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But she doesn’t.
And for God’s sake, it’s driving me up the wall. Why? Why do I care what she’s ordering?
I regard my own menu, check off all my favorites. Spicy tuna roll. Salmon, tuna, escolar. Chile yellowtail roll.
All the while, I have an obsessive desire to know what Mandy has ordered.
The waiter—Haru—returns with our drinks, and Mandy takes a sip of her martini. Her eyes widen slightly—only slightly, but I notice.
Did she forget that she hates martinis? Or maybe she hates gin martinis. By the look of her, she’s not fond of vodka martinis, either.
“Delicious,” she says.
The waiter grabs her paper. “Finished here?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Then he lifts his eyebrows at me.
I hand him mine. “Here you go. Thanks.”
“I’ll get this started for you right away.”
What did you order, Mandy?
The words sit at the tip of my tongue. Why do I care so much?
She doesn’t seem to worry about what I’ve ordered. She already knows. She knows all my sushi favorites, just like I know hers.
“So…?” she says.
“So…what?”
“You called me three times today. You clearly want to talk to me about something. Maybe you want to explain why you left my house in the middle of the night?”
I have no answer. At least not one my conscious mind is going to let me say.
“It’s nothing, Mandy. Everything’s fine.”
“Everything’s not fine, Jackson. Something was bothering you last night. It was bothering you enough that you ended up at my apartment, standing over me while I slept. Now spill it.”
Spill it. That’s what Mandy always says when something’s bothering me. Normally I can spill it pretty quickly.
This?
I’m not even sure what there is to spill.
Except I do know, and I’m just not willing to face it yet. My guilt about Blossom. My emerging feelings for my best friend. My knowledge that I can never commit to her and give her what she deserves. All this and then some.
“What made you buy a corset?” comes out of my mouth instead.
“I don’t know. What made you buy those jeans you’re wearing?”
“Okay. Who are you and what have you done with Amanda Thomas?”
“IamAmanda Thomas. Who are you, and what have you done with Jackson Paris?”
“I am who I’ve always been, Mandy. I’m wearing the same clothes I always wear on a Saturday—jeans and a button-down.”
