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“Whatdidyou guys do? You know, as a couple,” Jamie asked. “I’m curious.”
“Well… in the beginning, when we were still in college. We used to make our rounds to all the different McMenamins.” I paused, thinking of my favorite local Portland chain of restaurants, bars, and concert venues. I could’ve had so many good memories there if only it’d been with the right person. I sighed, continuing. “Dave and I caught concerts there. Or sometimes we went out for a drink at one of the bars. He used to hang with all the popular guys at PSU. So, he knew the best spots… and when to go.”
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I couldn’t see those spots ever being your thing.”
“Yeah, I mean, we had our fun times,” I said. “Eventually. See, in the beginning… his idea of fun was getting wasted in a bar surrounded by a bunch of other drunk guys. Not exactly my idea of, you know, a super fun night.”
“I bet.” He shook his head. “God. The more you tell me about Frat Guy, the less I like him.”
“Ha. Yeah. Well, eventually, after our college days, we started doing things on our own. Without the other drunken dudes. He used to take me downtown to Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall… and we’d catch a classical concert. But that was more for me.”
“He wasn’t a classical music fan?”
“Not especially, no.”
“Hmm. Well, I happen to love classical music.” He sat up and rested on his elbow, smiling over at me. I shifted on the carpet, repositioning to stop the slight pain around my shoulder blade.
“Yeah, I think I remember that about you,” I said. “What was it you used to play? Oh, that’s right. Mozart was your jam.”
“On occasion.” He smirked. “Let’s not forget Tchaikovsky, too.”
“How could I forget? I can’t count the number of times we listened to Nocturne No. 1.”
“Opera 10,” he added. “And, yeah. I haven’t heard that one in a long time.”
“Me either.” I sighed, images of the common room back at Stony Point flashing through my mind. Jamie and I used to study in there. That was usually when we played the classical music—studying hours. Except for this one time. Right in the middle of studying for an Algebra test, Jamie randomly grabbed my hand, and we started dancing to the music in the middle of the room. The right side of my lip curled at the memory.
“Good times, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah… good times.” I let out a breath, remembering how this conversation had started.Fun. Jamie had mentioned fun. “You know, as much as I want to do something fun… I have writing to do today.”
“Yeah, well. Who am I to barge in and keep you from writing?” He shrugged, a look of disappointment crossing his face. Like he was a little kid who had just been told his friend couldn’t come out to play. He added, “I can go, if you want.”
“No, you don’t have to go,” I said. “But… I have to work first. My deadline is next week.”
“So…”
“So… why don’t we do something fun tonight? When I’m done working for the day, that is.”
“Alright, I think I can handle that.” His face lit up. “And… I have an idea for what we could do. Did you know that I used to love cooking?”
“I did not know this,” I said.
“Well, I used to love cooking and… I want to cook for you.”
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “How exactly are you going to manage that, Ghost-guy?”
“Ghost-guy?” he asked. “Believe me, I have my ways. Just trust me, okay?”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve asked me to do that, Jamie.”
“Well… do you?”
“Trust you?” My brows furrowed as I pondered the question. I hesitated to say yes. This was the second time he had asked me this question. However, in this context—trust being such a general term and not simply trusting him to, you know, not lead me to doom in a subconscious state of mind—I had to think about my answer.
After all, this was the guy who had burned me once before, and I would be a complete fool to welcome him back into my heart, open arms, no questions asked.
“I trust that you’re somehow going to cook me dinner tonight,” I said.
