by Amanda Abram
“Thanks,” I said. As I left the room with Jase, I could hear my father grumbling something to my mother about how midnight was way too late.
I held the front door open for Jase, but as soon as we were both outside, I quickly took off in front of him.
“Hey!” he called out from behind me. “What's the rush?”
“No rush,” I called back, not even turning my head to speak directly to him. But yet, I was walking awfully fast, which was a really bad idea, considering the shoes I was wearing, and considering the fact my driveway was not the most level area of ground on the earth. I had no sooner spoken those words before the heel of my shoe stepped on a rock, sending me off balance. As I began to topple forward, I saw my entire romantic life flash before my eyes, and I wanted to cry.
“Whoa.” Jase jumped in front of me and caught me before I was able to get a face-full of gravel. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist as he pulled me to him and steadied me. “You okay?” He glanced down at me, clearly amused.
Two minutes into our fake date, and I was already making an idiot out of myself.
“I'm fine,” I mumbled, trying to ignore the fact he had yet to let me go...trying to ignore the fact my hands were planted firmly on his chest and that we were oh-so-close. “I'm just not used to walking in these things.” I motioned down to my mother's shoes with my eyes.
“Ah,” he said, fully understanding. He let go of me then, taking away the comforting warmth he had brought with him. And then, he proceeded to look me up and down slowly, taking in almost every inch of me before returning his gaze to mine.
I held my breath, waiting for his response.
“You clean up pretty good,” he said, nodding with approval.
I let out the air I'd been holding in my lungs as I tried desperately not to frown. I ‘clean up pretty good’? I wanted to smack him. Granted, he wasn't really my boyfriend, and this wasn't really a date, but still. I was a girl. A girl who had gotten all dressed up to go out with him, and regardless of how he really thought I looked, all he was able to offer up was “you clean up pretty good”? It was all I could do not to just turn right around and go back into my house and call off this sorry excuse for a fake date.
“Thanks,” I said, gritting my teeth. “You don't look horrible either.”
And he didn't. Of course he didn't. Jase never looked horrible. He always looked hot, and he knew it.
“Thank you very much.” Pointing toward his car, he said, “Shall we?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
He opened the passenger door for me, like a gentlemen should, and I carefully climbed in, making sure my dress didn't ride up in the process. Honestly, I had no idea why some girls dressed like that all the time. It was too much of a hassle.
I stared down at my hands in my lap as he shut my door and then made his way around to the driver's side. The words “this was a huge mistake” began playing in a loop inside my head as he got in.
“So,” he said, grinning over at me. “Are you ready for the best date of your entire life?”
I glanced over at him and had to refrain from rolling my eyes. “Sure. Absolutely.”
“Good.” He turned on the engine and put the car in gear. Before we began moving, though, he turned to me once more. “In all seriousness, Lex...you look amazing.”
It was a simple compliment, but it was sincere. And it instantly brought a smile to my face. “Thank you,” I said, trying desperately not to sound too enthusiastic.
Jase Holloway, in all seriousness, thought I looked amazing. Why, oh why did that suddenly make me feel like the happiest girl in the world?
Chapter Twenty-One
“I can't pronounce anything on this menu,” I whispered over to Jase, who was sitting across the table from me. “I'm not even sure what language it's in, or if it's even in an actual language.”
Jase smirked at me. “It's French. How could you not know that?”
“Why would I know that?” I grumbled. “I take Spanish.”
“There is escargot on the menu. If you can honestly say you didn't know that escargot was a French word, then I can honestly say you've been living under a rock your entire life.”
“Is this how good boyfriends are supposed to act, picking on their girlfriends because they can't pronounce words in French?”
“Of course not. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't pick on you. That was wrong of me.” He didn't sound sorry at all.
I glanced back down at the menu. “I mean, there are so many letters to each word, and I know about half of them don't even get pronounced. How am I supposed to know which ones to leave out?”
Jase snorted and I realized it was because our waiter, Pierre, had returned to our table, and was currently standing behind me.
“If you need help reading the menu,” he said in a strong French accent, “I would be more than happy to assist you.”
Jase grinned up at him, then over at me. “That won’t be necessary, thanks. I took two years of French. I can help her out.”
“Very well then,” Pierre said. “Can I get either of you anything to drink?”
“We'll each take a Coke, please,” Jase said. He glanced over at me, giving me the opportunity to speak up if that wasn't what I wanted to drink. But it was, so I said nothing, just smiled as Pierre went to retrieve our drinks.
“So why did you choose this place as our dining destination for the evening?” I asked him. “Le Jardin Béni has got to be the most expensive restaurant within fifty miles of us.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No, of course not. I just don't think you should be blowing your money on this fake date of ours. I'm not the one you need to impress.”
“You are worth every penny I spend tonight,” he assured me. I couldn't tell if he was being serious, or if it was all just part of his Perfect Boyfriend act.
“I just don't want you giving me unrealistic expectations of how much a guy should spend on me for one date. Especially a first date.”
Jase chuckled. “I'm not too worried about that. You're pretty levelheaded. I'm just trying to teach you that it's acceptable to allow a guy to, once in a while, treat you like you're the most important person in the world to him.”
