Chapter 26
CARMEN
“Itold you that this wasn’t a date.”
Jamie’s grinning face looks entirely unchastised.
“What? Just because I brought flowers, that seems date-y to you?”
The coyness in his voice and the way he’s playing up his boyish naivete have me biting back a twitch in my lips.
“Yes.” I fold my arms.
His grin notches higher. “That’s a little outdated, don’t you think?
I give flowers to plenty of people who I’m not dating.
I brought Sebastian flowers when we met for lunch the other day because I passed a bouquet in front of the flower shop that reminded me of his eyes.
Flowers don’t necessarily mean romance.”
“Or you have a crush on Sebastian that you’re in intense self-denial over,” I reply, finding it increasingly challenging to keep my smile at bay.
Jamie cocks his head with a thoughtful expression. “Dang, I never thought of it that way.”
“If you want, we could always postpone our … plans for later, while you work out some personal questions.”
He steps past the threshold of my door, and my tiny apartment fills with electricity as his green eyes grow a shade darker. “No need.”
His voice is a low, direct rasp that has me swallowing hard past a clogged throat.
Just more of that classic Jamie whiplash I’ve come to know. Timid virgin one minute, panty-meltingly provocative the next.
“I know exactly what I want to do later tonight, and I know exactly who I want to do it with.” Another step closer, annihilating the space between us. The breath I pull in is suffused with his woodsy, masculine flavor. “And it’s definitely not Sebastian.”
My brain is momentarily discombobulated by the sudden weight of his gaze, the sudden smolder in his voice. “Oh … that’s good,” I blurt out.
His grin turns cocky and self-satisfied. “I’m glad you think so.”
Jamie walks past me to set the flowers he brought on the counter of my kitchenette. When he turns around, his cheeks are colored in a way that tells me the pendulum of his demeanor has swung in the other direction.
“I, uh, brought you something else, too,” he says, some of his bashfulness returning.
“What?”
He reaches into a bag he’s carrying and pulls out a package of tea.
“I ordered this online a little while ago, and it just arrived. It’s tea. It’s supposed to be the best kind to help you fall asleep. If you’re having trouble with it. I researched it.”
A tender feeling splits behind my chest.
Pink flush crawls up his wide neck. “I read a bunch of reviews and Reddit threads and stuff. I wanted to find something that’s actually helpful. I mean, I know you might have tried this already, but …”
I take the package from his hand and examine it. I haven’t tried this. Honestly, my sleeping troubles have been so chronic that I stopped really trying to find things to help years ago. I’ve just accepted it for what it is.
I can’t say I’m optimistic that this will be a silver bullet after all these years. But I can say I’m touched that Jamie cared enough to do research on his own time and buy something for me.
I’ve had unusually good sleep for the last couple nights, thanks to the relief of finishing my chapter. But I know I can’t expect that for long. The next sleepless night is probably right around the corner, and I won’t have anything to lose by giving this tea a try.
“Thank you,” I say. The softness in my voice almost catches me off guard.
The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red.
“I’ve been in the mood for bowling recently,” Jamie says, changing the topic. “We could bowl a couple rounds and hang out for a bit before … coming back.”
Bowling? That’s, like, the most date-y thing possible. Who bowls except on a date?
This would be the perfect opportunity to shut him down. Make it clear that him blurring the lines of this arrangement isn’t going to work on me.
But bowling does sound kind of fun …
I eye Jamie warily outside the bowling alley. “Cut it out.”
“What ever do you mean?”
“You’re holding the door for me.”
“And?”
“You literally ran past me while I was reaching for it so you could hold it open for me.”
He smiles mischievously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was walking at a perfectly natural pace. And I hold the door open for everyone. Doesn’t mean anything.”
I compress my lips. Jamie’s incessant courtesy and impeccable manners really do serve as plausible deniability for borderline romantic gestures.
I side-eye him as I walk past. Triumph glimmers in his eyes as he holds the door wide open. Plausibly deniable triumph.
On our way to the counter to rent shoes, I can’t believe who I spot walking out.
“Kazu! You bowl?” My aunt’s stoic boyfriend stands by her side, looking very conspicuous in a place that’s all about fun and games.
Kazu’s expression is as flat as the smooth surface of the bowling lane. “I am … not good.”
“But he tries,” Cindy says, beaming from ear to ear. She steps closer to Kazu and runs her hand across his chest. His shoulders stiffen.
“We should compete sometime,” Jamie says. “Two-on-two. What about you and Carmen versus me and Kazu?”
Kazu looks at Jamie, like he’s noticing him for the first time. The perpetual half-frown on his face turns to a full one as his lips curve low. His gaze turns serious and assessing as it elevators up and down Jamie’s frame. There’s a peculiar look brightening his eyes … protectiveness?
A noncommittal hum is all Kazu answers with. His eyes continue to bore through Jamie like they’re X-rays.
“Oh, my!” Cindy exclaims. “Is this a date we’re stumbling across?”
“No,” I answer sharply enough to cut the legs out from under Cindy’s excitement. “We’re just hanging out.”
“As friends. Very good friends.” Jamie’s voice is full of irony.
I feel my brow crinkle. “Casual acquaintances.”
