Chapter 1
Jacob
The navy suit feels like a costume for tonight, but I figure I’d put in the effort. I’m halfway through deciding if the charcoal gray suit is too much when the phone buzzes on the dresser.
Jessica: Still on for tonight? 😊
Me: Absolutely. Pick you up at 7.
I toss the phone onto the bed and reach for the navy one. After fastening my cufflinks twice on each side, I wipe the sweat from my brow. First date in five years. No big deal. Just gotta keep it chill.
Jessica was friendly and easy to talk to at Noah’s birthday party a few months back. She was one of the preschool moms: blonde, killer smile, nice legs. She got my attention during the boys vs girls kickball game. I love an athletic woman. I live in California; you’d think the state would be full of athletic women. Anyway, when she asked for my digits, I didn’t even think twice.
I’ve handled the logistics for tonight: reservations at that pricey Mediterranean spot across town, her favorite flowers, and a table right against the panoramic window. Maybe this was the move. Someone new who didn’t know the old version of me. After Tori, I intentionally kept my passenger seat empty. I was comfortable coming home to peace and quiet, but Emi changed all of that.
I was depressed, and the worst of it lasted about four months. I stopped cooking. Stopped opening the blinds. Some nights I’d sit in the same chair until the light outside changed twice.
Em never asked if I was okay, but she kept showing up.
I’d hear her key in the lock and the specific sound of my refrigerator opening, the quiet percussion of her going through what I had. She never commented on how bad off I was. She’d bring in groceries, setting them on the counter with those delicate, careful hands. There was always an apple for me to snack on while she cooked.
I used to sit at the kitchen island and watch her.
She moved through my kitchen like it was home. Her whole body leaned slightly into the cuts she made, curls falling forward over one eye while she worked on whatever was on the board. Fast and quiet and completely at ease in a space I’d stopped being able to inhabit.
Once, she looked up and caught me watching.
She didn’t say anything. Just smiled and pushed the curls back with her wrist, hands still wet from chopping fruit. Then she went back to the cutting board.
I don’t know why that moment was different. Nothing happened. She didn’t touch me or say anything profound. She looked, and then she looked away, but in that moment, I knew she was there because she cared, not because she pitied me.
So yeah, it's time to fill my passenger seat. I'm ready to share my kitchen with someone.
Maybe Jessica.
I pull up to her place an hour before the reservation. She lives in an old vintage building that looks like one of those places they drive by on the ghosts of Hollywood tour. When she walks out, she’s head-to-toe LA glam in a silky red dress that flows over every curve of her thin frame. Sky-high heels make her legs look like they go on forever.
I do love a good pair of long legs.
Standing in front of her building on the sidewalk, I smile with approval.
“Jessica, you look great. As always.” I hold out the bouquet with one hand and slide the other in my pocket, wiping the sweat from my palm. “These are for you.”
Just keep it cool, man.
She gives me a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach those big blue eyes, then her gaze flicks over my shoulder. Her nose scrunches and her forehead wrinkles.
“You’re driving... a Jeep?”
“Yeah. She’s solid. Had her since my UC San Diego days.”
She’s spotless, she’s mine, and the effort I’ve put into the night should matter more than my car. I keep the thought locked down. Jessica is already power-walking toward the passenger door. With the bouquet in one hand, I scramble to open it for her with the other, but she beats me to it, pulling herself into the seat with a sharp exhale.
Oh boy.
At least the table is a win. The view is prime, the lighting is low, and the mood is pure romance. The waiter walks us over to a table with a panoramic view of the ocean. Just like I requested.
“You mentioned you dig Mediterranean, so I snagged us a spot here.” I pull out her chair.
She sits down without acknowledging the view. “Hmm. It’s not exactly the Peninsula, but it’ll work for a first date.”
I’ve spent an hour reading reviews for this place. I’ve called twice to secure this specific table, and she’s treating it like a consolation prize. I exhale and casually check my watch as I take my seat. Jessica is already buried in the menu.
“So, Jacob, tell me about the grind. What’s your actual job again?”
“We never really got into that.” I pause and take a sip of water. “Honestly, I’d love to just forget the office tonight.”
She looks up, her eyes scanning my suit, lingering on the watch, then settling on my face with a look that feels like I’m meeting with my accountant at tax time.
“You’re dressed well, expensive watch. But the Jeep is a... choice. Where do you live? Do you actually have a career?”
A dry laugh escapes me. My foot taps a restless beat under the table. Suddenly, my empty kitchen doesn't seem so bad.
“Jessica, the entrees here are eighty bucks a pop. Add drinks and the rest, we’re looking at over a hundred per person. We wouldn’t be sitting here if I weren’t bringing home a paycheck.”
She softens her eyes and pulls her lips into a dramatic pout, her fingers grazing mine across the table. “Aw, Jake. It’s cute that you think a hundred bucks is a lot. That’s why I like you. You’re just so... simple.”
The staccato taps of my foot grow stronger. I study her for a sec; she lacks Emi’s poise and beauty, and she definitely doesn’t have Tori’s fiery charm.
I clench my jaw and check my watch... again.
Simple.
