chet stooped to retrieve his fallen flask. With a look of defiance, he threw back his head, opened his mouth, and lifted the flask high above his parted lips. He tipped the flask upside-down and waited.

  Nothing happened.

  The blond giggled.

  With a string of curses, Chet hurled the empty flask across the lobby.

  Behind the front desk, Rango turned to Brody. "Come on," Rango said. "Party at my place."

  Together, the two guys sauntered out from behind the counter. When they reached Chet, he turned to shuffle after them.

  Jake and I were still by the door. I held my breath. The guys were heading straight for us. Around me, Jake's arms were steady and rock-hard. He didn't move a muscle as the three guys brushed past us and walked into the rain.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally.

  But then, something odd occurred to me. Neither of the girls had moved.

  And I had a pretty good idea why.

  Chapter 24

  From a few feet away, Julie was staring at Jake. "You're that Jake guy. Aren't you?" She looked around the lobby. "So, where's the camera?" With a nervous laugh, she reached up to smooth her hair. "Is this going on your channel or something?"

  I glanced at Jake. Judging from the look on his face, the girl was more likely to get a kick in the pants than a featured spot in one of his videos.

  The blond sidled next to her friend. "Heeeey," she slurred. "I saw him first." She turned to give Jake a long, lingering look. "So, uh, you wanna get out of here?"

  Jake eyed her with disgust. "No."

  She frowned. "Why not?"

  I couldn't let that go. "You've got to be kidding," I told her. "Why would he go anywhere with you?"

  She gave a drunken little giggle. "Sweetie, if I've got to explain it–"

  "You don't," I said.

  Beside me, Jake spoke. "You wanna know what I want?"

  The girl batted her eyelashes up at him. "What?"

  "For you to get the hell out."

  Her face froze. "Jeez, you don't have to be so mean about it."

  I snorted. "Says the girl who pushed me out the door."

  "Naw, that was Chet," she said, "because he told me to."

  Oh great. Drunk logic. My favorite. "So if Chet told you to jump off a bridge—" I rolled my eyes. "You know what? Never mind."

  Behind the blond, Julie had turned to study her reflection in the hotel window. "How's my hair?" she asked. "It looks good, right?"

  I pointed to the door. "Get out. Both of you."

  The blonde made another pouty face. "But it's raining out there."

  "Good." I turned to look outside and stifled a gasp. The hotel guest. He was still standing on the sidewalk, hunkered down under his umbrella as he stared at us through the glass. Oh crap. I'd completely forgotten about him.

  Reluctantly, I turned back to the girls. They needed to leave, like yesterday.

  I pointed to the hotel's royal blue welcome mat, emblazoned with its ornate company logo. "Hey, could you two stand on that rug for a second?"

  Julie's gaze narrowed. "Why should we?"

  Glancing toward the ceiling, I said in a hushed voice, "Better camera angle."

  "Oh," Julie whispered. "Got it." She scampered toward the rug, with the blond right on her heels. They stopped, turned around, and struck a pose.

  "Hang on," I said. "Just one more thing." Stepping forward, I reached behind them to prop open the glass door. "Alright," I said. "Smile!"

  When they did, I reached out and gave them both a shove. Squealing in surprise, they stumbled backward through the open door. I lunged for the door handle and yanked it shut. And then, I twisted the lock until it clicked.

  Outside, the rain had picked up. Standing in the downpour, the girls stared at me in open-mouthed fury.

  "You bitch!" yelled the blond.

  "My hair!" scre
amed Julie.

  A moment later, a big, dark Lexxus sport utility vehicle raced up to the curb. The driver's side window slid down. Chet popped his head out to yell, "You bitches comin' or what?"

  Cupping her hands protectively above her head, Julie turned and made a mad dash for the Lexxus. She wrenched open the backseat and tumbled inside, crawling over Brody, who – the way it looked – was refusing to give up his window seat.

  With a final, murderous glare, the blond turned to stumble and splash her way toward her friends. A moment later, she was safely inside. The Lexxus roared away from the curb, leaving nothing but sloshing rainwater in its wake.

