by Zoe York
Jake
Misty pulled up at six-fifty-nine. I knew it was her from the roar of her Mustang convertible. She’d been so much more into cars when we were in high school than me. I’d seen her new wheels when she’d been driving around town, but hadn’t had a chance to get a good close up look yet.
I slid my wallet into my pocket and grabbed my keys before I met her out front. No need to have her enter my apartment. I didn’t want to have to come home later and smell her perfume. This was neutral space. When Misty left I was still living at home, which meant I didn’t have a flood of memories of the good times we spent here. Not like every day when I drove through town and got bombarded by a barrage from our past.
“Right on time.” I gave her a grin as I locked up. She looked damn fine tonight. She’d tamed her curls into some sort of hairdo that left her neck exposed. A strappy dress accentuated her curves, making me wonder why I was putting myself through the torture of spending another night in the friend zone.
“You look nice tonight.” She stopped on the sidewalk in front of my building, her gaze raking over me.
I hadn’t gone out of my way to try to impress her, but I did have on a new shirt, clean jeans, and a pair of boots I’d shined. “Thanks. That’s a really pretty dress.”
“Why, thank you. I bought it downtown yesterday. That new shop a few doors down from the bookstore.”
“Oh yeah?” My mom had been in there a few times, but it’s not the kind of place I’d be caught dead in, not with the pink tissue paper flowers and twinkle lights hanging in the windows.
“Doesn’t seem like I’ve been gone that long, but I guess it’s been long enough for a few things to change.” She fidgeted with her keys while she waited for me.
“It’s been more than a year.” Over three hundred sixty five days of wondering where I’d gone wrong, what I’d done to drive her away.
“But I’m back now.” She glanced up, a bright smile on her made-up lips. “Thought you might like to drive tonight.” She tossed me her keys.
Instinctively, I reach out and snagged them from the air. Misty’d had a series of interesting rides since she’d learned how to drive, and she’d always let me have a turn behind the wheel.
“What’s this baby got under the hood?” I asked, knowing that getting her to talk about cars would be a safe subject. Nice and neutral.
“It’s a V6, but it’s got a few mods.”
“You haven’t changed much when it comes to your love of cars.”
“What can I say? When I know what I want, I go for it and make it happen.”
We stopped at the passenger side door. I assumed she’d get out of the way so I could open the door for her. But as I leaned in, she held her ground, meaning I brushed against her as my fingers wrapped around the handle.
The sweet smell of citrus washed over me, like she’d freaking doused herself in lemons. My mouth watered. I swallowed, trying to tamp down the attraction being this close to her brought on.
“Can I get your door for you?” I asked.
“Of course.” She took a half step back then ducked under my arm as I opened the door.
I waited for her to settle into the low seat, keeping an eye on the way the hem of her dress inched up her thighs as she pulled her seatbelt across her lap. The date hadn’t even started yet, and I was already undressing her in my mind. I shut the door, adjusting myself as I walked around the back of the car. Dinner might take an hour, maybe an hour and a half. I only had to hold onto my sanity and my resolve for the next ninety minutes.
By the time we got to Sal’s, Misty had filled me in on her apartment, her friends in Omaha, and how she’d single-handedly turned her department around at her job. The way she talked about it made her eyes light up. Made me realize how much she enjoyed the opportunities living in a bigger city provided. Made me wonder why the hell she’d decided to come back.
We walked into Sal’s, with her leading the way, trailing that lemony scent behind her. Sal himself greeted us at the hostess stand.
“Ah, one of my favorite couples. So good to see the two of you back together.” He opened his arms and wrapped them around us in an awkward hug. I put my arm around Misty in an effort to protect her from the mixture of Vicks and butterscotch that always seemed to hover around him.
She hugged him back. “It’s good to be here. I’ve been craving your cheesy garlic bread.”
Sal snapped his fingers. “An order of the garlic bread. On the house.”
One of his grandsons, or maybe it was a great-nephew, nodded on his way to the kitchen. No one in Sal’s family got out of working at the restaurant.
“Right this way, I’ll show you to your table myself.” He stepped ahead of us, smiling and nodding at other diners as we made our way through the restaurant to a booth in the back.
The decor hadn’t changed since I was a kid, when we’d gather to celebrate fancy family occasions. It was the only place in town to go if you wanted a perfectly grilled steak, and he’d been running the place as long as anyone could remember. The last time Misty and I had been here had been to celebrate our anniversary. If we’d stayed together, we’d be coming up on seven years this summer.
My heart thunk-thunked at that thought. All of this was too familiar. The way she’d tossed me her keys, the way she slid into the booth first. I’d caught myself before I scooted in next to her. We used to drive people crazy when we’d go out to eat because we always wanted to sit next to each other, not across. Made it easier to keep my hands on her.
But not this time. Tonight we eyed each other across the table as the waitress rattled off the drink specials.
“I’ll have a Manhattan,” Misty said.
A Manhattan? Yeah, things had changed. “Just water for me.”
