by Abby Jimenez
I liked that he was willing to wander the place with me.
He twined his fingers in mine on top of the blanket, and I put my head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I could feel him looking down on me long after he finished. I smiled to myself.
Being with Jason in the house I’d shared with Brandon didn’t feel strange. I’d lived here alone four times longer than Brandon had ever lived here with me. But I think the biggest part of it was that even when all his stuff had still been here, this place didn’t feel like Brandon’s. It didn’t even feel like mine.
I’d realized something in the past two days. This house was a mausoleum. And not for the man I lost—for myself.
Once I took out everything that belonged to Brandon, all that was left behind was remnants of me—and it wasn’t the me of now, it was the me of back then. The happy me who’d hung shadow boxes and cooked in the kitchen. The one who painted actual, dignified works of art that I was proud enough to hang on walls. These little mementos were all around me, small reminders of a woman I hadn’t seen since Brandon took off on his motorcycle that morning and never came home. And the thing was I wanted to be that whole again. I missed myself.
I missed being happy.
Tonight was the first time I’d cooked anything that actually required effort in more than two years—and it made me wonder why I hadn’t done it sooner. I loved cooking for people. And I loved seeing Jason enjoying something I could do as much as I enjoyed what he put into the universe.
Kristen was right. I’d chosen this life. And I’d had enough. I was going to make a concerted effort to get out of this in-between I was trapped in. I was going to actively pursue joy. I’d cook. I’d maybe start updating my blog again. I had too many paying commissions to be able to dedicate time to painting any of my own stuff, but maybe eventually I’d even get back to that too. And I was going to start now. Not for Jason. Not because he was here to reap the benefits. For myself. I should have done it a long time ago.
When the credits came on, I stretched and Jason sat up and hit the Power button.
“I need to ask you something,” he said, turning to me.
“If you ask me one more time if I’ve lost that loving feeling—”
He laughed. “Not that.” Then his face went a touch serious. “I’m not seeing anybody else. It occurred to me that maybe you might be dating. I just wanted to make it clear to you that I’m only dating you.”
“Is that a question?” I asked, buying time while I processed what I’d heard.
Even though he hadn’t said it before this, I knew innately that he was seeing only me. I just knew. But I guess it was good we were talking about it.
He smiled a little. “Are you seeing anyone else?”
I snorted. “No, of course not.” The idea was almost laughable. Me? Dating? Besides, I liked him way too much to look at other options. But Jason looked…relieved, maybe?
“I would like it if you and I only dated each other,” he said, looking at me intently.
I shrugged. “Okay.”
“You agree?”
“Yes. I won’t see anyone else. Just you.”
He gazed at me for a moment, something soft playing around the edges of his smile. Then he leaned over and kissed me. It was a gentle, closed-mouthed kiss, and when it was over, he stroked my cheek with his thumb, looking in my eyes. My heart fluttered. Then my cell phone vibrated in my lap and we both looked down, reading the text at the same time.
Kristen: Tomorrow. Get here by 5:00. I want help with the sides. BRING HIM.
I groaned.
“What?” Jason asked.
“Kristen is conspiring to meet you. It’s her birthday tomorrow, and Josh is grilling steaks. She wants me to bring you.”
“Sure,” he said.
I shook my head. “No. It’ll be awful. They’ll make you so uncomfortable. They’re shameless. No.”
“So you’re just going to hide me from your best friend? Forever?”
“Yes. That’s the plan. You don’t understand, I can’t even let her know you’re over here right now. She’ll show up just to show you pictures of me at my eighth-grade dance.”
He laughed. “What time should I pick you up?”
“You really want to do this? It may test our relationship.”
“So you admit it’s a relationship,” he said, smiling at me.
I narrowed my eyes at him, suspecting a trap. “Well, what would you call it?”
“That’s exactly what I’d call it. But you have a tendency to rob me of the titles I’m due.”
“Like what?”
“Like calling our first date an appointment.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. We’re in…a relationship,” I said, forcing out the last word. It was way early for that, but it kind of was one, I guess. He wasn’t wrong.
“A monogamous relationship,” he added.
“Yes, we’re not dating anyone else, so I suppose that’s also true.”
“So that makes you my girlfriend.”
I choked. “Jason!”
“What? What else would you call it?” He looked completely amused at how flustered I was.
“I don’t know? We’re seeing each other, exclusively. That’s how I’d say it.”
“And that would make me your boyfriend,” he said, his eyes dancing.
He was right. And I was terrified.
“We’ve only known each other for two weeks,” I said. “This is only our third date.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care.”
I bit my lip. “Jason, I take that status really seriously.”
“I hope so, because so do I. Look, I don’t care what the rule books say we should be doing right now. I like you. You like me. We agree that we’re exclusively seeing each other. And I want you to be able to tell random a cappella groups that hit on you that you have a boyfriend.”
Then he leaned in and kissed me. “And your boyfriend should definitely know your best friend.”
