by Becca Taylor
“Thanks,” she says.
Shit, fuck, shit.
I close the door, using the walk to the driver’s side to clear the thoughts forming. Ones that go something like grabbing her hand and pinning her to my truck then fucking her so hard those green eyes would glaze over. But this is Jade; I’ve known her for over two years now. She’s a nice girl, and I’m not ready for a nice girl. Not only that, but she looks like the type who deserves to settle down.
I literally shake my head before I climb in the truck. I turn the ignition and focus on driving.
Two blocks left. Do not check her out while she's looking out the window. Goddammit, do not look at her legs in those shorts and her feet in those flip-flops. And for fuck’s sake, remind her to wear jeans to the site and boots. But fucking hell, concentrating on not looking only makes me want to do it more. I glance at both her legs and her feet right as she looks at me. One more block.
“What's this music?” she asks.
I’m not even paying attention to what I have playing. It at least gives me a distraction from my inappropriate thoughts.
“You’ve never heard Bloodhound Gang?”
“No. Are they talking about what I think they are?” Her face looks shocked.
Yeah. She's definitely not the 'fall into someone's bed' type of girl.
“You mean the sex?” I chuckle.
She punches my arm. Which doesn't hurt, by the way, but it does make me want to make her touch me again. Hurry the fuck up, traffic. I need to get out of the truck.
“Oh, my God. I thought you liked hard rock. Like what Slither plays.”
“I do. It is okay for me to like music we don't play; the band won’t kick me out for it. Besides, life would be boring without variety.”
She makes a hmph sound as I pull into the parking lot.
“A diner?” she asks.
“Jade ... first, you don't like my music, and now you don't like my food choice? I’m beginning to think this friendship isn’t going anywhere.”
“Breakfast for dinner is my favorite,” she says as she practically skips to the entrance. Which does not help because I get to watch the way her ample tits and ass bounce.
I open the double door to let her in first. “Mine too.”
We sit at a booth. It’s pretty quiet for this time of night, but then again, it’s Florida; most people who come here take advantage of the early-bird special.
The waitress comes over with a pot of coffee. I gladly accept a cup, but Jade declines.
“Can I have a chocolate shake instead? With two cherries?”
“Sure, honey. Do you two know what you want or do you need a few more minutes?”
I always know what I want, but I take my cue from Jade.
She’s quick to answer. “I’ll have the chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon on the side. Can I get extra whipped cream?”
I raise my eyebrow at her, doubting she will be able to eat all that. Then I wonder where she puts it all because her body is phenomenal. She’s tall compared to most girls I know, and from what I can see, her waist is small, but there are definitely womanly curves to her figure. The kind you can grab while fucking the hell out of her.
I have got to stop thinking these kinds of things when I’m around her. I chalk it up to being sexually frustrated—really fucking frustrated since I still haven’t been with anyone since Dee.
“And what about you, sweetheart? Do you know what you want?” the waitress, Fran, asks as she’s eyeing me up. She either just read my thoughts, or she’s feisty for her age.
“Two slices of French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage.”
“I’ll be back in a jiffy with your shake. Anything else?”
“I think we’re good, Fran,” I tell her.
While we wait for our food to come to the table, I sync my calendar with Jade's, letting the business side of my brain take over instead of the south part of my body.
“I'm strict with my schedule, but if there are ever any changes to it, you'll see them marked. Also, I marked certain days with a note as to when you should probably stay away.”
She gives me a questioning look, and the way she scrunches her face looks cute. In fact, it’s downright adorable.
“What would be so bad that I need to stay away?”
“The day we are tearing the building down. I don't want you getting hit by any flying pieces of cement.”
“I want to be there for that.”
“Jade. It's not safe.”
“Just put me across the street. I have an amazing zoom lens. I trust you to keep me safe.”
This is not going as I planned, and her saying things like that is not helping. It's only making me more attracted to her when she says she trusts me. I’m not in the right headspace for a trusting relationship. A physical relationship is all I can handle, but we’re not talking about dating here. We’re talking about work. I need to squash this feeling in my gut and take control.
“Fine. But you will stay exactly where I tell you.” There. I laid out the law. I even used my pointer finger and tapped the table. Whenever my father did that, he meant business.
She salutes me back. “Yes, sir. You can draw a circle, and I won't move from that spot. Pinky swear,” Jade says as she holds out her pinky to me. “Come on, Jeremy. You have to do it. It's kind of like a high-five. Don't leave me hanging. Plus, a pinky swear is the second strongest promise to a blood oath. And blood makes me faint. So, please, don't make me go there.”
Looking at her, she's giving me the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. How can I resist that? I stick out my pinky to link it with hers. There's this moment when I feel something, and it goes straight to my gut, but then our food comes. When Jade pulls her hand from mine, it's gone.
I clear my throat, hoping that it will also help clear my head.
“Can I get you two anything else?” Fran asks as she hands us our plates then refills my coffee. We both answer with a no, but I’m eyeing Jade who just stuck her finger in the whipped cream and licked it. I debate on asking for a whole can of the stuff so I could watch her do that again and again. Motherfucker.
