Jane

by Becca Fanning

  “Then I’ll see you Sunday. I gotta run.”

  “Sure man. See ya.”

  * * *

  Jane walked through the mall feeling like a scared teenager. This is not a date, this is not a date. She’d been repeating it to herself all evening already and still had a hard time believing it. She knew Bryce was pointing their friendship in that direction but she was enjoying his company and now she was wondering if she should break her “no more dating” rule for him.

  Bryce was waiting in front of the theatre, scanning the crowd coming in the doors for her arrival. It gave her a moment to look him over. She already knew he had a lean fit build, which she liked so much more than the over-muscled look that was too common among the werebears, but he cleaned up well. He had his hands in his front pockets and looked just a little slouched in this casual, almost adorable way. She smiled. She was willing to admit he was attractive and maybe that was also part of why she wasn’t throwing up walls as quickly as she usually did.

  She closed the distance between them and he spotted her about six feet out.

  “Oh, hey, there you are. I was worried Carter had called you in to cover the night shift.”

  “Nope. I don’t work nights.”

  “Ready?”

  “Sure.” She smiled again. “Ready when you are.”

  “Then after you.” He followed her into the theatre, taking a moment to admire her. She was wearing jeans, a burgundy top that looked perfect with her dark hair, and a short denim jacket. She looked fun and casual. Maybe this “not-a-real-date” thing is the best way to go. I get so tired of women trying so damn hard to impress. I just want normal and casual.

  Chapter 4

  Because he had taken the bus, he had at least twenty minutes to wait before the next one came round to the mall stop and Jane had parked around the back of the mall and had to walk all the way around. “I’ll walk with you,” Bryce said.

  “No, it’s okay. It’s not that late.”

  “There’s been a lot of break ins and shit lately. You know, a lot of teens on the loose with nothing better to do. You don’t need them bothering you.”

  “Bryce, I can lift as much as you can, so they won’t be a problem for me. And there are lights all the way around the building. You don’t have to.”

  “Got nothing else to do, besides, just because I know what you’re capable of doesn’t mean they do. They’ll see a young woman alone and think you’re an easy target, and walking you to your car is easier than bailing you out of jail on assault charges.”

  “It’s not assault if it’s self-defense,” she muttered but he was already walking. She sighed and caught up with him. “Well, why don’t you let me give you a lift home then. It’s the least I can do and I don’t want you alone on the bus at this time of night. There’s been a lot of break ins lately, lots of teens out late with nothing better to do than harass innocent people on the bus.”

  He grinned at her. “Don’t need to offer twice, I’ll take that ride.”

  “Scared of teens on the bus?”

  “Of course I am. I’m not big and tough like you are.”

  If only you knew, she thought. She fished through her purse and pulled out her car keys. “Well then get in and I’ll get you home safe and sound.”

  “You’re not going to kidnap me?”

  “I’m a five foot nothing female – I’m the last person the cops would expect.”

  “That doesn’t comfort me.”

  “You don’t want me to take you home and tie you up?” she said, looking over the top of the car at him with wide innocent eyes. Now why the hell did I say that? I’m trying not to get romantic with this guy.

  “Well, that escalated quickly,” he muttered. “You win. I’m done. Let’s go.”

  She smiled. “I didn’t know you gave up so easily.”

  “I know a master of sass when I see one. I bow before you, oh great one.”

  She laughed. “Okay, enough. You’re right, let’s go before this gets any sillier.”

  “Actually that was fun,” he said after doing up his seatbelt. “You have a great sense of humor and it gets better when you relax.”

  “It gets better when I don’t have to watch over my shoulder for Carter.”

  “We need a penalty system you know. First person to mention Carter off the clock buys coffee.”

  “You want coffee at this hour?”

  “I want free coffee all the time. Come on, you brought him up, you’re buying.”

  “I’m not stopping for coffee,” she said, navigating to the exit that would point her towards home. She stopped. “Wait. Where am I taking you?”

  “Oh, head left, then left at the lights.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What about ice cream? I’d settle for ice cream.”

  “What?”

  “As your penalty for bringing up Carter.”

  “Fine, but you’re paying.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you mentioned Carter before the movie started so you mentioned him first, you’re paying. There’s an ice cream place up the street. They’re open late.”

  “Damn it.”

  Bryce paid without complaint, even when Jane ordered an extra-large dipped cone with peanuts. They sat on the curb beneath the street lights one spot over from her car and ate their ice cream.

  “I’m having a good time, too,” she said. “I forgot how nice it was to get out of the apartment and actually have a real conversation that has nothing to do with bed sheets.”

  “What about these mysterious other friends of yours? The ones that sometimes invite you over for movie nights?”

  “Oh, well, Philippe is more of a family friend. He’s really the only one, besides you, who respects my need for privacy and my dry sense of humor. But he works as a bouncer for a night club so his schedule is wonky and lately he’s been spending all his spare time with Patrick.”

