Zak
ZAK
My steps come to an abrupt halt as Jaime gets out of her car just a few feet away from me and slams the door. Eyes wide, I watch her touch her fingers to the roof of the Bentley, almost in apology, even as her entire body trembles. With her back to me, I’m not sure whether it’s with anger or sadness, but I’m pulled toward her regardless.
Even as I step closer, my lips parting to speak, I realize I have no idea what to say. She has no clue I’m even standing behind her, and I don’t want to startle her.
“Coffee?” The single word tumbles from my lips like one of my nieces spitting the vegetables out of their pasta, and I wince as she whirls round to face me.
She stares at me, her lips parted, and I realize I didn’t even say ‘hi’. There’s no point, though. Why falter through formalities when we can just get straight to the point?
Shifting my bag higher on my shoulder, I note the way her eyes are narrowed, her mouth tight. There are no tears in sight, so she’s not sad, but whoever made her this angry, I want to kick their ass.
“Want to go for a coffee?” I try again, offering a smile.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, eyeing me as though perhaps this isn’t a coincidence and I’ve upgraded my pursuit to full on stalking.
I show her the store bag I have slung over my shoulder. “I needed some new gear for lacrosse.”
Jaime continues to stare at me, and I hold my ground. I want to tell her that it’s just coffee, but I know the best plan is to stay silent. We might have known each other for years, but this tentative fledgling friendship is fragile, and I don’t want to break it before we’ve even had a chance to let it grow. Everything about her is tense, and I half expect her to get back in her car and drive off. Whatever just happened has her wound tighter than I’ve ever seen her.
She huffs out a short breath. “Now’s not a good time, .”
“It’s just a coffee,” I say, taking a step closer. “You shouldn’t drive when you’re this upset.”
“I’m not upset,” she snaps, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
It’s then, I take in her outfit. A dark red suit. Something I’ve never once seen her wear. She looks fine as fuck, the skirt showing off her incredible legs, accentuated by the shiny black Louboutin heels. And the fact that her silk blouse is buttoned to the top only makes the whole ensemble more tempting. There’s only one reason she’d be wearing a suit, and I’m guessing it didn’t go well.
“What was the interview for?”
Jaime’s eyes widen. “How . . .?”
“The suit.” I grin, dusting off a shoulder. “Just call me Sherlock.”
“You’re such a loser.”
She rolls her eyes, but I notice the tension bleed from her shoulders. “A loser who wants to buy you coffee. And if you play your cards right, Kitty Cat, I might even stretch to a muffin.”
“I’d rather have a brownie.”
My smile stretches wide. “Is that a yes?”
“Whatever.” She steps away from the car and looks up and down the street. “It just better not be someplace shitty.”
I clutch my chest in mock horror. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”
She opens her mouth to retort, but when I smile and start walking, she sighs and follows. I haven’t sent her another text since she gave me her number, even though it’s been so fucking tempting. But I don’t want to push things.
At the Bee’s party last weekend, we chatted again, but only briefly. She was busy as VP making sure that everything was running smoothly. Which it did. It was a great party. Better than ours, although I’d never tell Alex that.
“Here we go,” I say as we reach Joe For Joe, my favorite coffee spot in the city.
Pushing open the large glass doors, I step to the side to let her pass, and I definitely don’t breathe her in as she does.
Jaime stops just inside, staring at the sprawling warehouse style space. “I’ve never been in here before.”
“Hidden gem,” I say, leading the way between the green velvet sofas and chunky dark wood tables to the counter. “What do you want?”
She doesn’t even glance at the chalkboard menu above the long brass-covered counter, instead continuing to look around, taking it all in. “Oat milk vanilla latte, please.”
I watch her for a second—the way the pale sunlight catches her hair and the gentle slope of her nose—then she turns, and I snap my gaze away, focusing on the specials board instead.
“Are you going to tell me about the interview?” I ask.
“Maybe.” She hums, glancing up at me before tilting her head to peer at the open second floor above us. “I’m going to go get us a seat.”
She doesn’t wait for my response, but I don’t care because I get to watch her walk away. When the barista calls out for my attention, it’s a struggle to pull my gaze away from her perfect ass and calves.
I order, grabbing myself a sandwich, Jaime a brownie, and then a couple of other options in case she’s hungry for proper food. Because it’s quiet, the barista says they’ll bring the coffees over when they’re ready.
