by Skyla Madi
“I don’t care either way.” I try and catch my breath, but his thumbs are pressing into my hips with frustration. His body is dangerously warm and inviting enough for me to want to throw it all out the window and let myself melt into him. “I-I need to go.”
He glares at me and pulls away; the entire firework show stops cold. “Let me take you to dinner—you need to eat.”
“Is that a demand? Caitlyn did say you are intense and demanding.”
He keeps his eyes on mine and licks his full lips. The wetness that stays behind is intoxicating enough for me to need to taste it. “Can we stop talking about her?” he snaps. I’m a little uneasy about his temper—Caitlyn warned me about that, too—but I’m not going to say another word about her. I’ve made him angry and frustrated enough for one day; I at least feel bad enough about it to let him take me to one small little harmless dinner.
“Okay, pizza.” I force a smile across my face. “Pizza, please.”
Jake scoffs. “I can take you wherever you want, and you want pizza?”
“Are you a pizza snob, Jake?” I joke and poke his sides playfully; that’s something my sister probably would’ve done, and that makes me feel ten shades of icky inside. “We can’t be friends if you don’t like pizza. That’s like a number one rule for being friends with me.”
He laughs, and I notice how light and airy it is when it’s real. “It’s a good thing I don’t want to just be your friend, then.” He opens the passenger door of the Mercedes and nudges me inside, closing me in and getting in next to me. “Are you afraid of me? I’ve been told that I can get a little intense lately. I recently lost something that meant the entire world to me, and it’s been frustrating getting it back. I think I’ve been doing a decent job of keeping the heat down.”
I want to burst out in laughter. “You could stand to turn it down a few more notches.”
“Are you mocking me, Bug?” He turns to face me. I don’t want to see if he’s joking or not, in fear that he isn’t as amused as I am. “I do think you owe me an apology, Olivia.” The last few letters roll off of his tongue like sweet candy melting in his mouth.
“No one calls me Olivia unless I’m in trouble.” I shake my head and look through my bag for my phone to send my mother a text telling her that I’m not coming home right away. After a few seconds of me ignoring him, he clears his throat. Our eyes meet; I blush something fierce, and he licks his bottom lip.
“You blush a lot,” he teases me, and his eyes take on a playful sparkle. “I guess I’ll let you slide on that apology.”
“Apology in the form of what? Handwritten letter? Social media? Verbal?” I laugh and shove my phone into my jeans pocket. The weight of the car shifts, and I smell his cinnamon breath before I turn my head and see his body inches from mine again.
“Whatever you want.”
I’m so nervous I might actually lose all body function. “I’m sorry I made fun of you.” The words stumble out of my mouth, and he draws back, amused that I’ve managed to make my way out of that one with grace. There’s a challenge in his eyes as he drives us away from the parking lot, my car fading in the distance.
“Where are you kidnapping me to?” I try and lighten the mood, and he smiles from the side. “I mean, you basically are kidnapping me.”
Jake pulls the car into the parking lot of a brilliantly lit café almost an hour later and pushes the shifter into park. “Since you act like a child most of the time, I can safely say I agree with you about the kidnapping part.” Pouting, I push open the door and let myself out, not waiting for his lean body to catch up to me so I can try to make it inside before he does. The hostess that greets us, a really tall and thin black-haired girl, looks at me with knowing eyes.
Even strangers can see right through me.
“Why are we in Garden View? Are you taking me to Seattle?”
He chuckles. “Not unless you want to go to Seattle, but that’s still almost ten hours away. What’s in Seattle?”
“Well, hello to the both of you.” I half-expect to see cigarette smoke come out of her mouth, from her stale, scratchy voice. “It’s been a long time. Table for two?”
I feel Jake behind me, close enough to touch me. “Yes, Abby. Is my usual table free?” His arm slides around my waist and rests on my hip bone, exciting me in every way imaginable. I like when he touches me, though I wouldn’t admit it out loud. There’s something soothing in the way he handles me; he doesn’t need a map of my body to know exactly where things are.