Chapter 17
Jason
♪ I Feel It | Avid Dancer
I could have written a love song about that chicken Sloan made for dinner. Hell, maybe I should write a love song about that chicken Sloan made for dinner. It would be better than the shit my label sent over, even in my current state of writer’s block.
When it came time for me to go home, I wanted to stay again. I even considered asking this time if I could spend the night on the couch, but I figured if she wanted me there, she wouldn’t be kicking me out, so I sucked it up and left. Stepping out onto the porch that evening, kissing her good night, and driving off in my truck felt as counterintuitive to me as anything I’d ever done, like leaving my guitar behind on a sidewalk.
No guy in his right mind ever did anything to fuck up a chance like this.
I was getting this shot with her on a technicality. I’d slipped in under some wire. She’d been isolated and grieving so no other man had gotten to her. I knew how lucky I was. And every moment I spent with her, I was more and more aware of it.
I wanted to do things for her. Bring her gifts that made her smile, hold her doors open. Take out the damn trash in her kitchen, watch her paint. I wanted to be useful to her and see what she looked like before she went to bed and watch her laugh at something on TV.
I definitely didn’t want to go home without her, that was for damn sure.
When I got back to my trailer, it felt hollow and cold. I sighed and tossed my keys on the kitchen counter, taking off my jacket. I looked around and felt no attachment to any of it. It was my place, filled with my things, but it didn’t feel like home. Oddly enough, Sloan’s place did, and I had a feeling it had more to do with the company than the house.
Tucker, the Panty Bandit, jumped on the bed, and I let him. No crate for him tonight. We were in this together. Why make him any more miserable than he had to be, stuck here, with me instead of with Sloan, sniffing around my laundry basket instead of hers?
I showered and was rubbing my hair with a towel when I heard tapping. Tucker hopped off the bed and ran for the door, scratching and whining. I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight, a little late for Ernie to be wandering the yard.
I jumped into some sweatpants and opened the door to Sloan standing outside, rubbing her arms in the cold. Tucker spilled out of the trailer and circled her happily, jumping on her.
“Um…maybe I should have called first?” she said, patting Tucker’s head and eyeing my bare chest. She bit her lip uncertainly and I broke into a grin.
“Get in here.”
She climbed the step and I pulled her to me.
“I…I just missed you,” she said, looking up at me shyly after I’d given her a proper kiss hello.
“You shouldn’t have let me leave,” I said. “I would have slept in the living room.”
“You would?”
“Oh yeah.”
I leaned down and kissed her again, standing there by the open door of the trailer. The kiss was a grateful one. She’d delivered herself to me like a gift.
“You’re staying the night, right?” I asked, beaming at her.
I wasn’t suggesting anything other than sleeping. If she didn’t usually kiss on the first date, we weren’t having sex on the third one, no matter how charming I might be. And I would never push her into it.
“Only if it’s just sleeping,” she said, eyeing me warily.
“Of course.”
“Will you put a shirt on?” She glanced at my chest.
I chuckled. “Yes.”
“And you promise to behave?”
“Absolutely.”
She smiled, looking relieved, and nodded. I would have agreed to any demand she made if it meant she’d stay. I would have slept on a floaty in the pool if that was what it would take.
I tore myself from her. “You want some water?”
“Sure.”
While I filled her glass, she wandered to the fridge and took down the tour itinerary I’d stuck there. “Is this your tour schedule?”
“Yeah.” This one was for my US dates. I hadn’t told her about the extra two months or the UK portion yet. Hitting her with, “By the way, I’m going to be gone for fourteen months” felt a little heavy for the first day of our official relationship.
She followed me into my room and sat on the edge of my bed and studied the printout while I dug in my drawer for a shirt. “Wow. Do you even get a day off?” She looked up at me. “These concert dates are so close together.”
Tucker pushed his face under her arm and she hugged him, watching me pull the tee over my head. She really watched me. Her eyes were nowhere near my face. I smiled. She was biting her lip and one of those blushes I loved was creeping up her neck.
I looked at her too. She wore a white tank top and some pink shorts. Her hair was in a messy braid. She looked like she’d been ready for bed before she came over. The tank top was low cut. Damn. I’d probably have to sleep with a pillow between us so I didn’t press anything unwanted against her. It was definitely gonna be a problem.
“Tours are hard work,” I said, taking the packet from her and dropping it onto the top of Tucker’s crate. I got under the covers and held up her side so she could join me. She scooted in and put her head on my chest. I reached over, turning off the lights, then hugged her closer.
It wasn’t close enough.
I put my nose to her hair and breathed in, and she slid a leg up over my thigh and snuggled in to me. I wondered if she could hear my heart pounding. She had to.
I cleared my throat. “‘You never close your eyes anymore—’”
She hit me and I laughed, kissing the top of her head.
Tucker settled at the end of the bed and I shut my eyes, feeling a sense of calm, like everything I needed was in one place at the same time.
Chapter 18
Sloan
♪ The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald | Jaxon Waters
Jason picked me up right at 4:45 to drive us to Kristen’s to attend her trial by fire. I was hoping he’d get stuck doing some Jaxon Waters thing and have to cancel, but no luck. I argued we should take separate cars so he could escape if he needed to, but he wouldn’t hear of it.