“What kind of meeting do you have tonight?” I ask her.
Jade stops midbite.
“You'll laugh at me. I'm only going to tell you if you promise not to laugh.”
“Do I have to pinky swear again?” I ask with a smile.
Jade kicks me under the table. “No, you jerk. Okay. I joined a dating site, and I'm supposed to chat with one of my matches.”
Instead of laughing like she thinks, her admission strikes a nerve. “Why would you need to do that? Only creeps sign up for that shit.”
She sighs. “This is why I didn't want to tell anyone. Not even Kat, Aly, Lexi, or Dani know.”
Pride fills me at the thought she confessed to me before her best friends. That stops fast when I go into protective mode. “Then I'm glad you told me. You need to let someone know when, where, and who you are going on a date with. Make sure it's a public place. And for God's sake, do not get into a stranger’s car.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Jade, I'm serious.”
“Fine. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to eat this whole plate of food because it's going to be my last hurrah before I start my diet.”
This time, it's my turn to stop mid fork lift. The woman doesn't have an ounce of fat on her. Curves yes, but nothing that would warrant her having to diet.
“Don't you dare go on a diet.” Jesus, I do sound like a parent reprimanding a child.
Jade, however, finds it amusing, and her laughter fills the diner.
“That's the same reaction I got from the girls,” she says while wiping the tears from her eyes.
“I just meant you don't need to diet. Your body is bangin’.”
“Hardly bangin’. But thanks.”
“I mean it.”
“New subject. No talk of dating, diets, or work since I'm officially off the cloc
k. There's one subject we can discuss, though—your music. Who's your favorite band?” she asks me.
This conversation is safe ground. It's a great way to tell if you are compatible with someone too. Then again, I don't need to be compatible with Jade. Friends, yes.
“Slither,” I answer back.
“I mean bands that have actually recorded discs.”
“We do. It was from back in high school, but it's legit. And pretty badass.”
“I need to hear this.”
I think back to where I hid the disc we made. It's most likely at my parent's house. The truth is, it's awful. We attempted to write our own music and quickly learned that we had no talent in that department.
“What music does Jade like?”
She averts her eyes from me and bites her lip while a pink color rises to her cheeks.
“Come on; you need to tell me. It's music, so I peg you as a pop girl. Bubblegum pop,” I joke but at the same time am very serious.
When the blush deepens on her neck and cheeks, I think I may be on to something.
“It's embarrassing,” she says
“Then why do you listen to it?”
“I only listen when I'm alone.”
“Spill it, Jade.”
“Okay. Fine.” She closes her eyes tightly as she blurts out her music choice. “Disco.”
Without meaning to, a deep laugh bubbles out of me.
“You can't be serious. Like bell bottoms, tube tops and platform shoes ... disco?”
“Hardy har and shut up. Don't laugh.”
I tuck my lips between my teeth to get my laughter under control. “Sorry. Explain.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “There's just something about it. When I hear a Donna Summer's song, it makes me want to crank up the stereo and dance.”
A smile forms on my mouth. I'm not sure if I'm going to burst into laughter again or if it's the thought of her letting loose and dancing that has it growing wide. The first takes over. I can't help it because this shit is too funny. It's disco.
Jade picks up her napkin and balls it up. The next thing I know, it's flying across the table and hits me in the chest. “You weren't supposed to laugh.”
Once I get myself under control, I continue the conversation. “I'm sorry. What else? Please tell me you listen to other music.”
“Of course, there is. You know I like the stuff your band plays. This is top secret—not pinky swear secret, though. I have these playlists I make for my moods. I can't say it's any music genre in particular.”
Another thing we have in common. Mine might be a little more rock oriented, but I get it.
“Why is that a secret?”
“Well, I guess it’s really not the fact that I have playlists because everyone has playlists. It’s my titles, and what I do with them.”
This conversation should be boring, but for some reason, I want to know. Jade is leaning in like she’s going to tell me she just invented something that will save the world, and she doesn’t want anyone to know. But no, she is talking about a music playlist. Then she whispers, “I have a men suck list, disco list, one-hit wonders list, workout list. I could go on and on. You get the point. Some I dance to, some I run to, and some I just plain listen to while taking a bath.”
I lean in really close while Jade leans in even closer to listen to me. “Jade. I hate to burst your bubble because you seem like you don’t want people to know your idea.”
“I don’t,” she says as she cups her hands around her face.
I’m trying to hide my laughter when I break the news to her. “Everyone does that.”
She falls back into her seat looking completely shocked. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone makes those kind of playlists, and they do the same thing.” To prove my point, I hand her my phone. She looks through my music for a good five minutes. The look on her face is like I just told her that her puppy didn’t make it. And I don’t like that I put it there. How did I make her feel bad over a stupid conversation? I’m going to have to tell the guys to take it easy on her at the site because this one is fragile.
“I’m sorry, Jade.”
When she hands my phone back to me, I wonder if she is going to say something. The look on her face is blank. Then she picks up her napkin, wipes the sides of her lips, and starts laughing. “I know that. I’m not an idiot, Jeremy. I had you there for a second.”
