by Amy Daws
As I wait for Val’s assignment to come in, my mind wanders back to thoughts of Jake. I should really try to prepare myself for disappointment. He might not stop by. He probably won’t stop by. But then, there’s always Chaz’s tomorrow.
***
I have a horrible feeling when I wake the next day. I tossed and turned all night after Jake didn’t stop by. I almost talked myself out of going to Chaz’s today just because I really don’t want to face the awkwardness. But Chaz’s is my turf. Jake LaShae can stick it where the sun don’t shine! I sure as hell won’t let a K-State basketball god scare me outta the best part of my day.
I rake a brush through my long brown hair and slip into my bright neon tennis shoes and head out for my morning wakeup call. I glance over at Jake’s window and all seems quiet, so I take a deep breath and continue on my familiar walk.
My heart jumps into my throat when my eyes collide with Jake’s as I stroll into Chaz’s. Jake smiles at me cockily. I can’t stop myself from smiling back. He looks so hot dressed up in his slacks and button-down.
“Hey Finley,” he says as I approach the counter with my coffee mug.
“Jake,” I say, attempting to be cool but struggling because I can still smell the fresh soap scent from his recent shower. I instantly want to press my nose to his chest and inhale deeply.
“How’s it going?”
“Good,” I reply with a nod, glancing at him briefly. “Better after my coffee,” I say, pressing the silver nozzle down and watching the steamy liquid drop into my cup.
He chuckles politely. “I was going to see what you’re doing tonight,” he says, smiling.
“I got nothing,” I reply. Okay, maybe he’s not blowing me off.
“Cool, I thought we could rent a movie. You want to?” he asks, shoving a straw into his cup.
I finish filling my cup and look over at him. Gosh, he’s so beautiful. I mean, I’ve never seen a man so beautiful. His face is chiseled and strong. And his dark olive skin looks positively lickable. Stop picturing him without his shirt on, Finley.
“That sounds wonder…uh…fun. Where at?”
Was I seriously just going to say wonderful?
“You wanna come to my place?”
Yes! Yes I’ll marry you, Jake LaShae! Contain yourself, Finley! “Sure, I can do that. Which apartment number are you?” My internal voice is cheering at how cool I’m playing it here. Hearing him say he wants me to go to his place is seriously revving my engine.
“309,” he says, and smiles cockily at me.
“What time?” I head up to the counter and he follows closely behind.
“What time do you get off?”
“Five,” I answer and hand money over to Alex, who barely acknowledges our presence.
“Can you do 5:30? We can order food or something.”
“That should be fine,” I say, heading for the door.
He nods and briefly looks me up and down. “I’ll see you later then.”
“See you later,” I say, bringing my coffee to my lips to take a sip before I turn and exit. Shiiiiiiit! My mouth! Way too hot! Way too hot!
CHAPTER Five
The day at the lab drags on so incredibly slowly. Thankfully, I have a project to work on for Val, so that helps part of the day. The rest of the day, I spend obsessing over what I’ll wear to a casual movie night with a University basketball dreamboat. Parni glares at me only eighty-three times today.
I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, but I also don’t want to show up in ratty yoga pants and a hoodie—my usual go-to. I end up stealing a neon blue tank from Angela’s closet, and pair it with my shortest denim shorts. It looks casual, but still shows off my long legs.
When the clock finally clicks over to 5:30, I head over. Jake opens the door wearing a pair of loose gray breakaway pants and a tight black t-shirt. His body looks sculpted, yummy, and I just want to wrap my arms around him and squeeze.
“Hey,” he says, and his eyes flash down to my legs. He steps back, letting me in the door.
“Hey,” I reply, looking around his apartment. It’s the exact same setup as mine and Angela’s. They have a large brown sectional in their living room and no barstools at their high-top counter area. It’s pretty bare. There’s not a single photo or frame to be found anywhere.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I picked up a movie. It’s Hot Tub Time Machine. I figured we could pick it apart together. Have you seen it?” he asks, opening the fridge and grabbing two bottles of beer and handing me one.
I tear my eyes away from his backside and respond, “No, but I heard it’s terrible.”
“I know, but sometimes that’s the fun of it right?” he smiles and twists the cap off his beer and then frowns, grabs my beer out of my hand, twists the cap off and hands it back to me.
“I’m up for whatever,” I reply, taking a swig of the beer and hoping the alcohol will settle my nerves.
“Want to order Chinese, or pizza?” he asks, grabbing some takeout menus out of a kitchen drawer.
“Chinese,” I answer, walking around his couch. I glance out the window that faces my apartment.
“Is this the window you creep on me through?” I ask, smiling saucily. It’s a bold question and I know it, but to hell with it. It’s my meager attempt at flirting.
He coughs and chokes slightly on his beer. He saunters over to look out the window next to me.
“Not creeping, just noticing, funny girl.” He furrows his brows at me.
“Yeah, yeah. Tell that to a judge.” I purse my lips to the side playfully.
“Oh, please,” he answers with a sigh, throwing his arm over my shoulders and assaulting my senses with all that he is, and all that I want. I have to physically stop myself from turning my nose into him to get a deeper sniff. “It’s so dead here in the summers. I’ve never been this close to campus in the summer.”