“You don’t want a drink to go with that giant steak you’ll be ordering?” Misty asked.
I shook my head. “Why fill up on beer when I can fill up on grass-fed Angus?”
Our waitress left to grab our drinks and it was just me and Misty with a stretch of fake wood laminate between us.
“Remember the last time we were here?” she asked. “It was right before Homecoming dance our senior year.”
“No.” I fidgeted with the cardboard coaster the waitress had set down in front of me.
“Yes it was. You had on that suit your mom ordered online, the navy one. During the dance you split your pants, right in the middle of the dance floor.” She smiled, possibly thinking of what happened after that.
I’d been asked to leave since my boxer briefs were on display. Being my date, she came with me. We didn’t make it out of the backseat of my dad’s giant Buick until long after the dance had ended.
“I remember the dance”—my cheeks heated—“and everything that came after. But the last time we were here was on our anniversary. Remember?” I could tell by the way her eyes widened and she took in a sharp breath that I’d jogged her memory.
“That’s when you gave me that ring.”
That ring? It hadn’t been just a ring. “The promise ring,” I said.
“The promise ring.” Her gaze drifted to the table and the moment dragged on.
“One Manhattan and one water. Didn’t know if you wanted lemon in that or not, hon.” The waitress set our drinks down on the coasters she’d left on the table. “Y’all ready to order or do you need a little bit more time?”
Misty swiped at her eyes as she crawled out of the booth. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“You okay?” I called after her but it was too late. She’d already wound her way through the tables and groups waiting to be seated to make her way outside.
“I think we need a few minutes,” I said to the waitress. Then I tossed a twenty down on the table, grabbed the purse Misty left behind, and followed her out to the parking lot.
Misty
Jake was right. What was I trying to do? I had no right to barge back into his life and demand a second chance. I’d given that up when I walk
ed out on him. He’d given me a promise ring. I hadn’t forgotten that, just like I hadn’t forgotten the fact that he’d actually followed up that promise ring with a real proposal a few years after. I had no idea how hard it would hit me when I finally realized what a fool I’d been.
“You okay?” Jake gently put his hand on my back as he handed me my purse.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I just needed a minute.” I slung my purse strap over my shoulder and turned so he couldn’t see the tears that had started to flow.
“It’s okay, Misty. Talk to me.” He crowded closer.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him and cling to him. Like a rock in the middle of a river, or a life raft in a stormy sea. He’d always been my anchor—the one who could keep me grounded when things got out of control, and I felt like flying into a million pieces. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I’d given him up when I walked away.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come back.” In that moment all I wanted to do was flee. I didn’t care where, I just needed to go. To get away from Jake and his memories of promise rings and anniversaries. To escape somewhere where I could pretend that I wasn’t still lovesick for a guy who I’d intentionally walked away from. Who I’d hurt.
He should have agreed with me. He should have handed me my keys and told me to get going. He should have done a million different things. But he didn’t. He pulled me in close, so close that my cheek smashed against his chest. I couldn’t help but inhale his scent. Fabric softener mixed with the unmistakable smell of Irish Spring soap. It had been so long since I’d smelled that signature scent of his. The T-Shirt I’d squirreled away when I left town had lost its smell long ago. I never realized how much I missed it, how much I’d counted on him to calm me down and settle my nerves.
Jake’s arms wrapped around me, nestling me into his broad chest, and I lost it. The tears started as a trickle then began to fall. His hands moved up and down my spine, soft and gentle. He cradled me against him like something precious, just like he used to. I tried to turn off the waterworks, but it was impossible. I had a reservoir of bottled up tears that had been waiting for a crack in my armor to start pouring through.
I wriggled my arms between us so I could try to wipe the wetness from my cheeks. Even my hair came loose and strands of it fell in my face. Some girls looked pretty when they cried, but not me. I was an ugly crier. My nose ran and I tried to dig through my purse to find a tissue.
Jake held his sleeve up to my face. “Here.”
I managed a sound that might pass for a chuckle. “I’m not going to wipe my snot all over your shirt.”
“Too late.” He pulled back just enough to show me the huge wet patch right across his chest.
I ran my palm over it. “I’m so sorry.”
“What do you say we grab that steak another time?” Before I had a chance to answer, he’d put an arm behind my back, tucked my cheek against his chest, and led me to where he’d parked the car.
“But the bet…I owe you a huge rib eye.”
He held the door open for me. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll do it some other time.”
I nodded, willing to let him take control.
“Hey, how about an extra-large pepperoni and sausage from Charlie’s?”
I ducked down and settled into the seat. “You probably want to get home. If you drive back to your place, I can head back to my parents’ place from there.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go home to your mom and dad’s place looking like that.” Jake leaned over and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“What do you mean?”
“No offense, babe, but you look like shit. If your dad thinks I hurt you, he’ll figure out a way to work me into his sermon on Sunday.”
I laughed, not because he was being ridiculous, but because he was right. “Okay. I’ll get cleaned up at your place if it’s okay. That way you’re safe from Sunday’s sermon.”