“You were playing me?”
“Yes.” Jade is laughing so hard she snorts.
“Why?” This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve had in forever.
“I know we don’t see each other often, but for the past few months, since Deanna, you’ve seemed so sad. This is the first time I’ve seen you smile in a long time. And, Jeremy, you should always smile. When you do, you get these dimples. Plus, your laugh is cute.”
“Cute, huh? You like my dimples too?” I smile at that.
“Very much. All ladies love them.”
She’s right. Not about the dimples and the cute comment, but the smiling. This is the first night I haven’t faked one. It’s the first night I’ve felt something for a woman again. This, right here, tells me I need to get back on the horse and start dating again. “What’s that dating site you’re using?”
This time, Jade picks up the napkin and flings it at me. “Don’t tease.”
“I’m being completely honest. I think it’s time for me to start dating again.”
Jade raises one eyebrow at me. “You do not need someone to help you get a date.”
“Apparently, I do. Dating is not the same when you’re almost thirty. Help me out here. Hook me up with your site, and I’ll help you find a man suited for you on yours.”
She thinks for a minute, and the entire time, I’m wondering where the heck I came up with this. I don’t need dating help. I just want to see what kind of creepy guys she finds online. More to the point, I want to weed out the guys who aren’t good enough for her.
“Okay. I’ll send you the info, and you can check it out.” She takes out her phone and messages me the link. There’s no way I’ll set up any dates from this place, but I can at least check it out to see if it’s legit.
After dinner, Jade wouldn’t let me come home with her to check out her “meeting.” She did email me the link to the site she is using, though. I don’t have the energy to look at it tonight, but I make a mental note to check it out tomorrow.
WHEN I GET home, I kick it into high gear. I’m running late for my date, or meet, or whatever you want to call it. I open my computer and pull up the dating site chat because I’m not crazy enough to give people my phone number after chatting with them once. I decided to give Linc a chance since he was the only guy who didn’t beg me for my number; he simply asked if I would want to chat again online at the same time.
My browser opens directly to Intuitions, and I have a bunch of notifications of messages, eighty-six to be exact, most of which I will ignore with a left swipe. I’m not that hard up to date someone, so I will definitely be picky. I see that Linc is already on, I click on our private chat box.
Me: So sorry I’m late. Work stuff kept me.
Linc: It’s fine. It’s not like I was sitting here waiting.
Me: That’s disappointing.
Linc: Well, I didn’t want to seem too desperate.
Me: You wouldn’t.
Linc: Okay then. I was waiting.
Me: I am really sorry. My meeting turned into breakfast for dinner, and it kept me late.
Linc: Breakfast for dinner?
Me: It was so good.
Linc: Hmmm, not crazy about that. I’m a traditional meat and potatoes guy.
Me: Do eggs and hash browns fit into that category?
Linc: Well, if I happen to get so lucky as to take you out one night, I’d give it a try. But I’d much rather take you downtown to the Caribbean place.
Me: I love that place.
Linc: Does that mean you’d go?
Me: S
ometime, yes. But first, I think we should talk on the phone.
Linc: My number is ready whenever you are.
Me: I’ll let you know by the end of this chat.
Linc and I messaged for almost an hour. He’s exactly my type: works as a general manager at a local hotel by the beach, loves bike riding, enjoys old black and white movies, and drives a safe, dependable vehicle. When he told me that, I chuckled. The reason he joined the dating site is because his job hours are scattered. Yes, he works the regular nine to five, but he can be called away at any time of the day or night if there’s an emergency. He said it doesn’t always allow him to go out on weekends to search for someone. I get that.
He seems like a nice guy, so I give him my number, and we are going to talk tomorrow then see what happens from there. The whole online dating process is nerve-racking, and maybe it’s a good thing that I told someone about what I’m doing. Jeremy can be my wingman. Only, he won’t be helping me get a date; he can be my go-to if I need rescuing. “My saveman.” I laugh as I curl into bed for the night.
The next morning as I’m getting ready for work, my phone pings.
Jeremy: How did your meeting go?
Me: Fine.
Jeremy: Fine as in good or fine as in it was really terrible and I’m only saying fine so people don’t ask me questions.
Me: As in I think I may accept his offer for a date.
Jeremy: Well, I checked out the site last night, and Jade, the fee to join this thing is crazy.
Me: I know, but it has a ninety percent guarantee.
Jeremy: Well, you are bound to find a match if you are on it long enough. I mean, in the first five minutes, I had three hundred matches.
I reread the message a second time. He can’t be serious with that number. I mean, so what if he has that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on? And who cares that his muscles bulge everywhere? Sure, he has that whole scruffy thing going on that ladies like. Then, there’s the guitar playing—women will see him and think rock star. But three hundred matches? That’s just insane. Then I realize another thing, and I decide to call him instead of texting back.
“First, that number must be way off. Because that’s just crazy. Second, if you got matches, that means you signed up. Third, are you sure you got that many hits on your profile?” I ask him.