That almost made me laugh. “But when a guy treats a girl like she's the most important person in the world to him, he's only doing it to get into her pants.” I paused and narrowed my eyes at him. “Jase, are you trying to get in my pants?”
“You're wearing a dress,” he pointed out. “And we'll wait and see how the date goes first before we talk about getting into each other's pants.” He then winked at me and grinned.
My heart did this weird fluttering thing inside my chest as Pierre appeared out of nowhere with our drinks, setting them onto the table in front of us.
“Are you ready to order?” he asked.
Jase glanced over at me questioningly. I stared down at the menu but had a hard time reading the words printed on it. And not just because they were all in French, but also because I couldn't concentrate. For some reason, Jase talking about us getting into each other's pants had completely derailed my train of thought.
“Um, yeah. I'll have the salade maison.” I gave the pronunciation my best shot, but I couldn't help but notice Jase looking at me funny after I'd ordered.
He gave Pierre his order as well and passed him our menus. When he was gone, Jase gave me yet another strange look.
“What?” I asked, rather annoyed. “I know my pronunciation sucked, okay? You don't have to give me a hard time about it.”
“Actually, you pronounced it just fine. I was more concerned about what you ordered, rather than how you ordered it.”
I gulped. “I thought I was ordering a salad.”
“You were.”
“What, then? Is the dressing made out of escargot intestines or something?”
Jase laughed and shook his head. “No, you just ordered a normal salad. But you ordered just a salad. What's wro
ng with you? Are you not feeling well? Or did you just want to order the cheapest thing on the menu?”
“Oh.” I breathed a sigh of relief. For a second there, I was seriously worried I had ordered something that would turn out to be repulsive. “I'm trying to eat healthier, that's all. I've got to maintain my girlish figure so I can attract the attention of all the boys after you and I break up.” I batted my eyelashes and gave him a sickly sweet grin.
“You could eat everything off the menu in one sitting and not gain a pound. Admit it, you didn't want me spending a lot of money on you.”
“That's not true.”
“It is true, Turner.”
“So what if it is? What's wrong with a girl not wanting a guy to waste all of his hard earned money on her?”
“Nothing is wrong with that. In fact, what you just said would probably make some guys want to marry you. It just concerns me, that's all.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why does that concern you?”
He hesitated for a moment before responding. “Look, I've known you since...well, I've known you almost your whole life. And even though we haven't exactly spent any time together or talked to each other during the last few years or so, I've kept tabs on you the entire time. I've seen what dating Jeffrey has done to you, and it kills me. He didn't appreciate you to the extent he should have, and because of that I think you've developed some sort of belief that you don't deserve to be treated the way a guy should treat you.”
I stared at him in awe. “Jase, I ordered a salad because a salad sounded good, not because I didn't feel worthy of ordering something more expensive. Besides, it was just about the easiest thing on the menu to pronounce.”
Looking somewhat sheepish, Jase said, “Sorry. I'm just so used to you eating. You are aware that the salad you ordered contains nothing in it that's fried, right?”
“I am well aware, thank you very much.” But that was a lie. I hadn't actually known what would be in the salad, but I had been hoping for fried chicken at least.
“So,” I said with a sigh. I folded my hands in my lap and glanced around the room. “Is this the part of the date where we are supposed to socialize and realize we have absolutely nothing in common?”
“Normally, yes. But since you and I already know each other, and we already know we have at least a few things in common with one another, I'm sure we can find something else to talk about.”
“Like what?” I thought about it for a moment. What could I talk to Jase about? Pretty much the only thing we'd been discussing the past couple weeks was our fake relationship. The last real conversation he and I had together that consisted of no mention of either Kylie or Jeffrey, was right before he entered high school. I couldn't remember what the conversation was about, I just remember it as being somewhat heated.
Jase shrugged. “Like anything.”
“Really?” I chewed on my lower lip. The thought of my last conversation with Jase had sparked something in me: curiosity. The fact that he and I, as close as we once were, drifted apart to the point of not even acknowledging each other in the hallways at school, had always been a mystery. No one ever talked about it. No one ever questioned it.
Until now.
“What happened between us, Jase?”
He'd been in the process of taking a sip of his Coke when I asked and his hand froze mid-air as he glanced over at me in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what happened between us? Why did we ever stop being friends?” I never realized how much I wanted to know the answer to that question until I had asked it.
Clearing his throat, he set his glass back down onto the table. “Um...I don't know. I think we just grew up, that's all.”
“Since when is 'growing up' an excuse for two people to drift apart? Trish and I both grew up, but we're still best friends. So why did growing up ruin our friendship?” I motioned a hand between the two of us.
Jase was starting to look uncomfortable, as though he felt he was under interrogation. He hesitated for a moment, staring down at the silverware on the table before saying, “I entered high school a year before you and Trish. It was considered uncool to hang out with middle school kids, so I began to distance myself.”
“Okay, first of all, you never even used to care about what was considered cool or uncool. Second of all, you started distancing yourself before you entered high school.”