I scrunch my lips off to the side. “So you say.”
“Come on,” he says, and slides his arm to my waist and guides me over to the kitchen. We make a few selections off the menu and he orders while I continue perusing his apartment. The bedroom door to his room is open and I glance in and see a big gym bag and a few basketballs spilled out on the floor.
“You’re kind of a funny girl, aren’t you?” he says, startling me as I peer into his doorway.
“Holy random, Batman!” I reply, not sure where that question came from.
“It just seems you like to joke. I’ve never really hung out with a girl that’s funny before. You don’t wear much makeup either, do you?”
I frown in response.
“I think it’s sweet,” he says, picking his beer up off the kitchen counter and making his way over to the couch. He settles down and I sit a couple cushions over.
“It’s awesome that I don’t wear much makeup?”
“Yeah. My ex used to just cake it on. It would always be on my pillow cases and stuff.”
“Oh,” I reply dumbly, now wishing I wouldn’t have asked. The last thing I want to do is talk about exes!
“I do wear makeup sometimes, when I’m going out and stuff. So, not really when you see me. When you see me, I’ve just rolled out of bed pretty much.”
He nods and smiles as he turns on the TV and starts flipping channels.
“What were you like in high school, Finley?” he asks, muting the TV and angling himself to face me. I squirm, slightly, feeling like I’m being interviewed for a job.
“I don’t know. Kind of wild I guess—at least, when I wasn’t in one of my relationships.”
“You had a lot of boyfriends?” His eyebrows lift in curiosity.
“Um, I wouldn’t say a lot—but enough. I’d always end up in a relationship and my friendships would fall to the wayside. It was kind of stupid actually. Then when I’d break it off with the guy, I’d go nuts with my friends again.”
He smiles and glances down at my chest briefly before returning to my eyes. “Like how?”
I laugh. “Nothing too crazy. My best friend Leslie and I used to go to parties and stuff a lot. We’d always break curfew and get grounded.” He grins at me. “She was a bad influence. Actually she lives overseas now. She did a semester as an exchange student in London last year and never came back. I miss her like crazy.”
“Did you play sports?” he asks and looks at me seriously.
“Yeah, some,” I reply and fidget under his suddenly serious gaze. “I played softball for a couple years in high school and basketball up until my senior year.”
“Basketball, huh?” he asks, looking intrigued.
“I wasn’t very good,” I reply, feeling stupid for bringing it up. “I actually quit partway through my senior year.”
“Why’d you quit?” he asks, scooting closer to me and taking another drink. The look in his eyes is so serious. It looks like he’s weighing something seriously on my answer to this question.
I take a drink of my beer and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before replying. “I guess I just wasn’t that good. I loved playing, but didn’t really have a lot of natural ability. I just wanted to party my senior year.”
He nods thoughtfully, appearing to be contemplating something. “Do you feel like you tried really hard?”
I laugh awkwardly. “I guess. I mean, I went to open gym and played for fun in the off season. But I seriously hate exercise—I wish I was joking.” He scowls slightly, and fixes his face to look pleasant again. “I think I took it seriously but it wasn’t my life like it was for the other girls. I probably cared more about my friends than I did about the sport.”
“I never had many friends,” he says, taking a swig of his beer and looking down at his hands.
“Why not?”
“No time. My dad was my basketball coach and he drilled the sport into me as soon as I was able to walk. My oldest sister is in the WNBA actually.”
“Really? Cool!”
He nods. “My older brother played college ball at a D1 college in Texas. Sports in my family is…” he pauses, and takes another drink.
I frown at the faraway look in his big dark eyes. This subject matter seems light in nature, but his face appears so serious. It’s puzzling me.
“Let’s talk about something else,” he says abruptly. The silence growing between us feels charged and strange. I sigh with relief when there’s a knock on the door and our food arrives, giving us something else to focus on.
Jake places the crates of Chinese on the coffee table and hands me a fork. I sit down on the floor to eat at the coffee table as he starts the movie. He sits on the couch and we continue eating while the opening previews play.
“You like previews or should I fast-forward them?” he asks, and I turn around to look at him as he takes a bite of an egg roll.
“Like! How else do I know what movies I want to see next?”
He smiles, satisfied with my answer, and we continue eating.
I lean back, rubbing my stomach appreciatively. Jake shifts over on the couch so his legs are surrounding me. I start to stand up but he gently pulls me so my back is resting on the couch between his legs. When his large hands begin rubbing my shoulders, I bite my lip hard, trying to quiet the crazy butterflies inside my belly.
“Does that feel good?” he asks in a low murmur. I can feel his warm breath on the top of my head.
“It does,” I reply, closing my eyes and savoring the swift work his hands are making of my tense shoulders.
“Your hair is really shiny,” he says, as he leans down and inhales deeply and continues massaging the tiny knots.
Holy shit, did he just smell my hair?
“Huh,” I laugh, unsure how to respond.
