AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I'd been hearing that critique all weekend. Jane lay back into the four pillows stacked against my headboard. Her thin frame sank into the down.
“He’s basically telling you he has absolutely no interest in fucking,” she continued. “Does that sound like someone you want to get busy with? Someone who’s like, eh, my penis can wait. Let’s just have some scones.”
“It sounds like someone who won’t mess with me,” I replied and took a sip of tea. I set the mug on my desk and turned to the closet. I had already run product through my hair, planning to let it air dry into soft waves down my back. It was just breakfast, after all.
Jane’s short black mop, which she had dyed with a bright red streak two nights ago, was currently standing up on one side. She snuggled further into my pillows. “Why is your bed so much more comfortable than mine? It’s the same shitty, university-issued mattress. Also, I can’t believe you make your bed on a Sunday.”
I shrugged at her via the mirror in which I was trying to decide between two different sweaters, holding each one up against my robe-covered body.
“I make my bed every morning,” I said. “It gives me a sense of accomplishment with which to start my day.”
“Freak,” Jane muttered.
Her puffy eyes betrayed a long night; I hadn’t heard her come in last night at all, so I assumed it wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning.
“Which one?” I asked, turning around to compare the black slouchy turtleneck with a green cardigan.
Jane opened one eye lazily and then closed it.
“I like them both,” she said into the pillow, “for sitting by the fire with a cup of cocoa and a needle-working project.” She sighed and sat up. “You’re twenty-six, Skylar. Please tell me you own something that I couldn’t find in my grandmother’s closet.”
I hugged the sweaters. “Jeez, tell me how you really feel.”
“I don’t care if this guy somehow screwed up his circadian rhythms so that he thinks night is day and day is night. A date’s a date, and those sweaters will make you look like a shut-in cat lady. A really young, cute cat lady, but still a cat lady.” She looked pointedly at my glasses. “Are you going to wear those too?”
“You wear glasses every day!” I cried, chucking the black sweater at her.
Jane pulled the sweater off her face and tossed it unceremoniously onto the end of the bed. “Yes, but I am the Asian Rivers Cuomo. The half-Korean pseudo-hipster. Every guy who asks me out probably does it a little bit because of the glasses, as they are a critical part of my appeal. You only wear them when your allergies are acting up. I know how much you like to show off those emerald beauties.”
I stuck my tongue out and threw the other sweater at her, which she kicked neatly onto the black one. Jane had good reflexes for someone who still had bedhead.
“Do you even want to go on this date, Sky?” she asked seriously.
I shrugged. “You pushed me at him. He’s nice. And cute. And not planning manipulative overtures that require him to snoop through my desk and charter planes.” I pressed my lips together, suddenly determined to put my best foot forward. “Yes,” I said, this time with more emphasis. “Yes, I definitely want to go on this date.”
Jane studied me for a few seconds before heaving a big, fake sigh and standing up. “God, you make me do everything for you,” she groaned. “Go put your contacts in, actually dry your hair, and I’ll find you something to wear.”
* * *
An hour later,I was sitting at a table at Graze, the newest hotspot in Cambridge. The place was bright and raucous on the otherwise cloudy gray day.
“You look really nice today, Skylar,” Jared said with a smile as he sat across from me.
I nodded in thanks. Jane had paired a long-sleeved, creamy lace blouse over a pair of dark skinny jeans and my black ankle boots. My hair was pulled back into a side chignon, a style that exposed the gold hoops dangling from my ears. The glasses were gone, and I’d touched up my face with a brush of mascara and some lip gloss.
“Daytime chic,” Jane had pronounced after informing me that my ass didn’t quit in these jeans. After seeing Jared’s expression when I took off my parka, I decided she was right, but I wasn’t sure if I cared that he thought so too.
“This place is nice,” I said, looking around at the bright white interior, rustic tables, and the plants hanging from the ceiling. “It’s like spring in here. I feel like I’m in a greenhouse.”
Jared nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ve wanted to try this place for a while. It’s got a month’s wait for dinner reservations, but they said we could probably get in for brunch. So, bingo, here we are!” He leaned over and set his hand briefly on top of mine. “I’m really glad I get to share it with you, Skylar.”
I fought the urge to take my hand back and just smiled. Bingo? I could already hear Jane making Beaver Cleaver jokes in my head. Without waiting for a reply, Jared pulled his hand back and picked up his menu. I did the same.
The food was served in pretentiously small but tasty portions, and the date passed easily as we shared anecdotes and talked about school. Jared, I found out, grew up in Chestnut Hill, and his family also had a house on Cape Cod. They were classic old New England denizens; he had three direct ancestors on the Mayflower. His father was serving his sixth term in Congress, and his mother stayed at home. He grew up with an older brother, a younger sister, and a dog named Quincy Adams.
“If you want an internship in D.C. this summer, I could probably set you up with an interview,” he said after a bite of his crab cake.
“That’s really nice of you, but I’m not really interested in politics,” I said. There was also the fact that his father was a Libertarian, and I came from a family of New York Democrats. “Thanks anyway.”
