17. Fun is just a three-letter word
17
FUN IS JUST A THREE-LETTER WORD
T here are many bakeries outside of this city who claim to have NYC-quality bagels. They promise the same consistency and flavor, the perfect toasty, crunchy first bite when you sink into your still-warm bread. They even go so far as to claim that you’ll feel like you’re right smack in the middle of the City.
They’ll say a lot of things—just like people. But let me tell you something right here, right now about these places and brands: they’re lying to you. Because no bagel will ever taste as good as the one from your local bodega or deli in New York. No bakery outside of the five boroughs will ever be able to deliver quite the same quality or taste. And while there are a million different types of bagel combinations, your order will never fail while you’re here. True New Yorkers know it takes one single hot bagel with the perfect filling to make your shitty day turn around. And yet, not even the extra-toasted poppy seed bagel with a thick layer of scallion cream cheese and slices of extra-crispy bacon from my favorite people at the deli can save my mood this gloomy Saturday morning.
I try. Oh, do I try. Because Will’s the one who bought me this bagel (and coffee) and suggested we walk around the neighborhood as we talk. Because I don’t want him to see how upset I am after the incredible night we shared. Because, even though I’d love for us to be together, I’d rather not risk losing him. I’d rather pine away, so long as we get to share the same orbit. So I endure the pain and nod when he suggests he get me my favorite order “To clear the air and get the awkwardness out of the way,” he said.
But as we wander aimlessly around the city, munching away, I begin to doubt his plan. His phone keeps going off, but Will never responds—though he can’t seem to ignore it, either. Which obviously makes me obsess over who the hell is texting him so much. Makes me paranoid he’ll use it as an excuse to get away. Also, it reminds me of how quick he’s been to reply to my messages. A few weeks ago, I started to wonder whether it was because of me. Whether it was because he was as excited to talk to me as I was to him and that’s why he always had his phone on hand. Now, I mostly feel like an idiot because it could’ve just been that he’s one of those people addicted to his phone.
This isn’t me. I’m not like this. I am not this person at all. I’m not one to sulk and pout and wish things were different. I’m one to accept, find the positive, and move on. And yet, I feel like this one’s gonna take more than what it did when I found out everything my ex ever did to me.
“Is the bagel good?” he asks as we take a seat on a bench.
“Sure,” I say around a huge bite. I chew quickly and swallow before speaking. “Thanks again. I had, like, no food in my apartment.”
Will grins and takes a sip of his coffee. “No problem. I was starving and figured you’d like a good bagel. You mentioned this was your favorite place, right?”
He’s so sweet. He’s so sweet and— fuck —I think I may be mere millimeters away from falling for him— crashing, really. Crashing in love. Definitely a more accurate description of what’s going on.
This is such a dangerous game.
“Yeah.” I smile and nod, stuffing my face with an even bigger bite of my bagel to stop myself from saying something stupid. From asking the wrong questions. Why don’t you like me? We would be so good together. We would be more than the incredible sex we had last night.
Will’s phone vibrates again, but this time it doesn’t stop. He groans when he pulls it out, and looks at the screen.
“Everything okay? You need to get that?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nah. Just… I think I have to head back to the office soon.”
“Are you serious? It’s a Saturday!”
He heaves a heavy sigh. “I know, but I still have a ton of work to do. I left work early yesterday and…”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you away from anything important.”
“What? No, don’t be sorry. You’re important. What you were going through was more important. I wanted to be there for you. Want to. I knew what I was doing. I just have to pay the consequences for it now.” He scratches the back of his head as he reads through his messages. “I’m sorry, it’s just if I don’t answer now, it will never stop.”
“Your boss?” Which seems like an obvious question.
Will looks me straight in the eye and a beat passes before he nods. “Yeah. He’s being extra demanding lately.”
He proceeds to unlock the phone and type furiously for a couple of minutes. In the meantime, I do my silver lining recalibration. I look around the neighborhood, try to find things to appreciate. And while the sun is out for the first time in a while, the cold seems to bite at my skin even harder than usual. Though I usually love to people-watch and appreciate the melting pot that is this city, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the crowds. It’s like I’ve lost my positivity superpower, and I’m being sucked in by the harsh realities I possibly refused to accept or acknowledge.
I don’t like this.
With a groan, he sits back and looks up at the sky. He pockets his phone and says nothing.
“At the risk of stating the obvious, you seem stressed,” I tell him.
This makes him laugh once, a little more light finally coming back into his eyes. “You could say that.” He nods. Sighs. “My job…”
I study his expression for a moment, taking in the clear exhaustion in his eyes that goes way deeper than the late night we spent together having sex. It goes beyond a bad week at work—even a bad month. Whenever we talk about work he looks… bone tired. Depleted, almost.“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“Huh? Doing what?”