“Come sit up here with me,” he says, and helps me up. He sets a pillow on his lap, indicating he wants me to lie down. I am more than happy to oblige. As his fingers play with my hair, we continue watching the movie and I burst with anticipation for what may come next. I feel like such a child right now, but God, this man is so yummy, and these feelings of lust that I have for him are intense.
He laughs at several parts of the movie, and I laugh with him. We talk randomly throughout. It feels casual and fun. Sometimes he asks me a question and I have to ask him to repeat himself because I’m too distracted by my thoughts of where this is going. I’ve already determined I don’t want to sleep with him right away. I’ve been burned by other guys and I do not want to go down that road again.
I’ve always had a tendency to gravitate toward athletes, in both high school and my early days of college. But it never worked out. I either got bored with them or I was a notch on their bedpost. I wouldn’t call myself a slut, but I am definitely graduating college knowing that I’ve sowed my wild oats.
When the movie finishes, I sit up and stretch. Jake hops up and ejects the DVD.
“Well, we both have to work early tomorrow, so I suppose…” he trails off.
Um, okay? This feels strange. I’m not saying I want him to try to have sex with me, but this feels like a brush off. Last I checked, he was the one rubbing my shoulders and talking about my shiny hair.
“It was fun,” I say, kindly smiling at him.
He smiles back, and walks me to the door. “Yeah, it was. Maybe tomorrow we can go shoot hoops at the gym. Would you be up for that?”
Shoot hoops, huh? Well, okay. That sounds promising. “Yeah, I could do that.”
“Oh, let me get your number before you leave,” he says, and strolls over to his kitchen counter and grabs his cellphone off the charger.
After punching my number into his phone, he smiles and pulls me into his arms. My head hits his wide chest in a tight hug. I inhale deeply, savoring the feeling of his firm muscles under his fitted t-shirt.
“Talk to you soon,” he finishes and releases me.
I offer a dumb wave and turn to head across the parking lot back to my place. What happened there? Was that a date? An impromptu backrub sure feels like a date. But then the bear hug at the end of the night felt more like friend-zone material. I’m so confused.
My phone startles me as I reach my apartment. An unknown number is calling me. I click ignore. A second later as I enter my living room, my phone alerts me of a text message.
Unknown Caller: Answer your phone.
Frowning, I reply: Who is this?
Unknown Caller: Your personal masseur.
Me: What?
Unknown Caller: Finley, it’s Jake.
I glance around for Angela and see her bedroom door closed, so she must have gone to bed early. I head into my room, close the door, and press send on the unknown number. I’m greeted with the beautiful sound of Jake laughing on the other end.
“I asked you for your number!” he says, still laughing softly.
“I just left your house! Excuse me for not realizing you’d be calling me mere moments after I left,” I reply, unable to contain my happy smirk.
“Are you going to bed?” he asks, his voice suddenly sounding deeper and more intimate.
“I was planning on it.”
“Good, let’s talk each other to sleep.”
“Talk each other to sleep?” I reply, my eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, I like talking to you.”
I sigh, “Okay, Jake, let’s talk.”
Two hours later, we’ve discussed everything from our family pets to our favorite tennis shoes. My skimpy bra size even makes it into the conversation somehow. Okay, not skimpy, but my B-Cups could be a little bigger and I wouldn’t complain.
The intimacy of our exchanges is surprising but exciting at the same time. I ask if I can call him back so I can brush my teeth, but he said he would brush his teeth at the same time. We set our phones down, brushed our teeth, and resumed our conversation in bed. I had to pee like a racehorse, but I sure as shit wasn’t going that far with him yet.
We bid each other goodnight when I started yawning into the phone. He said to meet him in the weight room next to the gym after work tomorrow and we’d
shoot hoops. Despite my yawning, it takes longer than usual to fall asleep. Damn, Jake LaShae makes me giddy as a schoolgirl. Is this really going to happen?
CHAPTER SIX
“You skank!” Angela’s voice echoes in our bathroom as I’m showering for work.
“What?”
“I heard you talking on the phone at all hours of the night! I came out to pee and heard you! I know it wasn’t Leslie because your phone plans do not cover international calls for over two hours.”
“It wasn’t two hours,” I argue, clearly deflecting.
“Who was it? You were giggling like a loon!”
“It was Jake,” I answer nonchalantly, just because I know this will piss Angela off—and that’s just fun.
“Oh, ‘It was Jake, she says casually.’ I thought you hung out with him last night? Why would you talk on the phone too?”
“I did, but he called me after I got home and we just kind of talked each other to sleep, I guess,” I reply, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. I feel silly telling her what we did. Saying it out loud makes it sound so lame!
“That’s kind of strange when you live right across from each other. Why didn’t you just keep hanging out if you were going to talk for two hours after?”
I frown, wondering the same thing myself. “I don’t know. Jake’s strange. I can’t really get a read on him,” I reply, and shut the water off. A towel lands on my head.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Don’t mention it. So, what? You think he’s in to you?”
“I’m not really sure. There were moments when I thought it was going somewhere, but then he sort of changed direction. I have emotional whiplash!” I finish, wrapping the towel securely around my chest and exiting the shower. “There were times I felt like I was on a job interview.”