Cindy blinks twice before a peal of laughter rushes from her. “Whatever you crazy kids say. Come on, dear, let’s leave these two friends to their very platonic bowling non-date.”
If my aunt hadn’t done so much for me, I’d be tempted to put something into the next drink I make for her at the café.
Kazu’s still staring a hole through Jamie when Cindy tugs at his arm. They walk past us to the exit.
Jamie turns to me. “Is it just me, or was Kazu looking at me like he wanted to practice his knife skills on a living specimen for a change?”
I huff a small laugh. “Who knows what Kazu’s thinking?”
Jamie shrugs. “Not too hard to figure this one out. He’s protective of you.”
I roll my eyes. “No need for anyone to get protective over a simple bowling da—hang out.” I cringe at myself for the word I almost used.
Jamie smirks. “Uh-huh.”
I close the door on this conversation by walking up to get my shoes. A couple of minutes later, we’ve been assigned our lane, entered ourselves into the scoring system, and selected our balls.
“When’s the last time you’ve been bowling?” I ask.
“Ages ago. You’ll probably wipe the floor with me.”
“You better not let me win.”
“Carmen, you’re not the kind of girl anyone needs to let win at anything.”
My heart patters too noticeably at what’s clearly nothing more than a bit of empty smooth-talking.
I go first … and send my ball directly into the gutter. My mouth twists, and my competitive side reminds me it’s still there with a pinch of displeasure.
“We should play pool next time. I’m actually good at that.”
Jamie’s green eyes sparkle. “Oh, yeah?”
“Unless you’re afraid to lose.”
“We lost spectacularly this weekend, and if things on the team stay the way they are, we’ll all be getting used to it.” He sighs. “But forget that. Tell me more about your pool skills.”
I tilt a shoulder. “I’ve always had a knack for geometry and physics, I guess. Plus, there’s just something about striking balls really hard with a stick. Maybe I find it so satisfying because I realize it’s what men deserve.”
Jamie grimaces. “Ouch.”
My second roll is better. By better, I mean I knock over two pins.
Jamie draws himself up and stretches like he’s getting ready for an athletic feat.
“Remember,” I say as he slides his fingers into his ball, “don’t play badly just to let me win. I’ll notice.”
He grins. “In that case …”
In a fluid motion, he turns to the lane and gracefully releases the ball … it hits the pins head-on, and he bowls an instant strike.
My jaw drops. Jamie turns to me with wide eyes, and a beat later erupts in laughter. “I really didn’t think that would happen,” he says.
My competitive side pinches harder.
“I guess it’s actually a lot like hockey. You’re trying to accurately slide an object over a smooth surface. Like a puck.”
“Uh-huh,” I grouse.
Jamie’s grin taunts me. “You told me not to let you win.”
“And I meant it,” I say, brushing past him with determination.
For all my bravado, two rolls leave me with a total of four pins knocked over. Jamie follows it up by bowling a spare.
Jamie’s right. This is a little too much like hockey. He’s got a competitive advantage. I’m not going to beat him by playing fair.
No problem.
The next time Jamie lines up in front of the lane to take his roll, I call out, “Wait.”
He does, and I position myself in front of the empty lane next to ours, facing him. “I need some pointers. I’m going to watch your roll.”
Did I mention that before I did so, I took my sweater off?
It’s awfully warm in here, after all. Perfect temperature for the tiny shirt I have on underneath.
The shirt that hugs my chest and rides up above my belly button when I place my hands on my hips and straighten my back to get a good view of Jamie’s posture.
Jamie’s sharp Adam’s apple pops on what I’m pretty sure is a dry swallow. He tries to focus on the lane in front of him, but his eyes keep pulling in my direction. His form is a lot less graceful this time. He releases his ball directly into the gutter.
I frown. “Hm. That’s unfortunate.”
He narrows his eyelids at me. “You know what you’re doing.”
I put on an innocent face. “Just trying to learn proper bowling posture from a natural.”
The same trick works just as well the second time. From a strike followed by a spare, Jamie rolls two gutter balls in a row.
I pick up my ball, hoping to take advantage and catch up with him. But when I step up to take my roll, my breath hitches as I’m suddenly surrounded by Jamie’s body.
“Here,” he says into my ear, the heat of his breath brushing against my cheek. “Maybe a hands-on demonstration will be better than watching.”
“You want your stance … like this.” Heat snakes through me as Jamie plants his hand on the curve of my hip and guides my legs into position. Adrenaline shoots into my heart at the feeling of him manipulating my body. Suddenly, I find it very, very difficult to care about bowling.
I turn to him. Our bodies would be flush if I weren’t holding onto this damn bowling ball. My core throbs at the memory of his hand working me to blissful release. An impatient clench tightens between my thighs.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask.
The glimmer in his eyes is devilish. “I just might be. Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re thinking, and we’ll find out.”
“I was thinking that we could continue this game some other time.”
Jamie’s brows bounce, and he nods. “Not exactly what I was thinking. But agreeable to it.”
“What exactly were you thinking, then?”
Jamie takes the ball from me. With his long wingspan, he’s able to set it back on the ball dispenser without stepping away. Instead, he takes one step closer so that our chests press together. Electricity crackles through me when he dips to rasp into my ear.
“I was thinking that I really need to find out what you taste like. Right now.”