My eyelid was in a full-scale panic attack. The finger wasn’t enough to hold it in place. I needed my whole palm.
Jason looked over at me from behind the wheel of his truck and laughed. “Come on, she cannot be that bad.”
“Jason, there’s probably a clone of her guarding the gates of hell.”
The creasing at the corners of his eyes made me smile despite myself.
“I just never know what she’s going to do. She’s always scheming. And the baby’s at his grandmother’s house tonight, so who knows what she’s got planned.”
“Schemes, huh?” He chuckled.
“Yes, she loves messing with me. I can’t explain her, Jason. She’s too weird.”
When we knocked on the door to Kristen’s tan stucco house, I gave Jason one more I’m-so-sorry glance, and he winked at me.
Kristen threw the door open, grinning right past me at Jason like a lunatic. “You must be Jason!” She bumped into me theatrically and dove right in for a hug with my date.
I shook my head at her over his shoulder, and she gave me crazy eyes.
When he was released from her clutches, Jason handed her the flowers he’d brought, and she gushed, ushering us inside, where Josh waited like an accomplice, holding two beers.
Stuntman Mike bounced off Jason’s shins, and he crouched and petted him.
Kristen leaned over and whispered in my ear. “He does smell like flannel.”
“You promised me you’d behave,” I hissed.
“What? What did I do?” she said, blinking at me with feigned innocence.
Jason stood and took the beer he was offered, shaking Josh’s hand, introducing himself. Jason didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable. Maybe he was used to overzealous, grabby, slightly inappropriate fans?
“Hey,” Kristen whispered, nudging me in the ribs. “I told Josh to ask him if he can spell ‘chlamydia.’ If he can, he’s gonna throw him out.”
I blanched and she practically skipped across the room and hooked her arm in Jason’s. “Let me give you the tour.”
“I’m coming on the tour,” I announced.
“Nope. It’s a one-person tour. We’re all booked up.” She slapped the flowers to my chest. “Put these in water, will you? And, Josh, can you show Sloan to the kitchen, where there’s a potato salad that needs putting together? Thanks.”
Jason looked thoroughly amused at my distress and allowed himself to be led away.
Huffing, I turned to Josh, who was smiling after his insane wife.
“You know there’s no stopping her when she gets an idea,” he said.
“And what idea are we talking about, Josh?”
He took a swig of his beer. “I’m not telling you shit. I have to live with her.”
I stomped to the kitchen to make the damn potato salad. Ten minutes later, as I was moodily squeezing mayo into a bowl and chopping celery, Jason and Kristen reappeared, laughing and chatting like old friends.
Jason sat on one of the leather barstools, sliding his half-empty beer on the counter. I glared at Kristen, then gave Jason a long look, trying to figure out if we were still dating or if he’d decided against it after spending a few minutes alone with my best friend.
“Kristen was just telling me about the time you won Miss Canoga Park,” Jason said. “I didn’t know you’d done beauty pageants. Why didn’t you ever mention it?”
I stopped chopping and looked back and forth between them in disbelief. “This is what was on the tour? The scrapbooks didn’t come out? No sleepover photos of me in headgear?”
Jason’s eyes smiled as he lifted his beer to his lips.
Kristen scoffed dramatically. “Now why would I spoil those?” she said, cocking her head. “I’m saving them for the calendars I’m ha
nding out at Christmas.”
Jason laughed so unexpectedly he had to put a hand under his chin to wipe up beer. I slid my eyes back to Kristen and narrowed them.
“What?” she said. “I showed him the pictures of us at Coachella three years ago.”
I stared at her. Seriously? The Coachella pictures? I was wearing a white macramé bikini with cutoff denim shorts and had flowers in my hair and I looked amazing.
Well, I’ll be damned. She was wingmanning me. Unbelievable.
“I played Coachella last year,” Jason said, still chuckling a little. “I wish you would have gone. I would have seen you from the stage. We could have met sooner.”
I snorted, scooping celery into the bowl. “There are like two hundred thousand people at Coachella. You wouldn’t have noticed me.”
He looked me in the eye. “I would notice you in a crowd of a million.”
He held my gaze and I could feel the weight of Kristen’s stare as she watched the two of us look at each other.
The sliding glass door opened and Josh popped his head inside. “Hey, Jason, want to help me with the grill?”
“Sure,” Jason said, flashing me a smile that said he remembered my prophecy of a grill-side interrogation, and he dutifully followed Josh outside.
“Have fun,” I said after him before he slid the door closed. He gave me a confident two-fingered salute and disappeared into the yard.
Kristen looked at me and mouthed, “Oh my God.”
“I know, right?”
“He is like seriously into you. I think he’s in love with you. I’m not even kidding. It’s all over his face. He’s whipped.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Have you had sex with him yet? Was it amazing? Tell me everything.”
I shook my head. “No, we haven’t had sex. But I slept at his place last night.”