Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
After Jackson left, I crept into his room with the washed linen to make up his bed. The room still felt empty. I dragged in a small table for a nightstand. Then I added lamps and a throw blanket and I stocked his bathroom with fresh towels, soap, and shampoo.
Matt texted me back.
Matt: Sorry. I forgot to tell you about Jackson.
When was the last time Matt talked to Jackson? What was their relationship? Why had he invited his childhood friend to visit? How long was he staying? I chewed on my lip, debating on what to write.
Me: How long do you think he’ll stay?
Matt: I don’t know. Maybe a few months?
In disbelief, I stared at my phone. Jackson was going to move in with us for a few months? I took a few deep breaths. It’d be fine. This would be fine. Matt would come home tonight, and he’d explain everything to me.
Me: Okay. I'm going to make dinner for us all tonight. Will you be home?
Matt: Sure
A few hours later, dinner was almost ready, and there was no sign of either Jackson or Matt. Not wanting to eat dinner alone with our guest, I pressure texted Matt.
Me: Are you on your way home?
Matt: I'm leaving in 5 minutes.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in.” My voice echoed across the loft.
Jackson wore a baseball cap and a t-shirt that looked damp in places. In his big hand, he carried a small paper bag. His glance took in the entirety of the loft and the stairs. He was looking for Matt. He stopped on the other side of the island. His eyes observed the simmering pots on the stove behind me, but he didn’t speak.
“No formality required. You don’t have to knock.”
His response was deadpan. “I thought it’d be safer.”
At my expense, the man had cracked a joke. It took me a moment, but I started to laugh.
“Is Matt here?”
“He texted that he’s leaving the office in a few minutes.”
He put the bag down and pushed it towards me.
“Oh.” My breath hitched in my throat. I opened the bag, and the most beautiful scent wafted out. Inside was a delicate little blue ceramic pot with a perfect jasmine plant inside. I buried my face into the tiny white flowers. “I love the smell of jasmine.”
He cleared his throat and avoided my gaze.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “That’s so thoughtful.”
“Would you mind if I took a quick shower? I was working out.”
“Of course. Please make yourself at home.”
He took the stairs three at a time. All power and smooth movements. I watched as he walked along the long hallway. When he got to his room, he turned on the light and stood there, taking in my homey touches. My heart thumped in my chest. Despite his wary nature, something was driving me to make him feel welcome .
Why did I care if he was comfortable here?
I rushed around to put the final touches on the roast chicken meal. Without warning, Jackson now stood next to the island. I jerked when I saw him. Usually, I could hear Matt coming from a mile away. This guy was a Ninja. His messy hair was wet and he exuded a fresh, clean scent.
“Thanks for fixing up my room.” His eye contact was steady.
I wanted to, but I couldn’t hold his gaze. “You’re welcome. Just let me text Matt real quick and see where he’s at.”
Me: Dinner is ready
Matt: Almost done. Go ahead without me. I’ll get there asap.
I took a deep calming breath. This was fine. Matt frequently ran late, but he knew about Jackson. He’d be home for dinner.
“Matt’s running late. Let’s start. He should be here soon.”
He gave a short nod and helped me carry food to the table.
“Please sit,” I gestured to a seat.
The lone burning candle in the center of the table had felt like a festive gesture before, but now it felt like a cheap seduction ploy.
“This looks good,” he spoke.
“Would you like some wine?”
“Just water.”
“We have beer.”
Long pause. Thinking. “Water’s good.”
We sat down and I passed him dish after dish, marveling at the sheer amount of food he put on his plate.
For a few moments, we ate in silence.
“This is good.”
“Thank you.”
The silence hung heavy between us.
I racked my brain to make conversation. “So, what do you do in Virginia?”
“I'm in the navy. ”
My friend Julie was going to have a shit fit. She loved military men. “Are you a sailor?”
“Navy SEAL.”
I had an amusing vision of a group of men walking around with baby seals on their t-shirts. Maybe they specialized in marine wildlife? Or seals? Did the navy have an animal conservation group as part of their regime? Maybe they trained seals to work with them? I looked at the huge man across from me, trying to imagine him talking to a baby seal. The image was kind of cute. “What does that entail?”
“We perform combat missions in sea, air, and land.”
I blinked at the words combat mission. Another less fun vision of a seal with a bomb strapped to its slick little body crossed my mind. They did that in World War II. They used to strap bombs to dogs and send them over to the enemy to blow up their tanks, and the dogs blew up with them. Who even came up with something so cruel? I was so upset when I saw that on the history channel that I cried.
“With seals? You do combat with seals?”
A peculiar look crossed his face. “SEAL is an acronym for sea, air, and land.”
“So you don’t work with seals?” I needed confirmation. I couldn’t like this man if he hurt seals.
He stared at me for a long moment and then shook his head. His chin dropped to his chest, and I realized that he was shaking with laughter. He looked back up at me, his whole face changed as he laughed. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.”
“Sorry. I don’t like the military or anything to do with fighting. No offense.”
He smiled at me. “No offense taken.”
I cleared my throat and tried to be serious again. “Doesn’t navy meant boats and water?”
“We specialize. We’re part of the navy, but we also engage in the water, in the air, and on land.”
