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“Of course.”
I buy the delish, Saturday night outfit, and we head out of the shop, soaking in the July sun as it warms up the afternoon.
“You’re going to have fun tonight. I can feel it.” She lets out a contented sigh. “But I also want you to be careful, okay?”
I nod seriously. “Mushrooms are awful. Don’t worry—I’m well aware. I don’t intend to eat more than one. Maybe two.”
She shoots me a narrow look. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that you’re going to be spending an awful lot of time with a very handsome man doing exciting, dreamy, yummy things. It would be like if I were engaged in a seven-day . . . I don’t know, a Rubik’s Cube-off with Henry Cavill or something.”
I snort. “I call BS.”
“What? What part do you call BS on?”
I wag a finger her way. “It would not take you seven days to jump Henry Cavill. Or to solve a Rubik’s Cube.”
“My point exactly. You just finished physical therapy. You feel good. Accomplished. Ready to take on the world. I don’t want you to rush into anything that might complicate your fresh start.” She stops and turns to face me on the sidewalk. “Especially not with a man who’s leaving town.”
The reminder pierces my chest, sharp and hot.
I don’t want to think of a New York without Jesse in it.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I shove his exodus out of my head. There’s FaceTime and texting. We’ll still stay in touch when he’s in LA.
I meet Gigi’s gaze. “Let’s make a deal. I won’t fall for Jesse if you don’t fall for Henry Cavill during a Rubik’s Cube-a-thon.”
She jams both of her hands behind her back and shakes her head adamantly. “No way. I can’t agree to that. What if I get matched with him at the next Cuber competition? And after seeing me solve the puzzle in forty seconds he becomes so enamored with my brilliant hands that he wants hot, sweaty nerd-sex right on the spot? I don’t want to promise something I can’t deliver.”
I laugh. “Fair enough. But don’t you worry. Because I can deliver. I’m not going to fall for Jesse. Our relationship isn’t like that. We’re just friends.”
“Right.” But she doesn’t sound convinced.
Neither am I.
There’s something stirring between Jesse and me. Something different than the friendship we’ve been building the past two years. Something mutual, maybe. And that feels a little dangerous, but also exciting.
“Danger isn’t exciting,” I remind my reflection in the mirror later that night, once I’m dressed in my slinky skirt, which looks as good with semi-sheer black tights and my combat boots as Gigi promised it would. “Danger is dangerous.”
That’s right. It is. And I’m not into dangerous things.
I will not fall for Jesse, no matter how good he looks in those dark-wash jeans, standing in the last of the sunset light, leaning against a lamppost beside Forage and Fox like he owns the place.
The block. The entire borough.
He radiates confidence—always has, probably always will—but when he turns, his eyes meeting mine as I jog across the street, there’s something new in his brown-eyed gaze. Something that makes me feel like maybe I’m a little dangerous too.
8
JESSE
I didn’t think she’d indulge me.
But wow . . . am I ever glad she did.
I drink her in, my eyes traveling up and down her frame, savoring the absolutely fantastic sight of Ruby in a clingy top that reveals her tanned shoulders, along with a temptingly short skirt. “Damn. You look fucking hot,” I say, once she reaches me on the sidewalk. “And I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for saying that because you said I have fuck-me eyes. You introduced the F-word into this relationship.” I say that like I’ve caught her in the act. The act of what? The act of mischievously flirting with me?
Maybe I have, but it’s not like I want her to stop.
I should, of course. But I don’t.
She juts out a hip. “So I guess we’re just a pair of hot, fuck-me, fucking fuckers?”
I laugh. “Have I mentioned I like this side of you? The surprising side?”
“Glad to hear it. Does that mean we can skip the foraged food and get something tasty and delicious?” She presses her palms together in prayer.
“No way, woman. You’re not getting out of this.”
“Are you sure? There’s a new sandwich shop by the park.” She points in the opposite direction. “Melt My Heart. They specialize in grilled cheese. Mmmm, cheese. Normal food. Yum. Doesn’t that sound amazing?” She already looks happier than she did yesterday.
This list is a damned good thing. Any lingering doubt I had about giving it to her vanishes at her sparkling smile.
“If you eat the mushrooms, you can have cheese and normal food for dessert,” I say to placate her.