“This job. You hate it. Why are you still here? You’re smart and charismatic. I feel like you could charm the most difficult person in the world to hand you the keys to their entire empire in a heartbeat. You seem like the kind of guy who could do anything he wants. Instead, you’re doing something you very clearly hate. Even in this economy, you’re a star candidate. Why not find something else in a different industry? Or have you already been looking? This obviously isn’t something you want to do forever, is it?”
He presses his lips together and looks away. I feel like a total idiot.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to pry or cross any boundaries. Too many personal questions.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s you, Bridget. Anyone else, I wouldn’t be down to talk about this.”
Something about that—something about the It’s you of it all really does it for me. So much so, I almost melt—even in the thirty-degree weather.
“I really don’t want to be in the fashion industry in any sort of capacity, if I’m being honest. I think that’s obvious. This job was born out of pure necessity, though. Or desperation, more like it. And I made a commitment I need to see through, so there’s no way I can just…” He sighs. “I have a lot riding on this job right now.”
“You hate it.”
He stares into my eyes, before whispering. “Yes. Very much so. But not necessarily because of what the job entails. But more what it represents. And more recently, I’ve grown to resent it for other reasons.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Are we speaking in riddles now?
“It just means that… In a nutshell, it’s not what I want to be doing, nor is it with people I want to be surrounded by. Not at all. And sure, I’m good at my job, I guess. I mean, I recently got a promotion, right before meeting you. So there’s that. But, to be honest, it doesn’t mean shit to me. None of it does when it has no meaning.”
“So if not this job, then what? I think the whole ‘someone handing over the keys to their empire to you’ thing is a realistic expectation.” I try to cheer him up with a smile, and it almost works. His lips quirk up a bit at my confidence in his abilities. “You’re smart and capable enough to find something that will work for you.”
Honestly, who wouldn’t find this man absolutely charming? Sure, his looks are something out of Hollywood, but his personality is unmatched, his heart is one of a kind, and his mind is a never-ending source of fascination for me.
Will stares quietly at a flock of pigeons fighting over some leftover crumbs a few feet away from us. I don’t think I’ve asked him a particularly difficult question, but it takes him a moment to answer.
When he does, it’s after heaving a very big sigh: “I don’t think it’s that, exactly. I don’t think I feel like I’ve suddenly been put into this box I’ll never be able to get out of, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then what do you mean? Why does Will Jacobs feel trapped when it looks like, from the outside, the world is his oyster? Besides this big commitment you said you made, I mean. What did you do before this job?”
He sighs once again and reaches out to grab one of my hands in both of his before meeting my gaze. I feel a warm liquid spread through my veins. Sinking slightly in my seat at his delicious touch, I say a mental prayer to the universe that he never lets go.
“I… I used to be a teacher. Math. High school AP.”
I gasp quietly because what? Will Jacobs dressed in full teacher mode, shaping the young minds of the world? It might be even hotter than any other version of Will Jacobs I’ve met or spoken to to date.
Maybe . There’s just so much to choose from, really.
With great effort, I hide my sudden and very unexpected need to throw myself at him (even if we are in public) and take a sip of what’s left of my hot coffee.
“I… wasn’t expecting that.”
A corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “What were you expecting from my past life?”
“I… don’t know. Stripper, maybe? You’ve certainly got the body.”
A loud guffaw bursts through him, and you can almost physically see the tension leave his body as he laughs. He threads the fingers of his hand through mine and I stop breathing. What the hell is this? Do friends do this? God , I should’ve never slept with him. My mind is a mess.
“A stripper? Nah. Don’t have the coordination.”
You certainly seemed to have fantastic coordination last night , I almost say.
“Did being a teacher make you happy?” I ask, trying my best to control my breathing before it turns absolutely erratic. My reaction to this innocent touch is almost out of a Victorian era novel, as if it were the most scandalous thing to happen in the ton.
He frowns, completely unaware of the internal battle going on inside me. “Not particularly, no. Is that awful of me to say? That I didn’t enjoy it?”
“Why would it be?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Isn’t everyone supposed to find working with kids fulfilling or something? Does it make me a horrible person that I just… fell into it? Like… I like kids in general. Really want to have one with the right woman one day.” His eyes flash up to my face, cheeks red. “But teaching high school kids was a nightmare.”
I snort because I can imagine. We were all teenagers once.
In an effort to comfort him, I squeeze his hand. “I think it makes you human. And it’s okay if you didn’t find one of the hardest professions in the world—because teaching is absolutely one of the hardest and most thankless jobs out there—fulfilling.”