  Standing on the sidewalk, the man with the umbrella stared after them. After they rounded the nearest corner, he turned his gaze back to the hotel. And me.

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open to let him in. "So," I said with a shaky smile, "are you checking in?"

  Chapter 25

  His name was Jonas Clark, and his flight had been delayed six hours in Atlanta, which explained why he was checking in at nearly four o'clock in the morning.

  From behind the front desk, I finished the check-in process. "And here's your room key," I said, handing over the key card in its small cream-colored sleeve. "Have a nice stay, Mister Clark."

  Tentatively, he took the card and stooped to pick up his overnight case. Turning toward the front entrance, he paused to take a long look around. Following his gaze, I saw what he saw – overturned furniture, sloppy wet floors, and bits of broken glass everywhere.

  And then, near the front entrance, there was Jake, standing in profile, with hard eyes and crossed arms. The way it looked, he was watching both the lobby and the street. We still hadn't had the chance to talk, but that time was obviously coming soon.

  I gave Mister Clark a cheery wave as he hoisted his overnight case higher and turned toward the small bank of elevators. When the elevator door finally closed behind him, I breathed a giant sigh of relief and rushed out from behind the front desk.

  "Come on," I told Jake as I scurried to the overturned sofa. "Help me lift this back up, will ya?"

  He looked toward the sofa. "No."

  I stopped to look at him. "Why not?"

  "Because you're not lifting anything." Jake took a long look around. "Where the hell is the manager?"

  "He's in the back office, and let's hope he stays there." I let out a long breath. "At least until I clean this up."

  I circled to the other side of the fallen sofa and cringed as I felt glass crunching beneath my shoes. I looked down and saw what used to be the coffee table, lying in a million pieces. Who was I kidding? Cleaning up was one thing, but most of this stuff was beyond repair.

  No matter what I did, I sure as hell couldn't put it back together again. Humpty Dumpty didn't just fall off the wall. He fell off the wall and was hit by an asteroid.

  Eyeing the destruction, I felt my brow wrinkle. Should I call the police?

  Jake moved toward me. "And the security guy?" he asked. "Where the hell is he?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think we have one."

  "Yeah. You do," he said. "I saw the guy last night."

  "Well, he's not here now."

  "Yeah," Jake said. "I got that."

  I stopped to look at him. "You know, if all you're going to do is stand there, looking mad at me, you might as well go up to your room." I froze as something else occurred to me. "In fact, what were you doing down here?"

  His jaw tightened. "Is that a complaint?"

  "No," I sighed. "It's not a complaint." My clothes were still damp, and so was my hair. I stifled a chill. If Jake hadn't shown up, I'd probably still be outside, standing in the rain. Vaguely, I wondered if Mister Clark had a spare umbrella.

  Jake's voice softened. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine." I shook off the cold. "I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier, but uh, thanks. Really. Those guys were totally out of control."

  "You think?" He shoved a hand through his hair. "Tell me something."

  "What?"

  "Why the hell were you out here alone?"

  "Technically, I'm not alone." I looked toward the closed office door. "The night manager's here." My voice faltered. "Supposedly."

  Jake pointed to something behind me. "See that chair?"

  I turned to look. He was pointing at an easy chair, situated right next to the front desk.

  "Yeah," I said. "What about it?"

  "That's where I should've been, reading a damn newspaper, no matter what you said."

  "You read the paper?"

  "What? You think I can't read?"

  "Oh stop it," I said. "You just don't strike me as the newspaper type, that's all."

  "Screw the paper," he said. "What I'd be looking at is you. Making sure you're okay."

  At this, I felt that familiar mix of joy and frustration. I felt myself smile, and then frown. Why did it always come down to that?

  "What is it?" Jake asked.

  I bit my lip. "It's just that I don't like this."

  "You don't like what?"

  "I don't like that the only reason you're down here is to look out for me, like I’m still a kid or something."

  Funny to think that's how Jake and I met, all those years ago. Back then, what I wanted more than anything was to be his girlfriend. If I were being completely honest, I still wanted to be his girlfriend.

