Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE_
ANGEL
Jamie looks like she’s about to cry, and I am so not equipped to deal with that.
It’s not that I’m an emotionless robot, but emotions make me uncomfortable.
Especially relationship emotions, because I’m not sure I’ve ever had a genuine relationship to know what it’s like to love someone so fiercely.
I’ve definitely never been with someone for five years.
I almost fell off the couch when Jamie said how long they’d been together.
My record is ten times shorter than that.
Six months is usually where I decide if I want to go all in, and in those six months, each and every partner has shown me why they’re not the woman for me.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask. “Wine? I have some red wine somewhere.”
Jamie sniffs and refuses to lift her head. Her laptop is still on her lap, open, but the screen has gone to sleep because all she’s doing is staring at her phone. “Got anything stronger?”
“Tequila?”
“Perfect.”
Filling that request will probably result in tonight getting messy, but if it stops her from crying, it’ll be worth it. Messy, I can deal with. Tears? I’d rather wear electrified nipple clamps. Not to be dramatic or anything.
I pull down the tequila and some shot glasses from the cabinet above my fridge and place them on the coffee table. “Are you sure you want to do this? I feel like I should be the responsible one here and at least point out that it’s a bad idea.”
“Worse than spending five years with someone and being broken up with via text?”
“Enough said.” I slink to the floor, pour two shots, and hand her one.
She downs it and holds out the empty glass for more, so instead of drinking mine, I give it to her.
She screws up her face this time, and the scrunch in her nose is all kinds of adorable. “Again.”
I take her glass but set it on the coffee table. “How about we wait until those two kick in first.”
“Fine.” Jamie closes her laptop and puts it on the couch beside her before slinking back into the cushions. “Why did it take me so long to figure out Raffy wasn’t who I thought he was?”
“Because you love him. I’m guessing.” Ugh, that makes me want a tequila. I refill one of the glasses and throw it back.
What even is love?
I know I love Proxy and my Mike Bravo family, even if they piss me off a lot of the time, but real romantic love? I’m not sure I’m capable of it because I will always put myself first, and apparently, that’s not how relationships work.
“I thought I loved him,” Jamie says quietly. “I mean, you have to love someone to be with them for five years, right? Or to keep taking them back after they use loopholes to cheat on you?”
“I’m the wrong person to ask that.”
“Why?”
“I was just thinking to myself that I don’t even know what love is. If I were in your position, I would’ve left the first time my partner cheated.”
“Technically, we were on a br—”
“Let’s not get all Ross and Rachel on this.”
Jamie cocks her head. “Who?”
“Ouch. Way to make me feel old. How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Oh, so you’re a fetus. Got it.” But I mean, seven years isn’t that much of a difference.
“Fetus? What does that make you? A newborn? You can’t be that much older than me. You don’t look a day over thirty.”
I mock gasp. “I’m twenty-nine.”
Jamie’s eyes widen to the point she looks like an anime character. “Can I have that next shot? I need to bury my embarrassment in a bottle of tequila.”
“Sounds healthy.” Yet, I pour her another one anyway and hand it over. “By the way, I’m actually thirty-four.”
She huffs and downs the shot, wincing as she says, “I don’t know how to take you.”
“You and most of the world. Sorry if I’m crossing a line. Mike Bravo’s love language is insults and teasing, so I sometimes forget not everyone can tell when I’m joking.”
“It doesn’t help that you’re extremely intimidating.”
On anyone else, I would assume that was flirting. Jamie blinks at me, and unlike when Lily bit her lip earlier, when Jamie does it now, it only emphasizes how full and plump her lips are.
“I’m really not that intimidating,” I say.
“I disagree. You look like a goddess, your body is amazing, and you’re so freaking pretty it hurts to look at you.”
“And I think three tequilas is your limit.” Also, this is why lesbians have a hard time meeting women. Because when you have a woman complimenting you like that, it’s easy to mistake it for flirting when it’s actually someone just complimenting someone else.
I need another tequila.
Mid-pour, however, Jamie says, “We should hook up,” and it takes me so much by surprise that I accidentally knock the bottle of Patrón against the shot glass.
It topples over, I drop the bottle, and then my very tasty, very expensive tequila is all over the coffee table and carpet.
Jamie jumps off the couch. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean—uh … where’s a towel to clean this up?”
I’m too busy staring at my carpet and wondering if I suck the tequila out of it that it will be too much on the nose. The carpet-munching jokes would write themselves.
But that’s not really the thing I’m stuck on. It’s what I’m forcing myself to focus on because of what she said.
If it was a joke, it’s kinda mean. If it was for real …
While I’ve been sitting here on the floor, Jamie found my paper towels in the kitchen. She appears in front of me and then drops to her knees, wiping the coffee table down and then pressing paper towel into the carpet to soak up the mess.