“Yeah. I don’t know. I just have a few things to figure out.”
“Don’t we all,” I say with a laugh.
Will’s smile is soft, his words firm. “You’re perfect, though. Passionate about work and life and your hobbies and your cat.” I grin at his mention of Ginger. “Who is already halfway in love with me, by the way.” Like me . Pretty sure I’m already halfway in love with you.
I laugh as I hide my pain, basking in his complements.
“How do you do that, Bridge? How do you keep going when things seem impossible?” His expression shifts to something more serious. His tone taking a turn.
I don’t like it.
“I told you. Always look on the bright side. The silver lining. Or things can get really dark, really fast.”
This makes Will laugh. “Your silver lining.”
“Yes, indeed,” I say with a grin, taking advantage of this brief, light moment to pull my hand from his. Any longer, and I’d grow even more attached to how comfortable, how natural, it all feels.
Will looks down at his now empty hands, though, and I don’t miss the way he fists them a couple of times before slipping them into his coat pocket.
“Anyway, of course there are many silver linings. I know I’m blessed. Just…”
“It’s a lot of stress,” I say, keeping my voice as soft as possible. Because it’s okay for Will to be upset or unhappy even if he has other things going for him.
“Yeah. And it’s particularly frustrating because the gym is normally my way of de-stressing, but it just isn’t working lately.” Will sighs and runs a hand through his fingers.
I wince. “Gross. I don’t know how you gym people enjoy the pain of working out.”
He laughs again, relaxing even more. “Hey, I need the endorphins. I don’t understand why people don’t like getting a natural high.” I give him a look and he smiles. “What do you do to relax then?” He takes a big bite of his bagel, grinning around it.
I snort. “Nah-uh. I’m not telling you. It’s embarrassing.” My cheeks flush red, the heat of my skin contrasting against the cold gusts of air around us.
“What? How is it embarrassing? Unless it’s something super nerdy like Star Trek model painting or something, I don’t see how it can be bad.”
“That’s not my hobby, but I don’t think that one is embarrassing! Trekkies are people, too.”
He laughs and shakes his head before taking a final bite of his bagel. Something about my answer pleases him.“You’re right. They are. Sorry. But if it’s not model painting, what is it?”
I sigh and wrap the remaining half of my bagel in the wax paper it came in, dump it in my purse for later. “It’s ridiculous. But… I watch cookie decorating videos.” I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. “Hours and hours of cookie decorating videos on socials. That’s what I do to unwind.”
He frowns. “Like… baking and sprinkles and shit?”
“Not sprinkles . I mean, yes, sometimes they use sprinkles. But I mean like the super professional ones. With the special icing? Royal icing, it’s called. Something about the lines and the flooding make it so satisfying to watch. How they get the most incredible details right. That and cake decorating also helps. The way the bakers will smooth the buttercream over a cake with such ease relaxes me. Also, the insane way they can make ruffles with an icing pipe. I’m really into vintage style cakes lately.”
Will sputters a laugh, turning in his seat. He leans an arm on the backrest of the bench to look me square in the eye. “Cookie and cake decorating? That’s the best way to get you to relax?” I nod proudly. “You ever thought about doing it yourself instead of watching videos?”
“ God no. Mastering that looks like it would add stress to my life, not relax me. No thanks. I don’t want to know how the sausage is made.”
His grin is beautiful and sweet, and even though he’s laughing I know it’s not because he thinks it’s dumb.
“You know, it’s funny,” he says. “Sometimes, I’ll think that after speaking to you so often I already know everything about you. Like, even though it’s only been just under two months since we’ve met, it feels like we’ve known each other forever. But then I’ll learn something new about you and just…” He shakes his head, as if in awe of me and my weird obsession. “I like it. I hope this never goes away. I like the familiarity, feeling like I know you and you know me. But I also like learning new things about you.”
I smirk at him, but inside, my heart is running wild. Breaking and getting put back together by the same words. How is that even possible?
“I hope it doesn’t go away, either. I guess we still have a lot to learn about each other. Even though it feels like we’ve known each other for a while.”
He reaches out and pushes a strand of hair from my face, his smile slipping into a softer one. Eyes shifting, he gives me that same look he did at the pub while we were dancing. The one I so clearly misread.
“I’m glad we finally decided to meet in person, even though the circumstances sucked. It’s fucked up because of everything that happened with your work, but I actually had a ton of fun last night. And this morning.”
Fun. Fun fun fun fun.
I’ve never hated a word more.
“I had fun, too.”
This is our new normal.