Abby motions for us to follow her, and he gently pushes me ahead of him, like he’s protecting me from some weird freak attack from behind.
Or like he thinks I’m going to run from him.
“A pitcher of raspberry iced tea, please, Abby,” Jake says, and the woman nods, running off to do what he asks. The café isn’t a hole-in-the-wall; there are socialites having cocktails with their girlfriends in designer clothes and handbags and businessmen having nightcaps and trying to pick up the socialites for a last-minute booty call. They’re all off in their own self-soaked worlds, and here I am: alone with the mysterious and super intense Jake Redding.
He thanks Abby for the pitcher and pours the liquid into my empty crystal drinking glass first, then his own. “Thank you for coming here with me. This place holds a lot of memories for someone I used to know.”
“Why am I here?” I feel the words jump from my tongue, maybe a little angrier than I originally intended. “What exactly do you want from me, Jake?”
My outburst doesn’t make him happy. His long, square jaw tightens, and it’s like his eyes pull mine into him against my will. I can’t look away, and this makes him smile; the dark stubble on his jawline and chin glistens under the café lights, and I find myself wanting to kiss the corners of his thick, frowning mouth.
“And what exactly is it that you think I want from you?”
I snort. “Don’t answer a question with a question.”
“Don’t ask me questions that you don’t want the answer to, then.” He stands his ground as a waiter comes up to us, and my mind races so fast that I barely hear him order a gourmet chicken pizza for us.
“Is she okay? Does she need some water?” the waiter asks Jake, mildly concerned by the paleness of my face.
“She’ll be fine.” Jake waves him off. “You’ll be fine,” he says again, this time to me directly. “Just relax and enjoy the time we spend together; I told you what I want from you.”
“Jake, I’m not looking for anything that you want.”
He sips his iced tea and smirks. “What is it that I want that you can’t give me?”
“I don’t know! You won’t give me straight answers—it’s annoying!” I yell/whisper at him, and this time he looks a little annoyed by my tantrum. “I only came here with you because I felt bad for blowing you off and you made your little weird puppy-dog-Jake face. I don’t want a boyfriend or anything else right now. I have way too many things going on—”
“Like what?” He takes another sip of his iced tea and raises his eyebrows.
My mouth stops moving. I can feel the word vomit rising in my throat; it’s burning my tongue, and I fight with everything I have to keep my story to myself. I don’t need his pity looks or a Prince Charming riding to save the day in his gray Mercedes.
I just want to be able to breathe without feeling like an imposter.
“Jake…” The sorrow in my voice fills the air, and his eyes soften with sadness for me. “There’s just things going on for me right now that take up too much of my time. I’m not looking for anything else more than friends, I guess.”
“So you said.” He smiles, and I get a glimpse of his bright white teeth as he rubs his jaw. When he leans his tall body toward me over the table, he’s still only inches from my face. I smell the cinnamon like it’s bursting from sparkling capsules around my body. “I think you need to relax. It’s only pizza.” He leans back in his chair, his dark blue sweater clinging to his chest as he br
eathes in and out.
He can breathe freely because he can be himself…I never thought I would be jealous of a blue sweater.
“Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.” His rough thumb runs along his bottom lip, wiping off the excess iced tea from his mouth. “I want to know everything I can about this you.”
I snort. “This me? You met me yesterday, and I was a drunken mess on a stranger’s lawn in a too-short, too-tight cocktail dress. That’s this me.”
Jake licks his lips, and I feel weird in my stomach. I can almost feel his lips on mine, and I touch them to make the tingling stop. “I like that dress,” he says.
I feel the heat rush to my cheeks, but I can’t hide it from him. I have nowhere to run. I bite the inner part of my cheek and force myself to look over at him. “I’m a mess, Jake. I have something wrong with me. Trust me, you really don’t want me.”
