Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
JAKE
Why would she do this to him? He hadn’t fallen asleep until four in the morning. Unfortunately, the symptoms of his mental illness included not only sleeping too much but also dysregulation of that sleep.
Jake had been up all night reading overbaked political opinions on social media.
He was certain that his blood pressure was high.
Heaping panic on top of depression was a terrible choice, but here he was.
He wished going numb was an option, but that’s not how his brain and body worked.
Instead, he produced the perfect combination of exhaustion and anxiety.
Both of which were now very much in play because it was way too fucking early.
Opening the front door once more, Jake was greeted by yet another blueberry pie, plus a hug from the elderly woman. The smile on her face drained his anger away. She meant well, and she had brought him a pie. The least he could do was make some coffee and chat with her.
Luckily, after having been there for more than a week, he’d figured out the coffeemaker, so he poured them both a cup. The kitchen filled with a comforting, nutty aroma, and they sat down to devour some of Dorothea’s delicious creation.
It was even better the second time around.
After the coffee and sugar hit his system, Jake was ready to have an adult conversation. From Dorothea’s eager face, she was champing at the bit.
“Have you seen anything?” she asked before draining her mug. Jake assumed it had been left behind by a renter. There was a cartoon lobster emblazoned on the side with the words Drinking the Last of the Coffee is Shellfish underneath it.
Getting up to get her a refill, Jake shook his head. “Uh, no? What would I have seen?”
“Tentacles! A sea monster! Or maybe evidence washed up on the beach?” She stared excitedly at her cup as Jake replenished her coffee. Maybe she’d already had too much this morning. She was practically vibrating out of her chair.
“Right here in front of the house? No. The only thing I’ve noticed is that surfer.
They’ve been at it for the past three days.
” Jake sat back down at the kitchen table and sighed.
“They come at about eleven and leave when the sun sets. All day long with no shirt in forty-degree weather. At least it hasn’t snowed yet. ”
“I told you, we Mainers are made of strong, but strange, stuff.” Dorothea’s eyes sharpened, as if she’d just uncovered a state secret. “Wait. Do you like the surfer?”
Jake’s face warmed as he took another sip, hiding his embarrassment behind his oversized mug. “What are you talking about?”
“You do!” Dorothea stood and shuffled to the other side of the table, putting her arms around Jake, quite intimate for someone he’d only met a few days before. “You should do something about it.”
“No, no, I don’t think so.” Jake gave Dorothea a squeeze and slipped out of her embrace. “They probably don’t even like—”
“Of course they do, sweetheart!” Dorothea shot Jake a crooked smile. “The surfing here isn’t that good. Why else would they keep coming back?”
Jake stood and made his way to the large bay window overlooking the beach. It was high tide now. The water came up to about twenty feet from the side of the house. He didn’t want to think too hard about what would happen if they had a severe storm.
He stared as the waves crashed against the sand. The sea was choppy today, and the sky was overcast. It made the surrounding area look more like a fishing village than a tourist town.
“So you think I should…” Jake didn’t know how to finish the sentence. What could he do that would be at all enticing to a potential lover? He was a disaster. He had nothing to offer. That was why he shouldn’t date anyone.
“Invite him in!” Dorothea squealed. “You have most of a blueberry pie right here. Isn’t that enough of an excuse? Tell him you made it. I don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not? Every romance starts with a little deception.” Dorothea chuckled, the sound like the creak of an antique wooden staircase.
“My sweet departed Gerald would never have asked me out if he hadn’t thought I was a virgin.
Later he found out how much more fun it was with a girl who knew what she was doing. ”
“Dorothea!” Her slight vulgarity shook him out of his thoughts. “Remind me never to introduce you to my grandmother. The two of you would get into trouble together.”
Dorothea smiled, then her eyes narrowed. “Don’t distract from the topic at hand. Are you going to invite them in?”
Jake sighed. He was tired, and he’d been burnt by Phil. But maybe…maybe Doren would be his friend? He could use a friend.
“Fine. I will.”
Dorothea clapped gleefully and did a little hop. “I’ll get out of your hair so you can woo your beau.”
“You don’t have to leave. Doren doesn’t show up until—”
Dorothea was already at the door, still smiling like a maniac. “You’ll need time to freshen up and practice what you’re going to say.”
