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"Thank you," she said. "Honestly, I'd be lost without you, Eric. Everyone's been great, but you've ... you've really gone above and beyond. I wish I had a medal or a cookie to give you."
Geez.
"I'm serious."
"Jean. Really, I'm happy I'm here to help," I said, bumbling along, searching for words. "You two, you mean a lot to me. Sorry I disappeared on you when I went to California. That was shitty of me when I'd said I'd be here for you."
"You're forgiven." God, her smile and the soft sweet look in her eyes. Bury me six feet deep, I was officially dead.
"You're not like I thought you'd be," she said, voice low. "That day we met, you seemed..."
"What?"
"Well, you're nothing like Nell said."
I turned away. "Shit. Shoot, I mean. Really, Jean, don't get carried away trying to make me into a good guy. I've gone out with a lot of women. Just, you know, having fun. Good time, not a long time, and all that."
"And here I thought you were a virgin like me."
"Smart ass," I muttered. "What I'm trying to say is, with you in the situation you are, a guy like that would be useless to you. You need someone dependable."
She said nothing.
"You deserve the best."
"Eric, having a baby doesn't mean I'm helpless or that I belong on a pedestal."
"I know."
Pink tinged Jean's cheeks. What emotion it was, I didn't know. Suddenly she stood, taking the bowl of salad and putting it back into its container before placing it in the fridge.
"Not hungry?" I asked carefully.
"I'll eat it later." She turned, putting her hands on the kitchen counter at her back.
Neither of us said anything for a minute.
"So, seen Andre lately?" I asked. Just making conversation. Not digging for information at all.
"Um, no. I think he's busy with a new girlfriend." No trace of a frown on her face or anything. Guess he'd been right about them only hanging out and being neighborly.
"Good," I said. "For him, I mean."
"Yes." She rolled her shoulders, stretched her neck. "He's a nice guy."
"He's okay."
She frowned. "I thought you two were friends."
"We are. Sure, I just..." I scratched at my head. "Yeah, no, we're friends."
"All righty," she said, gaze confused. "At any rate, I've been thinking. I'd like to make you dinner next time you've got a night off. What do you say?"
Normally I'd run a mile from such an offer. Science (sort of) showed that meeting a woman in a public setting then relocating somewhere private only for the sex portion of the evening was safest. It cut down on opportunities for drama. Excessive attachment and shit like that. If sporting teams were stronger on their home territory, then surely the same applied to women. Only I'd already been in Jean's apartment plenty of times. Hell, I'd even rolled around on her living room floor. Fully clothed. The boundaries in this kind of friendship were far different from what I was used to. But I'd continue to do my best to keep things on the up and up. How I felt about her didn't matter.
"That'd be great," I said. "It's in two days."
She licked her lips and drew a breath, as if she were going to say something big and meaningful. But then didn't. "Okay."
"I'll look forward to it then."
She just smiled.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A tie or bow tie would have been too much. But T-shirt and jeans seemed to send the wrong impression. Like, "Thanks for inviting me for dinner, not that I give a shit." It was a hard call. In the end I settled for navy trousers and a gray sweater. Long hair tied back because Ada was starting to grab at things. A splash of cologne and all good.
Jean opened the door in sweats. "Hey. Hi. Come on in."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." She smoothed back her ponytail, smile hesitant. "We had a bad day, but she's asleep now. She had a mild fever."
"Poor Ada," I said, keeping my voice down. "Want to put this off for another time?"
Jean crawled onto the corner of the couch, knees drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. That she was comfortable enough around me to just be herself got me a little high.
"Or I can grab something from downstairs?" I offered.
"I had such great plans for tonight," she said. "I'd picked out recipes and was going to go grocery shopping and everything."
"You know, I'd be happy with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
"Typical." She sighed. "I'm out of bread and I ate the last of the peanut butter for dinner last night. Straight out of the bottle with a spoon. It was glorious."
"Ha. All right, so what have you got?"
Her brows rose. "How do you feel about chicken nuggets?"
"Are you kidding? I love them."
"Right. I'll get them cooking." She jumped off the couch and got busy turning on the oven and stuff. "You find us something to watch."
"Yes, ma'am." I sat down and grabbed the remote, started flipping through the channels. No to hockey, home shopping, news, and cooking. But eventually I struck gold. "Top Gun?"
She paused in the act of pouring a box of chicken nuggets onto a baking tray to shoot me a look over her shoulder. "Really?"
"It's an absolute classic," I said. "Come on, you can't not love Top Gun. That would be un-American. Tell me you've seen it."
"Have I seen it ... sheesh." Her lips twitched. "Do you feel the need, Eric? The need for speed?"
"Exactly!"
Giggling, she put a finger to her mouth. "Sleeping baby."
"Sorry, sorry," I whispered.
We settled in side by side with a safe amount of space between us. On the big television, jets flew, doing all sorts of amazing shit.
"What would your call sign be?" I asked.
"Hmm. How about: help, I don't know what I'm doing in this thing?"
I snickered. "Nice."
"Otherwise, I guess I'd have to stick with the Jean Genie."
"Good one." I nodded. "I always wanted to be Maverick."
"It is the cool name."
Of course, we had to sing along with the bad karaoke of "You've Lost that Loving Feeling." It was a must. I may have given Jean slight side-eyes during the volleyball scene. Jealousy is a bitch. If she asked, I'd be more than happy to get rid of my shirt and flex some muscle for her to ogle. This thought didn't make me feel lame and pathetic at all. Much. The action scenes kept us oohing and aahing, and the soundtrack had us tapping our toes. And seriously, Top Gun had been an excellent choice. A great time was being had by all.
Right up until the sex scene. I'd never been so hyperaware that two actors were pretending to get it on ever in my life. We were even munching down on the last of the chicken nuggets by then, and you'd think such a highly unerotic food choice would have helped keep things PG. But it didn't.
"Great song," she murmured.
"Mm."
The screen was blue and gray with the characters in profile and tongues and kissing and oh my god. This was the worst movie choice ever. My dick stirred and my skin tingled. I was such an idiot.
"It's interestingly shot." Jean shifted in her seat. "Very atmospheric."
"Yeah." I searched for something to say. "Really great song. Like you said."
"So great." She nodded, licking her lips and tucking her long hair back. Then she peeked a look at me out of the corner of her eye. "Just ... great."
Like I'd be checking out the naked woman on-screen when she was sitting beside me. Jesus. Why couldn't they just go back to flying jets and blowing shit up? Or they could kill off the best friend already. Spoiler alert. Yeah, we should maybe fast-forward to that. Surely they had to quit screwing soon.
Jean cleared her throat, squirming some more in her chair.
Meanwhile, I crossed and uncrossed my legs. Nothing felt comfortable.
The damn scene was going on forever. Typical HBO. It just wouldn't end. On-screen, the woman dug her fingernails into the guy's back and he was moving
over her and holy shit. Much too much. Was the movie X-rated or something?
I shook my head, turned away.
"I know, it's disgusting," said Jean with a half-smile.
"Like people actually even do this," I joked.
"Right? If someone put their tongue in my mouth I'd just bite it off."
"And you would be well within your rights to do so."
"Incredibly unhygienic," she said.
"God only knows what he's been licking," I said. "Could have been the floor for all she knows."
