Jack & Sadie

by JB Salsbury

  “What you did was really sweet.”

  When she slips her hand in mine, I practically gasp like a fourteen-year-old virgin.

  “So you can add that to the list of things I think about you,” she says before turning to the window.

  We take off and watch the Pacific Ocean fade behind us as we head to New York. This will be the first time she’s ever come to New York with me. When I was in college, I always came to Vegas to see her, and I never did make it to San Diego. I want her to love New York enough to want to move there, live with me, and complete the life I’ve made for myself that has been missing something so vital.

  Missing her.

  Sadie

  Our flight lands at JFK shortly after four thirty in the afternoon New York time. Jack and I spent the five-and-a-half-hour flight catching up on his life and mine. I mostly talked about school, Ricky, and the few friends I’ve had who had the sense to move on to different states. I touched briefly on the assault—enough to explain what my exhibition left out—and talking about it with Jack wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it would be.

  Although I still carry the mental scars of what Fabian did to me—the thought of allowing another man to touch me intimately is terrifying—I believe I’ve finally left behind the shame and stopped blaming myself.

  Jack grabs my backpack and his duffle, and being in the last row in the plane means we’re the last to get off. We hold hands through the airport. Mostly so we don’t get separated in the hustle and bustle—or at least that’s what we pretend. The fact is, being touched again by a strong and gentle hand feels amazing and it’s easy for my skin to remember how good having Jack’s hands on me felt.

  We walk out of the airport and get a cab. Jack rambles off an address in a matter-of-fact way that reminds me he’s probably done it a million times. There’s no small talk, no typical Daniels charm in his interaction. This is the business side of Jack. New York Jack.

  “You hungry?” he asks, a sweet smile pointed my way.

  “Starving.”

  “Good. There’s a place in my building that has the best pizza, and I know how much you love pizza.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I look out the window, soaking up as much of the New York scenery as I can. Tall buildings, crowded streets, lots of honking. The feel is very different from So Cal or even Las Vegas.

  Jack makes a couple calls, asking about meetings and deadlines, getting caught up on work stuff, I guess. I tune him out and take in New York. I’ve never heard so many car horns. After a lot of stop-and-go, I’m grateful to feel the cab stop and hear the driver mutter the amount.

  Jack swipes a card, hits a couple buttons, and then offers to help me out of the back seat. He grabs our bags from the trunk while I stare at a tall building made of glass, metal, and concrete. It’s more modern than I would’ve expected, looking more like a business building than a residential one. The smell of garlic and dough calls my eyes to a cute pizza place at the base of the building.

  “Come on,” Jack says, motioning for me to follow him through the double doors.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Daniels.” The doorman wearing a black suit and name tag greets Jack, then does a double-take on me. “Miss.”

  “Jonathan,” Jack says with little feeling. “Good to be home.”

  Jack guides me to a bank of elevators, and I’m amazed at how comfortable he seems living in what seems to be more hotel than home.

  “What do you think?” He leans proudly against the elevator wall.

  “Fancy,” I say with a smile.

  I won’t tell him the truth, but his demeanor changed since we got here. The silly, fun-loving Jack was apparently left behind on our plane. As far as the building goes, it seems cold, sterile. It lacks any personality or personal flare. I’m used to places covered in folk art and colors. This place doesn’t seem like Jack at all. When he was young, his room was covered in sports posters, and his two guitars hung on the walls. This new Jack has more refined tastes, more culture, less… me.

  He leads me down a long hallway with wood floors and modern wall sconces. Like a hotel, every door looks the same. We stop at 2533 and I commit the number to memory in the event that I might have to find it again on my own.

  “How long have you lived here?” I ask as he unlocks the door and pushes it open.

  “About a year.” He flips on the lights.

  The apartment is as bland as the rest of the building. Modern furniture, generic framed art on the walls, nothing with any kind of personality.

  “Did it come furnished?”

  Jack looks around as if he’s trying to see his place through my eyes. “No. I bought all this, with the help of a decorator.”

  I follow him through the small living room, past a nook-style dining room, to a hallway that leads to the bedroom.

  He drops our bags on his king-sized bed. “I only have one bedroom. I’m happy to take the couch if—”

  “It’s fine.” I smile, hoping to relieve some of the nervous energy buzzing between us. “That bed is plenty big for the both of us.”

  “Remember squeezing into your twin at your parents’ house?”

  “My dad refused to get me a queen.” I laugh. “We had to spoon the entire night to fit.”

  “His plan to keep you alone in that bed backfired big time.” His gaze darts down my body. “Meant I got to hold you closer through the night.”

  The nervous energy changes to tension, the kind that pulls at my belly and makes my body warm.

  He blinks and clears his throat. “Food. I should get you fed. That airplane food is shit.”

  He heads toward the open doorway where I’m standing, and I take a second too long to move. He stops inches from me.