He sighed. “I'm just telling it like I remember it. If you remember so much about it yourself, then why are you asking me?”
His voice was snippy, and it irritated me. “I remember you ditching me and Trish. I don't remember why, because I don't believe we ever got an explanation.”
I was starting to sound defensive, and I could tell he was picking up on it because he was looking even more uncomfortable than before.
“The truth is, there is no explanation.” He slouched back in his chair. “Besides, you guys had Jeffrey as my replacement. You didn't need me anymore.”
My jaw dropped open at his statement. “What are you talking about? Jeffrey was never your replacement. I think we might have been hoping he would be, which is why we adopted him as a friend so quickly, but he wasn't. You are irreplaceable, Jase.”
“Aw, don't make me blush,” he said, rather dryly. “Time for a new topic?”
I was confused by his sudden moodiness, but decided just to let it slide. “Sure. How about the topic of why you hate Jeffrey so much?”
Jase groaned. “That's just a spin-off of the last topic, Turner. Think of something else. Something that doesn't involve your ex.”
“What? Why?” Now I was getting moody. “You've never explained your dislike for him, but don't you think I have a right to know?”
“As his girlfriend, you did. As his ex-girlfriend, you don't. So drop it.”
“Why is this such a sensitive subject for you?” I pressed. “Why can't you just—”
“Lex, seriously.” He sounded stern as he spoke, but the expression on his face was soft as he reached across the table and took my hand in his. “There are over a billion other topics we could discuss, that have nothing to do with Jeffrey or our childhood. Please, pick one.”
I glanced down at our intertwined hands and found myself smiling. Jeffrey and I rarely ever held hands, much to my constant disappointment. I absolutely love hand-holding, it's just so romantic.
“Um,” I said, racking my brain to come up with another topic. But I found that my mind was suddenly clouded and unable to think. I just kept staring at Jase's hand in mine.
“Um, what?” Jase was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
I cleared my throat and removed my hand from his grasp. I then grabbed my glass of Coke and took a sip. “Why don't you think of a topic to discuss? Why does it have to be me?”
“Because I want to talk about what you want to talk about.”
“Is that what good boyfriends are supposed to say?”
He winked at me. “Absolutely.”
“Is that what you always say to your dates?”
“Absolutely.”
“And that helps you get into their pants?”
Jase's grin faltered and I found myself wishing I hadn't said that.
“I don't sleep with every girl I date, you know,” he said defensively.
“Oh, I know,” I was quick to say as I mentally kicked myself. “I didn't mean to insinuate that.”
“In fact, I'm sure you'd be shocked to know just how many girls I've dated that I haven't slept with.”
He was bordering on the edge of too much information, so I held up my hands in front of me and said, “It's none of my business, Jase.”
He slouched back in his chair again and drummed his fingers on the tabletop with what I could only guess was annoyance. “I don't just date girls because I want to have sex with them, Turner.”
“I know that,” I assured him. “I wasn't accusing you of that. I was just joking around. I'm sorry.”
He stared at
me for a long moment, looking at me as though he were trying to determine whether or not I was being honest. I was, of course. I'd never thought of Jase as being a man whore. Actually, I'd never given any thought to his sex life whatsoever. Perhaps in the back of my mind I'd always just assumed he'd slept with every girl he dated, but I'd never judged him for it. He was, after all, a teenage boy.
“Don't worry about it,” he said finally.
Fortunately for me, Pierre chose this moment to deliver our food. And when our plates were set down in front of us, Jase and I exchanged a glance. The portions were much smaller than what I expected for the price and my salad, indeed, contained nothing fried. Just vegetables and a few croutons. I wanted to cry.
Jase smirked at me after Pierre was gone. “You look like someone just ran over your dog.”
Was I really that obvious? “I have no idea what you're talking about. Mmm, this salad looks lovely, doesn't it?”
He studied it for a moment, his head cocked to one side. “It looks way too healthy for your tastes. And not to mention, the portion is too small for someone with your appetite.”
The salad was actually very good, but I was still hungry when it was all gone. We were both done eating about five minutes later, and I was just about to signal Pierre to give us our check when Jase surprised me by asking, “Would you care to dance?”
My breath hitched in my throat. “Dance? Here?”
“Yeah, they have a dance floor over there.” With his head, he motioned over across the room where a few couples were slow dancing.
“No.” I shook my head rather adamantly. “I hate dancing.”
“No, you don't.” He stood up and held out his hand for me to take. Tilting his head to one side, he gave me hopeful puppy dog eyes “Please? For me?”
I made a face to show him that while I was going to cave into his pathetic attempt at persuasion, I wasn't going to be happy about it.
“Okay, fine,” I grumbled. I took his hand and stood from my chair and let him lead me over to the dance floor. “You know, a good boyfriend wouldn't make his date do anything she doesn't want to do.”
“Oh, I definitely agree,” he said, furrowing his brow all serious-like. “And please keep that in mind when your 'good boyfriend' is trying to get fresh with you. But I don't know how that bit of information is relevant to our current situation, seeing as though deep down you want this.”