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I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. The same corner of her mouth I first touched with my lips the night of our first whole day spent together.
I watch her for a little while, letting my mind settle into the fact that we made a move we can’t go back from tonight—a move I don’t want to go back from—and then finally, fall into a peaceful sleep.HolleyI almost didn’t show up today, to Jake’s fifth and final date. I almost packed a bag and headed for the Mexican border. It wouldn’t take me long—under an hour even in heavy traffic.
I could get drunk in Tijuana and get abducted by a cartel or thrown in a Mexican prison, and honestly, any of those options sound better than dealing with facing Jake after last night…and this morning.
I’m not exactly proud of myself, but I am what I am. And even if I don’t know how to do anything else, boy do I know how to panic.
In the end, however, even after I let my flight response take me to crazy heights this morning, I decided to show up for myself—for work—but to do it while avoiding my issues with expert dedication.
Every time the front door opens, slicing a ray of sunlight into the dark ambiance of the bowling alley, I jump, so when he finally does walk in, I’ve already given myself a case of the hiccups from all the sudden movements.
It’s okay, though. Jake scans the alley, a scowl in place, and the fear his intensity awakens in me scares those fuckers right out of me.
He walks toward me intently, and I back slowly into the wall behind the table I’ve placed between us as a protective barrier. It doesn’t stop him. Frankly, it doesn’t even slow him down.
Because in what seems like the breath between one moment and the next, he’s there, looking me in the eyes. His are turbulent—almost alarmingly so as he tosses his discarded sunglasses onto the top of the table and puts his hands to his hips.
“We need to talk about what happened last night.”
“No.” I shake my head manically. “We don’t. The last thing we need to do is give a voice to it.”
“Why?”
“Why? Are you serious? How many reasons do you need?”
“At least two,” he challenges, and I narrow my eyes.
“I’m an employee of the paper, and my behavior was completely unprofessional. Not to mention, you’re about to go on a date with another woman,” I hiss. “I hardly think this is the time to rehash…everything.”
“I disagree,” he counters with a sharp edge to his voice. “We need to talk about it. Now. Before my date. You left your own house while I was asleep so you wouldn’t have to face me, Holley,” he whispers, his words laced with accusation. “We need to talk.”
I toss up both hands and start to walk away, but he reaches out and grabs my arm, turning me to face him. He holds me there, and I do my best to turn my flight instinct into fight. It’s the only option I have if he’s going to hold me in place. “Why do you want to talk about this, Jake? So it can be super awkward? This is not a good idea. That’s why I left this morning in the first place.”
It’s why I didn’t answer any of the many calls or texts he placed to me, and it’s why I found somewhere to hide out—somewhere there was no possibility of him finding me—until now. Luckily, my dad is out of town on a fishing trip or I wouldn’t have been able to hide at his house. He would have given me shit, too.
“What’s not a good idea?” he asks, searching my face for answers I don’t have. “Talking about it or what happened?”
“Both!” I snap.
His eyebrows smash together as he scowls, and I have to look away. I can’t stand to see him looking at me like that, and that, too, is the problem.
“I’m way too…close,” I say to the floor. “I never should have gotten this invested with you. This involved in your life. I’m just mucking things up.”
“You really think that?” He forces my chin up with gentle fingers, and I have to look him in the eye.
“You really don’t?”
He considers me for a moment before reaching out to try to grab my hand. I pull it back. I’m way too embarrassed by the mess I’ve made for myself. If my editor knew what I’d done, I’d be fired. If the women he’s been dating knew…they’d start a shitstorm that would make the T-Swift vs. Kim-ye feud look as intimidating as Mr. Rogers’ cardigan sweaters.
Trust me, I should know. I’ve been involved in one before. I was just on the other end of it.