  “So, they’re together?” Bryce hadn’t expected the mystery friend to be a guy, and then to find out this guy was a bouncer, and therefore most likely built like a brick wall was a bit of a blow. He hoped his voice didn’t sound to, well, hopeful.

  “What?” She stared at him a moment. “Oh, no, not like that.”

  His hopes crumbled. “How long have you known him?”

  “Only a little longer than I’ve known you.” She stopped to catch a few drips of ice cream.

  “And he’s a family friend?”

  “Sort of. Or a friend of a friend. Depends on how you look at things.”

  “Our age?”

  “Sure, maybe a little older.”

  How can she be so damn casual about this? Well it’s not a big deal for her. She’s not the one trying to figure out if the person she has a thing for is emotionally available. He took a deep breath. “Does he have a girlfriend to get jealous of you like this Julio of yours?”

  “Julio? Oh, you mean Jules.” She laughed a little. “Look, Jules and Philippe, they’re just friends. We sort of have to know each other and we make the best of it. They’re decent guys but they’re not my type. Too big, too brawny, too much like … no, never mind, I don’t want to talk about it.” She gave her head a shake. “I am not romantically involved with or attracted to either of them, which is what you were fishing for so don’t even try to deny it.”

  “Okay.” He lifted up his hands in surrender. “You got me. Ready to go?”

  “No. This is a big ice cream.”

  “Well then toss me the keys. I’ll drive while you eat. Easier than giving you directions.”

  “Still trying to kidnap me?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  She handed him the keys and they hit the road again.

  The outside his apartment building didn’t look that much different from hers, a little narrower perhaps and a little taller, but the brick facing was the same. He parked her car in the visitor spot and handed her back her keys. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Sure. No problem.
You’re not that far from work.”

  “That’s one of the few good things about working there.”

  “What’s the other?”

  “They hire cute orderlies.”

  “Cute?”

  “Don’t you think I’m cute? Wait, did you think I was talking about you?”

  She laughed, really laughed for the first time in too long.

  “You wanna come up? I know it’s late but I’ve got some kabobs in the fridge. Hawaiian barbeque style.”

  She’d been in a rush getting ready for the movie and had only grabbed some leftovers out of the fridge and neither the popcorn or the ice cream had helped much. She was planning to go straight home to eat on her own and opened her mouth to politely decline when her stomach growled so loud it sounded like there was a cat in the car with them.

  “Come on up,” he said, grinning at her.

  “Fine, just quick, it’s late.”

  They took the elevator up since Bryce lived on the seventh floor. Her stomach rumbled again and they both laughed.

  “Guess I’d better rush those kabobs.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind eating the first one cold.”

  “Yeah, about that,” he said, letting them into his apartment. “They’re not cooked.”

  “How can they be leftovers if they’re not cooked yet?”

  “Even a small flat of meat makes too many for me to eat in one sitting and they’re better fresh. I have them marinating in the fridge and I cook them up over a couple of days. I was going to ask if you wanted one or two but I think I’ll just make them all.” He was headed for the fridge.

  She shuffled her feet in the door way and glanced around. “Uh, so, anything I could do to help?”

  “Open the balcony doors for me. And make yourself at home.”

  She hurried across the apartment, just beating him to the balcony. Her one job done, she turned her attention back to the apartment. It was laid out much the same as hers, a mostly open space with counters fencing the kitchen space in, and some doors off to one side that likely opened onto the bedroom and bathroom.

  Just next to the balcony door was a desk with his computer on it and on one shelf there was a photo. She stepped over to look at it. The photo was of a nearly middle-aged couple, him with sandy-brown hair, hers was darker. They were in some cutesy pose in front of some trees and they were smiling wide. She touched the man’s smile, it was so similar to Bryce’s. She set the frame down again and moved along the wall, examining each picture hanging here.

  Some were landscapes, mountains and rivers. There was one of Bryce standing on a rock, grinning, and one of Bryce with the couple from the first picture, a little older here. She had stopped in front of a large photo of about sixteen people when Bryce joined her.

  “Family photo for my grandparent’s anniversary a few years ago. The blond goof on the left is Karl, my cousin, the one I flip houses with.”

  “These are your parents,” she said, pointing to the couple she’d seen in other photos.

  “Yeah. Oliver and Matilda.”

  “You have your dad’s smile, almost.”

  “That’s because I have my dad’s cheeks but my mom’s dad’s chin.”

  “I guess you hear that a lot then.”

  He shrugged. “You’re not the first to notice. Didn’t your family ever do that? Dissect you, looking for which traits came from which family members?”

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t like talking about my parents. There was an accident when I was young.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” His voice was gentle. He touched her shoulder. “How old were you?”

  It went against all her rules about invasive questions but she found herself wanting to answer. “I was eight.”

  “Shit. I can’t even begin to imagine that. I guess that explains why you don’t like talking about home or your family much.”

  “It’s easiest to deal with it if I don’t dwell on it. So many things remind me of them, even the movies I used to watch with my mother. But I can’t expect other people to tiptoe around me all the time so I just keep to myself as much as possible and tell myself that it’s just small talk, not an in-depth interview.”