  Maybe someday, I'd want to be more than his girlfriend. I heard myself sigh. And people in hell wanted ice cream sandwiches.

  Circling the fallen sofa, Jake moved toward me until we were close enough to touch. His gaze dipped to my lips. "You're no kid," he said. "You wanna know why I came down?"

  "Why?" I asked.

  "To talk."

  "About what?"

  His voice was softer now. "Us."

  Chapter 26

  Remnants of our last conversation drifted back to me, and I decided that my days of jumping to happy conclusions were long over. I kept my tone neutral. "What about us?"

  "Come back," he said.

  At those all-too-familiar words, I tried to laugh. "Oh no. Not this again."

  "Not what again?"

  "I'm not coming to work for you."

  He shook his head. "That's not what I meant." Looking away, he blew out a long, unsteady breath before returning his gaze to mine. "You know what I am?"

  I looked up at him. He was tall and dark, with chiseled features and tousled hair. He was sweet and dangerous. He was solid as stone, and unpredictable as hell. Just thinking of him, my stomach fluttered, and my knees grew weak.

  I knew exactly what Jake was. He was a dream come true. And he was my worst nightmare. Because no matter what happened between us, I couldn’t seem to get him out of my head.

  "I don't know," I said. "What are you?"

  He gave something like a laugh. "I'm a selfish prick."

  "Oh, stop it."

  "I am," he said. "And you wanna know why?"

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm finding it hard as hell to give you up."

  Slowly, he moved closer. I heard the crunching of glass and my own intake of breath. He was so near, I could touch him if I wanted to. Desperately, I did want to. But more than that, I wanted to know what exactly he was telling me.

  "What are you saying?" I asked.

  In front of me, his eyes smoldered in that familiar way, and the destruction around us faded to nothing. There was just Jake, and there was just me. In a surreal way, it felt like there was nothing else in this whole world. Watching him, my palms tingled, and my breath caught. And yet, he still didn't answer.

  Finally, just when his silence threatened to break my resolve, he spoke. "You were always my girl. You know that, right?"

  "Actually," I said, "I'm pretty sure I was mostly a pain in your butt."

  He smiled. It was a far-off smile, like he was seeing something in the far-distant past. "Yeah. You were."

  "Hey!" I said.

  "But then you weren't."
His gaze softened. "And you weren't a kid anymore either."

  I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, so you actually noticed?"

  "I noticed a lot of things," he said, "but Luna, you meant something to me."

  I swallowed. "I did?"

  "Yeah. And you still mean something to me. And if I weren't such a selfish bastard, I'd do the same thing I did back then."

  My heart clenched at the memory. I knew exactly what he had done. He had banished me – from him, from his friends, from anything to do with that group. There I was, seventeen years old, and I'd lost the thing I wanted most – him.

  He was supposed to be my first. Instead, he turned out to be the guy who broke my heart. Until last weekend, I hadn't even gotten a kiss out of the deal.

  "I'm not a teenager anymore," I reminded him.

  "No. You're not. But you'd still be smart to run."

  "Is that what you're trying to say?" I asked. "That we can't be—" I hesitated, not knowing what word to use. "—friends?"

  His lips formed the barest hint of a smile. "No. We can't be friends."

  "Oh."

  "Because the way I feel about you, there's nothing friendly about it." He visibly swallowed. "I love you." He reached for my hand. "I loved you long before this weekend, but—"

  "No buts," I said. "Jake?"

  "What?"

  "I love you too." I felt a jolt of surprise that I'd actually come out and said it – not because I wanted to be coy, but because his earlier words were still haunting my thoughts.

  I pray to God you never love me back.

  Screw that. I threw back my shoulders and said it again, louder this time. "I love you. And if you've got a problem with that, well, I don't know what. But you'll be sorry."

  "You don't know what you're saying."

  "I know exactly what I’m saying. Listen, if you think you're doing me a big favor by sparing my feelings or whatever, you're not. I already love you. The damage is done." With my free hand, I gave him a soft poke to the chest. "So you might as well give it up, mister."

  Slowly, he lowered his head to mine. His lips brushed my ear, and his voice was a caress. "Mister?"