“Simple,” I say, more as a statement than a question.
“Yeah. In a good way!” She beams, totally oblivious. “Easygoing. Sweet.”
Right.
Leaning back in my chair, I exhale. The rustic wooden ceiling beams, the strategically placed citrus trees, the teak wood floors, linen table cloths, and crystal chandeliers laugh at me.
Simple.
This overpriced night is sooo fucking simple.
The rest of dinner with her is the real grind, and I knew it was a wrap when she asked me to pay for her next Botox appointment.
Maybe I’m rusty. Maybe she’s just “a lot.” Probably both, but by the time the check comes, I’m ready to never see her again.
Back at her apartment, she invites me up.
“Jake, I know I was being a bit much about the Jeep and the food, but I really did have a good time tonight.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She touches my arm. “Come up. We can put a movie on.”
I want to say no and make a beeline for my Jeep, but she smiles sweetly and says, “You like horror, right?”
For the first time tonight, she’s remembered something about me that isn’t financial. I comb my fingers through my hair and check my watch, tapping my tongue behind my teeth while I consider the potential loss of saying yes.
She grabs my hand and slowly pulls me toward her door. “C’mon... you know you want to.”
An hour later, we’re on her couch. She’s swapped the silk dress for cotton shorts and a thin tank top that exposes her pink nipples. She’s tucked herself under my arm while some disaster flick plays.
NOT a horror movie, obviously.
There's a picture of her, her ex-husband, and their kid on the key table near the door, and her wedding picture hangs on the hallway wall. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Maybe I should leave.
“You smell good, Jake.”
Her fingers slide under the hem of my shirt, tracing the line of my abs. My muscles tense. Her long fingers stumble across my skin like drunken spiders, tickling every spot they scurry across. I’m sure what I’m feeling isn’t the sensation she’s going for.
I place my elbow on the arm of her couch and cover my mouth with my fingers, hoping she doesn’t notice my smile or the tremors running through my stomach as I fight back laughter.
Breathe, Jake.
She sits up, pulling away to look at me. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just... really into this movie. You think they make it out?”
She giggles, a sound that feels too rehearsed, and straddles my lap. Jessica is beautiful, no doubt. Blonde hair, soft tan, the thin fabric of her shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. But the connection isn’t there. The night has been a series of tiny cuts, and my cock wants no parts of it.
She kisses and sucks at my neck, and I let her, relaxing my head against the back of her couch.
A few minutes pass, and she's still going at it. Maybe I should rub her thighs or grip her ass? Before I do, I notice the molding.
The molding on her walls has these swirls that remind me of the ocean. The swells were so good this morning. I swear, the flow of the morning waves is like the best high.
Jess shifts against me; her kisses are mushy against my skin. Her tongue doesn’t have a delicate touch. No. She licks me, hard and long, with a flat tongue like I’m a fucking ice cream cone.
My nose scrunches with each pass. I stiffen, trying not to pull away from her, but sitting here is making my dinner churn in my stomach.
Once she’s done grooming me with her tongue, she leans back, catching my eyes, hips grinding against mine.
“It’s okay to touch me,” she whispers as she goes for my belt.
With my hands firm on her waist, I stop her. “Jessica, sorry. I like to take things slow.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh. I-I... wasn’t expecting that.”
She slides off my lap, her hand brushing over me as she moves — a deliberate check to see if her tactics worked.
They hadn't.
She moves into the corner of her couch and crosses her legs while I sit here, listening to the air move.
“I can head out if you want,” I offer.
“No. Stay. Let’s finish the movie.”
She rubs my leg, but her energy is gone. After a few minutes, she turns to me. “I’m sorry, Jake, but I’ve never actually been turned down. I don’t usually make the first move, but when I do, it’s a ‘yes.’ You just caught me off guard.”
“You’re gorgeous, Jessica. In a different headspace, I’d be all over you.”
She gives me another smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Thanks.”
We settle back in and she starts chirping at the characters, yelling at the screen when they do something stupid.
“Oh, come ON!” she shouts. “Don’t go in the basement! It’s a flood! What is wrong with these people?”
I laugh out loud. “They can’t hear you, Jess.”
“They need to! I’m the only one with any sense in here.” She tosses a piece of popcorn at the TV. “See? Dead. Told you.”
She turns to me, hair a mess, makeup a little smudged. She looks nothing like the woman who judged my car.
“Sorry. I get into it.”
“Don’t be. It’s cute.” I reply.
For the first time all night, her smile feels real. We spend the rest of the night talking about her son, the divorce, and the nightmare parents at the preschool. She’s sharp and actually kinda cool when she isn’t trying to be so “LA.”
Later, after a long shower, I lie in bed with my hands behind my head. I tried so hard to make the night “perfect,” but she seems to dig the time at her apartment more than the fancy restaurant.
I grab my phone and pull up Emi. Our last convo was more than a month ago.
Maybe I should...
My finger hovers over the phone icon. I want to tell her about my first night back in the game, but she’s been missing in action since her divorce was finalized. Emi nurtures everyone, but when it’s her turn to be nurtured, she runs away.
My phone buzzes.