  “Kabobs are ready. Did you want something to drink?”

  “Just whatever you have.”

  “I have water, milk, and beer. But if you drink the milk you have to go out and buy more because it’s for my coffee in the morning.”

  “That’s basically the only reason I buy milk too,” she said. “Beer is fine.”

  “Not everyone likes beer so I wasn’t sure.”

  He’d set the plate of kabobs on the coffee table so she sat on the couch while he fetched the beers.

  “You know, I feel like I’ve learned more about you in the last two or three weeks than I have in the past four years or so.”

  “My life before I came here was pretty messed up and more than a little painful to recall. I don’t like talking about it. Everything has a memory attached to it and I’d rather just forget.”

  “Even the good stuff?”

  “Just reminds me of the accident and how much I miss them.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I’m sorry.” He handed her a beer. “Eat, I know you’re hungry.”

  She bristled at his commanding tone but he didn’t wait for her. He grabbed a kabob and bit the pineapple off the end. It smelled delicious and her stomach tightened with wanting. She grabbed one for herself. It was smoky like barbecue should be but sweet at the same time and by the end of the second skewer she was noticing some heat. “They’re amazing.”

  “I’m glad you like them.” He watched her grab a third and smiled. “I’m glad you’re not so timid anymore.”

  That gave her pause. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever described me as timid before.”

  “I don’t know how else to describe it. I remember when you started at the care home. You were scrawny and you jumped at everything. I thought you were scared of your own shadow.”

  “No, just scared that my past would catch up with me. I’d only just put sixteen hundred miles between me and home. I’d been here less than a year and I didn’t want to go back. Now I’ve put another four years between me and my past. I think it plans to stay the past now.” She paused for a sip of beer. “You remember that?”

  “Yup. Kevin used to complain about you. How could a skinny little girl ever be helpful enough? He thought he’d be picking up your slack. And then you got the promotion and he was livid.”

  “And you? What did you think?”

  “I’d been hired like six, seven months before you. I just kept my head down and my mouth shut.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t ask you what you said, I asked you what you thought. Mouth shut or not, I know you had an opinion.”

  “I wondered why you looked so wary all the time and why you kept looking over your shoulder. And I wanted to know who had put that haunted look in your eyes.”

  Hunted might be a better word, and the bear did not like being prey for so long.

  “To be honest,” he went on. “I saw you and I wanted to save you – but we barely knew each other so that would have been creepy. So I settled for making work as safe as possible.”

  “In what way?”

  “I said good things about you to the other staff, and the boss. I told Kevin to shut up every time he complained about you. And I didn’t ask you out on a date even though I wanted to.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “This isn’t a date.”

  “I know. But now you’re asking me out places, at least as a friend. What changed?”

  “You seem comfortable and secure now. You don’t need to be saved. I don’t feel like I’m taking advantage of a terrified child now.”

  “Child? You’re not that much older than me.”

  “So we were both too young. We’re not now. You have sauce on your cheek.”

  She rubbed the back of her hand over her face. “Better.”

 
“No. Here, let me.” He rested his fingers against her cheek and brushed his thumb over the corner of her mouth. It felt like a caress.

  She’d been on a few dates since arriving in New Orleans, even let a few of them kiss her during their brief involvement in her life, but none had made her tremble with anticipation like Bryce had done with a single touch, not since her high school sweet heart.

  He leaned in slowly, waiting for her to stop him, or slap him.

  She was curious and knew she could end it after one kiss, call it a mistake, turn him down gently, stay friends, and someday they would chuckle over that time in his apartment that they had kissed.

  It was a soft, sweet kiss, the barest meeting of lips, just enough for her to feel the warmth of him, and she closed her eyes. He pulled back, but barely, and their breath mingled in the space between them. There was a fluttering in her chest. She licked her lips, eyes still closed. She could stop this with a word. He was waiting for her. Stop or go. He was waiting for her to decide.

  He is safe, said a voice from deep inside her. He smells of comfort and security. He smells of belonging. Her breath came out shuddery.

  “Jane,” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you …”

  “Yes.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. The next kiss was firmer, longer, and left her breathless. She sat back.

  He let her pull away. Her hand was resting on his leg, the edge of his shirt clutched in her hand. She was breathing heavy, but then again, so was he. “I’m sorry. Was that out of line?”

  “No.“ She took a deep breath. “I like it. It’s just, we work together, and I’ve had a lot of bad experiences, and this isn’t even a date.”

  “Would you go on a date with me?”

  “Bryce.”

  “Next Friday. And while we’re at work nothing will change. We won’t talk about kissing or dating. We’ll just bitch about Carter and smile at the flowers and pictures the residents get. And next Friday I’ll take you on a proper date, and you’ll let me pay, and at the end of the evening you can tell me not to ask again. Come on. Give it a chance.” The words tumbled out in his rush to convince her.