“And you’ve got to eat.” His eyebrows ticked up. “What do you say? I can have them deliver.”
Pizza from Charlie’s did sound good. And I owed him a dinner, even if it wouldn’t be the big rib eye from Sal’s. “Fine, you call it in, but I’m buying.”
“You got it.” He held his hand out in a fist. Without thinking, I tapped my fist against his, then we hooked pinkies. Another reminder of our shared past.
While I waited for him to walk around and climb in on his side, I flipped the visor down to check my face in the mirror. A stranger stared back at me. Mascara streaked across my cheeks. My lipstick had smeared, and my hair had come loose. I hid my face in my hands.
The car shifted as Jake got in. “Pizza will be there in about forty-five minutes.”
“That sounds great.” Whether I liked it or not, I was no longer in control of the night. That thought brought on an initial wave of panic. Until I looked at him. With one hand on the wheel, he flipped through radio stations with the other, pausing every so often to sing a snippet of a tune.
This was Jake—there was no reason to be afraid. We’d eat our pizza, I’d use up all of his tissues, and he’d send me on my merry way. That was obviously what he wanted.
But then a song came on the radio. A song I hadn’t heard in way too long. A song that we used to listen to while we made out on the beach of Stockton Lake. His hand found mine. Our fingers twined together.
My calculated plans flew out the window. All that mattered was this—the connection we’d rediscovered. In that moment I vowed to do whatever I could to hang onto it, even if that meant finally admitting what had driven me away from him in the first place.
Jake
Bringing Misty home with me was a mistake. I knew it from the moment she stepped through the door. She hadn’t been there for fifteen minutes before evidence of her spread out all over the place. Her tear-ridden tissues littered my coffee table. The scent of citrus covered my hand towel. Lipstick smudges marked up the glass sitting on my kitchen counter.
This had been my safe zone. The one place I could go where memories of Misty didn’t invade my thoughts. Now my safe haven was tainted. The problem was, it seemed like she’d always been there, like she belonged.
While we waited for the pizza, she asked for the grand tour. My seven-hundred square feet didn’t take long to cover.
“Basically I’ve got a kitchen, living room, and bathroom. That’s about it.” I gestured around the space. “Feel free to look around.” I’d lived there for almost a year but I hadn’t done much to make it feel like a home. I tried to see my place through her eyes. The hand-me-down couch my mom passed on to me sat against the long wall of the living room. My dad’s old Army trunk doubled as a coffee table and storage. My aunt gave me the card table and chairs she got as a wedding present, but I don’t think I’d ever sat at the table for a meal. Most of the time I plopped down on the couch and scarfed down whatever takeout I’d picked up on the way home while I channel surfed.
“It’s um…” Misty slowly turned around, taking it all in. “Functional?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
She walked into the kitchen. “You’ve got a blender.”
“Yep. A toaster too. That’s about the extent of my kitchen appliances.”
“I can work with a blender. You have anything to make margaritas?”
“Doubtful, but feel free to take a look.” I nodded toward the cabinet next to the fridge. “I know I’ve got tequila, but that’s probably it.”
She pulled the cabinet doors open, then took a look in the refrigerator and the freezer. “I can work with this.”
As she plugged in the blender, someone knocked at the door. I left her in the kitchen while I went to grab the pizza. By the time I came back, she had a pitcher full of something that resembled frozen margaritas and had filled two cups with her concoction.
“You want to sit at the table or on the couch?” I asked.
She picked up the cups. “Whatever you want to do.”
&
nbsp; “Couch, it is.” I could turn on the TV so we wouldn’t have to talk. Having Misty in my space unsettled me enough. I didn’t want to have to try to make awkward conversation while we ate.
She settled on one end as I set the pizza down on the trunk. “Need anything else?”
“Nope.”
“How about a movie while we eat?” I picked up the remote.
“Something funny?” She flipped the pizza box open. “Aw, you got me mushrooms on half.”
“I know how much you love your fungus.” I settled on a rom-com I wouldn’t be caught dead watching on my own then sat down next to her. Sharing a couch and a pizza reminded me of how we used to spend a Saturday night.
Misty’s eyes welled. “I can’t believe you got me mushrooms. I know how much you hate them.”
“I only got ’em on half. It’s not a big deal.” I bit into a slice as she wiped at her eyes.
“It’s not just the mushrooms.” She sat back on the couch.
“What?” I asked, around a mouthful of pizza.
“You’ve been so nice to me, after I…I was such a bitch.” She lowered her head into her hands.
Oh, hell. I set my slice back in the box. “Misty, hey. You okay?”
Her shoulders shook. I put a hand on her arm, trying to comfort her without opening myself up again. She wasn’t usually a crier. I wanted to do what I could to take the hurt away. But with her here, alone together in my apartment, it would be so easy to give in to the feelings that had been bombarding me since she got back in town.
“Hey”—I rubbed a hand over her arm—“you all right?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. If I ate a mushroom, I’d cry too.”