  “I’m sorry, I…” I side step only to have his big hands catch my hips, keeping me in place. I stare at his shirt, afraid to see what emotion might be burning in his eyes. “Jack…”

  Cautiously, his hands slide from my hips to my lower back, tugging my front flush with his. “Is this okay?”

  Is it? I do a quick inventory of my feelings and find only comfort, safety, and heat. “Yes.”

  He presses his lips to the top of my head, and I hear his deep inhale. I tentatively rest my hands on his powerful back, falling deeper into the hug. A soft sigh falls from his lips as I rest my cheek against his chest. His heart hammers, matching the urgency of my own.

  I don’t know how long we stand like this—his body curled around mine while I hold him as tightly as I can. All I know is that I would stay like this, wrapped up in Jack, for as long as he’d allow it.

  My stomach growls and he chuckles into my hair. “I need to get you fed, Sadie girl.”

  Now it’s my turn to sigh, both at the tender way he says my old nickname and at my reluctance to pull away.

  His lips press to my head again, a little firmer, lingering a little longer, then he pulls back enough to grab my hand. “Thank you for that.”

  “I was about to say the same to you.”

  The smile that stretches across his face is nothing short of brilliant, and I can’t help but match it with one of my own. I didn’t realize how much I missed Jack, and now that we’re together, I wonder how I ever managed so long without him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jack

  “Tanner had to walk all the way home in snow, wearing nothing but his shirt and boots, holding his dick and balls in his hands to keep them from freezing off.” I’m telling Sadie about the last day of our junior year, when Tanner hooked up with a chick in the bathroom at a bar and she stole his pants to get his wallet.

  Sadie laughs, and the sound swirls around me like an embrace. She sips on her water through a straw. The straw I’ve been cursing all night, because there’s something beautiful about watching her lean forward and wrap her lips around it.

  I’m a fucking pig.

  “That sounds like something that would happen to Tanner,” she says, leaning back in her seat. We polished off a l
arge pepperoni pizza. She had two pieces, and I ate the rest. “His wife must be something special to put up with him on a daily basis.”

  I take a gulp of my Peroni. “She’s something, all right.”

  She grimaces. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Do you remember Amy Alcott from high school?”

  “How could I forget? She stole the Tiffany necklace my parents got me for my sixteenth birthday, remember?”

  “Oh shit, that’s right!”

  “Remember she swore it was hers? But I know she swiped it from my PE locker. I always took it off because I thought I would lose it. Bitch.”

  “Let’s just say, Tanner’s wife, Maribeth, reminds me very much of Amy Alcott.”

  She grins but says, “Yikes.”

  I grin back. “Yeah.”

  We fall into a stretch of silent eye contact. It’s been happening more and more tonight, and I wonder if her thoughts are headed in the same direction mine are. It’s as if our hormones have picked up right where they left off years ago.

  She breaks the eye contact and scoots her water glass around on the table. “I uh, I’m going to hit the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure.” I point her toward the bathroom and watch her sexy ass as she moves across the room before she disappears around a corner.

  I know the polite thing to do would be to offer to do a little sightseeing. After all, it’s not even six o’clock yet and she’s never been to the city. But all I really want to do is take her home, strip her down, and pull her into my bed.

  Shit. No, I can’t do that. Not after what that fuck in San Diego did to her. I down the rest of my beer and wish I could break the bottle over that Fabian fuckers head then slice off his dick with the broken glass. Then I would gather the severed—the myBubble app pings with a new notification, dissolving all thoughts of a bloody revenge.

  I look toward the bathrooms. What could she possibly be texting Dawn about from the john?

  I pull out my phone and check the message under the table.

  * * *

  Have you ever hooked up with an ex-boyfriend, ya know, when you’re not actually together?

  * * *

  “Holy shit,” I mumble and text back.

  * * *

  Absolutely! Highly recommend.

  * * *

  Really?

  * * *

  “Umm, yeah,” I say to myself while typing back.

  * * *

  Umm, yeah!

  * * *

  Why?

  * * *

  “Because your ex-boyfriend is sitting out here feeling like he might explode if he doesn’t get his hands on you? Because he loves you? Because you need to be reminded of what it’s like to be with someone who can make you feel good? And safe?” I can’t say that, so I come up with how I think a female would respond.

  * * *

  To see if there’s still something there. Chemistry. Compatibility. Love?

  * * *

  None of those were ever an issue for us in the past. ;)

  * * *

  A winky face? A slow grin tugs at my lips. “No, sweetheart, they sure as fuck were not, and they still won’t be if you’d only let me prove it.” I type back a speedy response.

  * * *

  I say go for it!

  * * *

  What if it ends up meaning more to me than it does to him? What if I fall for him again and he doesn’t feel the same?

  * * *

  My chest throbs painfully that she’d think that’s even a possibility. “Not a chance, Sadie girl.”

  * * *

  What does your gut tell you?