But I can’t stop staring at her. At her pouty lips. Her soft eyes and the way her fake lashes frame them perfectly.
“Did you mean it?” I ask.
She hangs her head. “I did in the moment, but now I realize how I shouldn’t put you in that position.”
“Which position is that, exactly?”
“The one where I’d just be using you.”
It’s like a gut punch. “To get back at your ex?”
“Well, that, but also … more than just that …” There she goes biting that lip again. When she talks, it all comes out in a rush. “I kissed my friend in high school and wanted more but was told that doesn’t mean I’m queer, and tonight … well, tonight … you … and …”
My lips twitch. So maybe it was flirting after all.
I lean forward, and she freezes. She’s practically hovering above me because she’s on her knees in front of me, and I’m on my ass, but she’s turned into a statue, so I pause.
“I have to say, hooking up to get back at an ex is petty, but you wanting me because you’re confused is something I can get on board with. ”
Her hazel eyes flick to mine, those long lashes batting at me. “It-it is?”
I nod. “If you want to. No pressure from me.”
She averts her gaze again and says, “Okay.”
She seems so sure about it too.
I force a laugh and pull away. “You seem unsure now.”
“No, no, I’m not. I mean, I am. Sure. I’m not unsure. I just … I was expecting you to tell me I’m not … not …”
“Not, what? Attractive? Have you seen you?”
Her cheeks pinken at that. “No, that I’m not queer enough or whatever.
Or I don’t know what I’m doing. Or I’ve had three tequila shots and am not thinking clearly.
And I mean, why would you choose to hook up with someone with no experience, who might be tipsy, just broke up with her boyfriend, and—”
“Wow. You’re really selling me on this.”
Jamie sighs and then lands on her ass next to me. “I’m a mess.”
“You are. But you’re a cute mess if that helps at all.”
“Not really. I’d rather be a sexy mess.” She manages a small smile.
“Well, you’re that too, but I more meant how nervous you are about me. And while I don’t like that you expected me to pull the gold-star lesbian card, I can acknowledge that’s not about me. Someone must have been really fucking cruel to you for you to think that way.”
Jamie nods. “The thing is, working for Eleven, I’m around gay and queer guys a lot.
So I understand the struggle, especially with Harley and how difficult it was for him to come out to the public.
But yeah, my only experience was that crush I had on my best friend in high school, and because of her and some others saying I only wanted to kiss her for attention, I guess … ”
“You protected yourself by believing and agreeing with them?”
She nods again.
“That’s total bullshit. I find whenever someone’s experience doesn’t match their own, they think everyone else’s is somehow wrong or not accurate.
Everyone’s journey and feelings are different, and that’s what I actually love about being part of the queer community.
You just have to find the right people to help you navigate it. ”
“A-and a-are you that person?”
I press my lips together. The last thing I need is to experiment with a straight girl and have her become clingy or obsessive. I don’t usually like casual hookups either. But with Jamie … there’s something about her that just draws me in. “I could be.”
Jamie’s breath hitches.
“But I’d want you to be sure,” I say before I let her get ahead of herself. “Maybe you should make sure you’re properly broken up with your boyfriend before making any rash decisions.”
“I’m done with him.” It’s the most confident she has sounded in the last ten minutes.
“You’re still angry. Why don’t you wait until tomorrow? You’re welcome to stay the night here.”
The hopeful look on her face is almost too difficult to kill.
“On the couch.”
Her shoulders sag, but she only lets it show for a second before she straightens back up.. “You’re right. I should … wait. The tequila doesn’t want me to, but it does make sense.”
“I’m going to go to bed. You’re welcome to stay up and work for as long as you need. I’ll get you a blanket and pillow for when you get tired.”
“Thank you for doing this. Seriously.”
I stand. “It’s no problem.”
I get the blanket and pillow, say good night, and I just know that I’ll be dreaming of those red lips.
I wish I’d kissed her instead of bringing up all the valid points of why kissing her is a bad idea.
But I know that if I was meant to kiss her, she’ll still be there in the morning. Sober. Wanting to still hook up.
Yet, when morning comes, I walk out of my bedroom and into an empty living room. The blanket and pillow I gave her are folded neatly, and there’s a note written on some paper towel, sitting on top.
Thank you for talking me down last night. I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.
There’s a poorly drawn winky face after that. Or maybe it’s a smiley face? It’s hard to tell.
It’s also hard to tell the tone of that note. Is she thanking me for actually talking her down last night, or does she mean she’s thankful I didn’t let us hook up?
If that’s the case, it’s best that we didn’t.
Even if I was really looking forward to it.