“Oh, but trust me, Olivia. I really, really do.” He senses my hesitation and stands up, moving his chair next to me, like he did at the coffee shop yesterday. “You may not understand it right now, but you’ll see just how much I really do want you.”
I want to scream loudly and tell him about my memories.
…or the memories that aren’t there.
What would I even say?
“I’m a complete mess. I can’t remember anything before moving to Silver Lake. Nothing is familiar to me, not even my own family. Sometimes I dream about another life, a life that isn’t mine, and it feels more inviting than this life ever has.”
He takes my hand, and I let him hold it gently in his; he laces our fingers together, and his smile coats my insides like warm maple syrup. “Don’t you know this is real life?” I laugh and place my other hand over my mouth. “I’m not normal; there are things about me that I can’t explain. I’m a mess, but I don’t need you trying to fix me.”
Jake nods, and the waiter brings our pizza. It smells so delicious that my mouth waters when I get a whiff of it. He has, once again, ordered my food and drink for me and gotten my tastes spot-on, like he knows exactly what I like. “I’m not trying to fix you. It’s actually quite the opposite.”
I look down at the steaming perfection on my plate and lick my lips, ready to devour every inch of the cheesy, gooey masterpiece inches from my mouth.
“I need you to fix me.”
Chapter Five
Blue sweaters and promises
I know for a fact that my jaw is on the floor. I feel it against the cool hardwood planks, lying against the part where people place their feet, scraping the dead particles of life across the rough surface without a care in the world.
Don’t laugh, Olivia.
Don’t. Laugh.
“I’m sorry.” I hide the fact that I am completely amused at his confession. “You’re saying that you want me to fix you?”
Jake rubs his chin. He’s upset with me, but I have to admit: he does a pretty good job of taking whatever I throw at him. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I definitely have no intention of fixing someone else when the pieces of my own life feel like they’re permanently in shambles.
“Olivia, say something, please.” He grunts and looks around the café, noticing the women staring at him without shame. He hardly cares as his eyes quickly find their way back to mine. His hand is still glued to mine, and he squeezes, hard.
The air is dry and scratches my throat. “I have a lot going on in my life, and I don’t have room for you.”
Jake takes another sip of his tea. He glances over at me and ignores my hesitation; he’s so comfortable around me that it’s surprising. “What’s so complicated in your life? Do you want to talk about it?”
I say nothing. The way his sexy jaw tightens and his brow furrows when he thinks I’m considering it is sexy. Still, I remain where I stand before.
I want nothing from him.
He caresses my palm with his thumb like it belongs there. As I realize we’re still holding hands, my cheeks flush with heat. I expect him to call me out, but instead, he smiles and lets go of my hand so we can eat the deliciousness in front of us. I’m not the girl who picks at her food, even in front of someone, so when I inhale two slices of the pie and gulp down half of the raspberry iced tea in my own glass, Jake looks at me with amazement. I like the silence between us; I’m able to relax with a large, protective cushion beneath me.
“More iced tea?” the waiter asks, but I wave him off and feel the flush on my face again.
“The check, please.” Jake locks his eyes on me. That’s something I find odd about him; I’ve noticed he won’t look anyone in the eye but me. Not even Caitlyn…each time they squared off, he still didn’t look her directly in the eye.
“Ready?” He takes my hand into his and pulls me out of the chair, making it a point to slide his arm around my waist and squeeze as he leads me back to the car. His massive pride wraps me in a cocoon, and everyone feels it when we pass them by.
Instead of opening my door and helping me inside of the car, he spins me to face him. Jake towers over me, his cinnamon breath dangerously close. I allow it to take over my body and make me weak. His body slowly pushes me against the side of the car, and he lowers his full mouth to my ear to whisper, “I want to take you somewhere else…will you go with me?” His bottom lip brushes my skin, and I’m about to explode all over him.