  * * *

  When she doesn’t respond right away, I check the bathrooms, nervous she’ll walk out at any moment. My heart pounds when the text bubbles come back, and I wait not-so-fucking-patiently for her response.

  * * *

  My gut tells me to go for it.

  * * *

  “Yes!” I shout, earning a glare from the couple next to me. “I’m sorry.” I type back.

  * * *

  There’s your answer.

  * * *

  Having all the information I need, I tuck my phone into my pocket as Sadie comes out of the bathroom.

  She slides into the booth across from me and scowls. “What?”

  “What do you mean what?”

  Her gaze roams my face, studying my attempt to smother a stupid grin. “Why do you look weird?”

  “Me? Weird?”

  She tilts her head adorably. “Yeah.” She’s smiling and so fucking cute. “You have that look.”

  “This look?” I point toward my face.

  Her expression warms as we fall into our familiar old banter.

  I lean my elbows on the table, holding her gaze. “Get used to it, because this is the look of a man who is not going to take even a second of his time with you for granted.”

  She leans into the table too, her hand propped under her chin. “You know, sometimes I think you’ve changed so much, but other times, when you say stuff like that, I think you haven’t changed at all.”

  “I’m still me, with a few improvements.”

  “Improvements? I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Is it just me or did her voice drop an octave? “What do you want?”

  Her brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

  A flush of pink kisses her cheeks, telling me she knows exactly what I mean. When she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, I break the tension, fearing too much too soon might spook her. “To do? What do you want to do?”

  Her eyes flare a little. It’s subtle, but I catch it. “What, uh, what are my options?”

  “I could take you sightseeing?”

  She seems a little relieved but shrugs.

  “A movie?”

  “Out? Or… in?”

  I’m not sure if she hesitated before the last word or if I imagined it, but either way, I like how she said it. With expectation and promise. “Your choice.”

  When it comes to taking things between us to the next level physically, after what happened to her, it has to be on her terms completely.

  “It’s been a long day of traveling”—she draws patterns on the table with her finger—“and I didn’t get any sleep on the plane because the guy I was sitting next to wouldn’t stop talking.”

  “Dick.”

  “I know, right.” She smiles and meets my eyes without a hint of hesitation. “A movie in sounds great.”

  Yes, yes, fuck yes!

  “Cool. I’ll get the bill.” I flag down our waitress and rather than give her a card and have to wait for her to bring it back, I throw down cash and hold out my hand to Sadie. “Let’s go get comfortable and I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

  She looks at me with a sparkle in her eyes. “The Fault in our Stars.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a movie. You haven’t seen it?”

  I shake my head. If I know Sadie like I think I do, it’s a romantic movie. The title implies fate and destiny and a meant-to-be kind of love. Sounds perfect for us.

  She smirks. “Oh, this’ll be fun.”

  Sadie

  “I’m not crying.” Jack swipes his eyes. “Stop staring at me.”

  I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing because oh my God, he is totally crying. “You don’t have to be ashamed. It’s a sad movie.”

  “Why would you suggest this?” He sniffs. “It’s fucking awful.”

  I snuggle deeper under the blanket to hide my grin.

  Once we got back from having pizza I changed into sleeping shorts and a tank top and he kicked off his shoes but kept on his jeans and T-shirt. He assured me we would be able to find any movie we wanted on his gigantic big screen TV, and he was right. We rented The Fault in Our Stars, one of my all-time favorite movies that I’ve seen a million times. It helped when I was in desperate need of a good cry, but I’m desensitized to it now.

  “
It’s romantic.” I shrug.

  His wide, bloodshot eyes swing toward me. “Romantic?”

  “In a Romeo and Juliet kind of way.”

  “Fuck.” He makes another pass at me with his eyes then pushes up from the couch. “This dark side of you. It’s new.”

  “Life will do that to a person.” I sit up taller to talk to him over the back of the couch as he fills a glass of water in the kitchen. “Sorry I’m not all unicorns and rainbows anymore.”

  He looks at me thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s cool. I get it.”

  He drains the glass of water and comes back to the couch. Rather than sitting on the opposite end where he spent the entire movie, he sits right next to me, his hip pressed to mine, his torso twisted to face me. “I didn’t say I didn’t like this new side of you.”

  I open my mouth to say something snarky, but the words die in my throat when his hand pushes hair off of my face and tucks it behind my ear. His gaze drops from my eyes to my lips.

  “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “I’d love to kiss you.” His eyes search mine. “Would it be all right if I did?”

  I swallow and slowly nod. I’ve wanted to kiss Jack all night, fantasized about what it would be like to feel his lips on mine again, but now that we’re here, so close, a flutter of fear crawls up my throat.

  This is Jack.

  Safe. Sweet. Gentle Jack.

  He leans in, bringing his lips so close, but stops before they touch mine. He studies me again, and whatever he sees makes him close the distance and press his lips to mine. His hands stay at his sides, only our mouths making contact. He lightly kisses the corners of my mouth, one then the other, teasing, testing, toying.