Jake rubbed his temples with his fingers. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he’d been bullied into this. “This isn’t a marriage proposal…”
“Not yet!” Dorothea called as she stepped out into the sunny Maine day, hurrying along to her next stop. Probably finding some other poor soul to terrorize with her matchmaking skills.
Jake looked around helplessly. More time was exactly what he didn’t need. Overthinking was one of his favorite pastimes. It would have been better if she’d stayed and distracted him until Doren got there.
Heading over to the bay window, Jake stared at the ocean, willing himself to absorb some of the calm regularity of the waves. What would he even say to Doren? As evidenced by every job interview he’d had in the last six months, he was not good at first impressions.
On the other hand, he’d already made his bad first impression, hadn’t he?
Nope, that didn’t help. He understood himself well. Given the chance to fuck something up, he always would. His therapist would call that “self-sabotage” and “the voice of your illness,” but Jake knew better. The evidence backed him up. He was a fuckup.
If only he could invite Doren in without having to talk to them. Then they could eat pie, another prime opportunity to avoid speaking. After that, maybe Jake would calm down enough to figure out what the hell to say.
Not having any ideas, Jake continued to stare out at the water, the tide carving grooves in the sand as it went out again. It eddied around a series of rocks, and Jake got lost in the patterns.
Patterns in the sand. Maybe that could work.
Grabbing a heavy sweater and heading out to the beach, a current of nervous electricity pulsed through Jake’s body. This was silly, wasn’t it? So silly that he should forget it and go eat the rest of the pie by himself.
Except he did like Doren, as much as he thought it would be a terrible idea to be in a relationship again. But maybe it wasn’t about a relationship. Maybe they could be his friend.
Jake had withdrawn from many of his friendships during his time with Phil. That should have been a red flag, but he’d always justified it to himself. After all, forging a lifetime commitment took work. Only in retrospect did he see the error in that. How Phil encouraged his isolation.
Well, if he wanted a friend, he had to do something. This was a step forward.
Finishing up, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. There in the sand in large block letters, he’d written the words Come in for pie? with an arrow pointing toward the house.
That should do the job. Dorothea was right.
He should freshen up now, otherwise Doren would catch him in his pajamas.
His hair was wild, and his morning breath sour.
He hadn’t showered every day since he arrived—sometimes the depression made that seem like an impossible task—but he could get himself together for Doren.
The knock on the door wasn’t a surprise. Jake had seen Doren reading his message through the bay window, and watched them walk up to the house, the sun bathing their perfectly tanned muscles in an amber glow.
Jake didn’t know why he’d thought this would somehow be better than just going out and talking to Doren. If anything, he was more nervous as he opened the door.
The blonde surfer stood there, shirtless as always, a wide smile dominating their face. A bolt of lightning shot down Jake’s spine as Doren’s bright blue eyes fell on him. They were the color of the ocean—not the choppy gray of the Maine waters, but the sky blue of the Caribbean.
“I heard you might serve pie,” Doren said with a smirk. Jake didn’t understand how they weren’t shivering, wet and shirtless in the freezing weather.
“Do you want a towel?” Jake asked. That was the first line he’d planned. He’d said it successfully. Go him.
“Sure!” Doren chirped, stepping in as Jake tossed them one of the beach towels he’d retrieved from the closet of the spare bedroom.
The surfer slowly dried off, somehow making the simple act of running the absorbent fabric over their skin the sexiest thing that Jake had ever seen.
Ending with a frantic toweling of their hair, Jake couldn’t help but smile at the wild mop left behind when they’d finished.
For a moment, an embarrassed expression flashed on Doren’s face. “Do I look crazy?”
Jake shook his head. Not even a little. Instead, they looked like a statue, a perfect creature of the water deigning to spend time on land just for him. It stirred something in Jake that he thought was dead. His stomach flipped with anxious excitement.
He hadn’t been excited about anything for months.
Jake gestured to the table, where he’d laid out two pieces of pie, accompanied by forks and mugs. “I hope you like coffee.”
Doren nodded, sliding down into the chair. Their movements were smooth, almost liquid, and Jake found their presence so appealing. He sat across from the surfer as they picked up a fork and took a bite.