“You fly a plane? ”
“No. I jump out of them.”
“Oh.” I had a vision of him running and leaping out the back of a plane. The thought made my heart want to stop.
“That sounds scary.”
“It’s a rush.”
I did not understand this mentality. There were two kinds of people in this world. The ones who did all the adrenaline seeking adventures like rock climbing and sky-diving and then there was the other group of people that stood on the ground with their hands over their mouths, watching in horror. I was definitely in the second group. The less adrenaline I had rushing through my body, the better.
“How can you even make yourself jump out of a plane? Doesn’t that go against everything your mind is telling you?”
“We learn to control our responses to things like fear and pain.”
I had no idea what he meant by that. “How can anyone control their body’s response to that?”
“We’re trained to become comfortable in uncomfortable situations.”
This morning I had been so scared I had passed out. My fear had overtaken my body.
“So I guess you don’t faint when you get scared.”
“No.”
Our eyes met over the table.
“I’ve never fainted before.”
“I’ve never had anyone faint in my arms before.”
My face got hot. I was breaking records today for the number of times I could blush.
“So, what do you do?” He broke the tension between us.
I hated this question. People got so judgy about careers. It was an automatic way to size someone up. I had dreams, even if I didn’t have a big fancy career like some of my friends. Besides, I liked what I did. “I work part-time in an art gallery.”
“Are you a painter?”
Surprise rippled through me. Most people asked me which art gallery. And then they wanted to know what I did for the art gallery. Was I a curator or a collections manager? Did I do marketing and fundraising? No one ever wanted to hear that I was just an assistant. And they never asked me if I was one of the artists.
“I like to paint but just in my spare time. At the gallery, I help sell the work of real artists.”
“Did you paint the paintings in the loft?”
I felt embarrassed to admit that the art on the walls was my own. “Yes.”
“You seem like a real artist to me.”
No one since my grandma had ever called me a real artist. This man could have no idea how much his words had just impacted me. I shook my head. “No. I just do that for fun.”
Green eyes studied me.
“Would you like some more food?”
“No. I'm good.”
We finished our meal in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either.
He stood up. “I'll do the dishes.”
I stood up too, picking up my plate. “No. That’s fine.”
He took my plate from my hand. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”
“Let me put the food away.”
I carried my wine glass into the open kitchen.
Now we were both in the space behind the island. Every time I turned around, he was within touching distance. I had a distinct desire to flee and had to focus on putting the food away while he loaded the dishwasher. He filled the sink with soapy water and started to wash. He gave me a look when I picked up a tea towel.
“I know where everything goes. It’ll just be faster if I help.”
In silence, we washed and dried dishes together. I tried to think of something to talk about, but I could only focus on how big he was next to me. I was used to my routine. I didn't know how to share my space with a stranger. My shy, inner self seemed to come out in force in his presence .
He drained the sink as I put the last dish away. I handed him the dish towel so he could dry his hands.
“Thank you for dinner.” He sounded sincere, but his expression was unreadable.
“You’re welcome. I'm sorry that Matt wasn’t here.”
“Does he frequently work this late?”
I gave a little smile. “Yeah, he does. There’s no break for a junior lawyer. They try and work them to death.”
I watched as he folded the tea towel perfectly, before hanging it on the towel rack.
He didn’t respond. He redefined a man of few words. Any less talking and the guy could qualify as a selective mute.
I took a deep breath. “I’m heading up to bed to do some reading. I want to tell you that Matt will be home soon, but I think we both know that he could be a few hours yet.”
He nodded.
I started walking upstairs but looked down at him when he began to speak.
“When Matt invited me, I had no idea that he lived with you. Nor did he mention that this was your place. I thought I was just crashing at Matt’s.”
I smiled at him. “Consider yourself lucky. Matt’s bachelor pad was, in my opinion, uninhabitable at the best of times.”
I took a few more steps and stumbled. Bachelor pad. My face burned. Maybe this sailor wanted to have more space to pursue women. I stopped walking, grasping the railing tight. I turned and looked down at him, shocked that he was watching me.
I tried to find the right words. “If you…uh…have a date that goes well you can bring her home. I don’t want to cramp your style…or anything…with stuff like that.”
He stared up at me, his angular face without expression.
I blushed. An awkward pause hung between us, which galvanized me into filling the silence. “So, don’t worry about me. I would be…uh…happy for you. ”
I was so red. I got up four more steps when he spoke. “What do you think that is?”
His words stopped me in my tracks.
“What?”
“You said that you didn’t want to cramp my style. What do you think my style is?”
With my heart in my throat, I looked over the railing down at him. His gaze was so intense. What did I think his style was when it came to women? They would be beautiful, sexy and a hell of a lot more experienced than me.
“I think your style is probably sophisticated and experienced.”
Great. I sounded like a 90-year-old pensioner. I took two more steps.
“You would be surprised at what my style is,” he said, his voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.
I had no idea what he meant by that. I gave him one last wild glance before I concentrated on getting up the stairs and into my bedroom.
I stood looking around my room, unsure why I felt so caught off balance. It made no sense that I was working so hard to make this man feel so welcome when he made me feel so uncomfortable. Pressing my hands to my warm cheeks, I focused on getting ready for bed.