Jake pushes back the hair falling around my collarbone and grazes his lips across the bare skin, sending my spine into a frenzy. I shiver where I stand. I’m frozen underneath him, tucked into a blanket of immobility; it feels so good that I don’t want him to stop. His chestnut eyes are glowing when he looks into mine; he’s so messed up and lost that he might be even worse off than I am.
That still doesn’t mean you have to feel sorry for him.
“Please come with me?” He kisses the tip of my nose gently, melting whatever defense I have left.
“You’re…intense.” I blow out a gentle breeze of air and watch his curly hair move from the wind. My entire body vibrates underneath his; he’s still pinning me against the car, and I wonder what passersby might think about us. “That was intense.”
The fullness of his bottom lip is tucked in as he gently nips at it with his teeth. I see something dark poking out from the collar of his sweater, so I raise my hand slowly and pull the fabric down, seeing the black lines of a tattoo underneath my fingers.
“Well, well…” I return the fabric to his neck. “…tattooed and bossy. It looks like you might be too much of a bad boy for me, Jake Redding.”
He growls. “Again with the assumptions about my character and intentions.” His thumb finds my bottom lip and slides across it. The roughness of his skin excites me. “Are you sure you want to go with me now that you think that?”
I want to wrap myself around you and never leave your damn side.
“I’m not scared of you.” I duck out from his grasp. The moment’s broken as he opens the door and helps me inside. We ride in calm silence back toward Silver Lake; I see the things around us vanish, and we pull into a dark, empty parking lot. “Okay, I’m scared a little now.” I fake a smile and try to tuck my fear at the back of my mind.
He laughs and pulls me out of the car, placing my body in front of his. Kissing my forehead, his body lowers in front me slowly. I feel his grip around my leg, taking off my shoes and socks and leaving me barefoot and confused. Both pairs of our shoes litter the front seat, and he takes my hand, pulling me behind him through the cool sand of the beach.
“We won’t be bothered here. I know who owns this beach.” He grabs a few blankets from a small building we pass on the way to the water. He places them on the sand, and I know he wants me to sit down next to him, but now I actually am afraid.
I don’t want to fall for him.
“What are we doing here?” I sit a full arm’s length from his grip. He opens his arms wide and leans his head back, breathing in the crisp September air, and it makes me smile. I feel his release, letting
go of everything and just…being. I envy him too, because the more I see the happiness grow on his face, the more I become jealous that all of my problems are piled too high on my shoulders and it’s impossible to escape.
Not remembering an entire life can do that to a person.
“Tell me what you’re running from.” His deep voice vibrates my eardrums. He pulls my body close to his, with no warning or permission. “And I’ll tell you what I’m running toward.”
I don’t want him to know.
Keep it together, Olivia.
“I’m different.” I might as well start crying again and give him a better show of just how much of a mess I really am—maybe that will finally scare him off. “I mean, I can’t remember anything.”
Jake nods; he’s actually listening. “Like you have a short memory? That’s not so bad. There are some things in my life I wish I could forget.”
My head finds my hands, and I cross my legs, tucking them underneath my chin in automatic defense. “No, I was in a car accident over a year ago, and I have amnesia. I had a pretty bad head injury.”
“How do you know that?”
“My family told me when I woke up in the hospital.”
“And you can’t remember anything from before the accident?”
Embarrassed, my face flushes. “Nope, nothing before I woke up in the hospital. I don’t even remember the accident.”
His long arms pick me body up and place me against his warm chest; he cradles me like when he picked me up from the wet lawn. His heartbeat is directly under my ear, and it quickens as he holds me. “Don’t ever worry about telling me your problems again, do you understand?”
I sniffle. “We barely know each other.”
“Knowing someone for days or decades doesn’t make them care about you any less.”
I notice the tremble in his voice, and it takes a few minutes for things to warm back up between us. Since we’ve moved to California, I haven’t made it a point to get close to anyone. Being with Jake is exciting and addicting, two things that are dangerous to mix.
