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Jake didn’t have to come over here. He didn’t have to buy me food and meds and a box of rainbow tissues. He did it because that’s what he does. He takes care of me.
“Chloe, you don’t look so good.” Jake turns to face me. “Are you sure you’re not getting sick?”
“I-I’m f-fine,” I stutter.
“Are you sure?” He’s even closer now. “You look a little flushed.” Jake raises his hand slowly.
What’s he going to do? Cup my face? Kiss me?
Wishful thinking.
Jake chuckles as places the back of his hand to my forehead. “No fever.”
“I told you.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Jake leans back against the island. His hands grip the marble behind him, causing his biceps to flex and his new tattoo to play peek-a-boo.
“I’m scared of New York.” It’s a half-truth. I’m not really scared of New York, but what it represents.
“Why?”
I didn’t wait my whole life for this moment to give up. I’m eighteen, he’s twenty-three. Age is no longer an issue.
“Why are you afraid?” he repeats.
I close my eyes and whisper, “You.”
“Me?” I can feel him in front of me.
I slowly open my eyes. “Yes, Jake. I’m afraid that once again I’ll be so close to you, but never get to feel you. I’m afraid moving here will end up being the biggest mistake of my life.”
He cups my face. “Please don’t cry.” He swipes away a tear I didn’t know was falling.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. But it’s what I came here to do. I need to know. “But most of all, I’m afraid of never finding someone who will make me feel the way you do.”
“Fuck,” Jake growls, tipping his head back to the ceiling.
“I know.” I grab ahold of his wrists to free myself of his touch.
“Don’t,” Jake warns, tilting his head to the side so his lips barely brush over mine. Not in a teasing move, but a testing one.
“Jake—” I beg for something more. He runs his fingers through my loose waves.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” he breathes.
“I do.” I wrap my arms around his neck and thread my hands through his hair, knocking his cap off.
“You’re so young.”
“I’m the same age as my mom when she met my father,” I remind him. “It can work.”
“You drive me crazy,” Jake admits. “That kiss last year. I felt it.”
“You did?” I ask needing him to say it again.
“It’s why I’ve been ignoring you.” Jake rests his forehead against mine.
He’s teetering on the edge and I need to find a way to tip him over.