Jaime’s settled on one of two plush sofas on the ground floor, right by a huge arched window. The sunlight spills in, casting her in hues of gold, and my pulse skips. It always does.
She looks up as I approach, slipping her phone back into her purse, and even though I really want to sit next to her I take the seat opposite.
“I bought us some food,” I say, placing the brownie down in front of her and arranging the rest of the sandwiches and salads on the table. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a selection.”
“Thanks,” she says, not making a move to take anything, her attention settling to the sidewalk outside.
It’s fine. I’ll eat whatever she doesn’t. My metabolism needs five meals a day plus snacks. Tearing into a sandwich, I sit back and give her space. It’s hard, but I’m already playing the long game. I’ve been biding my time for three years.
Chewing thoughtfully on my ham and cheese sandwich, I partake in my favorite pastime. Trying to pinpoint what exactly it is about Jaime Smith that has me tied up in knots. Sure, she’s gorgeous and confident and clever. But it’s more than that. Sol asked me to try to explain it once on the way to a game in Seattle. I tried, but I couldn’t. The best I could come up with was: everything.
“So, you were right. I had an interview.”
I swallow, putting my sandwich down so I can give her my full attention. “Yeah? What for?”
“An internship at KBCX.” She looks away from the window and meets my gaze with a sigh. “I don’t think it went very well.”
As much as I want to assure her that it did, I bite my tongue. “What makes you think that?”
Before she can answer, the barista arrives with our coffee order, and we wait in awkward silence while she unloads the tray. When she’s gone, Jaime picks up her latte and takes a sip, her attention falling to the window once more.
“I barely got to say anything,” she says after a pause. “He didn’t ask me any questions. It was strange.”
I frown. “Maybe he didn’t need to because of your application. Perhaps he just needed to meet you in person to gauge your vibe.”
“My vibe?” she echoes with a small smile. “And what is my ‘vibe’?”
I smirk, picking up my own coffee. “Confident. Strong. Capable. Reliable.” Sexy as hell.
“Yeah, well, I get the feeling he was thinking more along the lines of entitled bitch.”
My spine straightens and I lean forward, immediately wanting to find this douche canoe and kick his ass. “What do you mean?”
“He mentioned Franklin West and that the job might be ‘tougher than I’m used to’.” She shakes her head, her long, golden-brown hair falling over her shoulder. “I assured him I’m not afraid of hard work, but I just don’t know.”
I blow out a long breath, sitting back in my seat. “Well, it’ll be his loss.”
“No. It’ll be my loss.” She puts her coffee down and presses her fingers to her temples. “I really want this, . It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
My pulse kicks up. As much as I know everything I can about Jaime Smith, it’s based on observation, Google, and scraps. The fact that I’m being given the opportunity to finally see beneath the surface sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. “What’s the end goal? I know you’re majoring in media and communications, but what’s the dream?”
She blinks at me, then laughs softly. “I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“That we don’t really know each other.”
Her words prick at my chest, but I force a smile and wink. “Well, whose fault is that?”
“ . . .”
“I’m just saying, Kitty Cat. You’ve had unlimited access to this for three years. It’s not my fault you never used your membership.”
She rolls her eyes and picks up her latte. “Anyway. In answer to your question, I want to run my own network.”
I sit back and smile. “I can totally see that.”
“Yeah, well, you might never get to.”
I quirk an eyebrow, but bite back the first response that jumps to my mouth—that her family is so freaking rich, she could start her own network. But it’s not what she wants, or needs, to hear.
She might be a lot richer than my own wealthy family, but it’s a world I understand. You could probably draw a line down the middle of Franklin West, dividing the students into those who want nothing more than to step out from their parents’ shadow, and those who want to step into their shoes and take the reins. Jaime is definitely the former. I have no doubt about it. The fact that she’s taking media and communications instead of business or economics speaks volumes for a start.
I try not to think too deeply about the fact that, in my own analogy, I have no idea which side of the line I’d be on. It’s more likely I’d be watching from Grinds, hiding behind a bagel.
“Don’t write it off just yet,” I say. “When did he say they’d let you know?”
“By the end of the week.”
“There you go, then.” I give her a small smile. “Wait until Friday to spiral. And if you do, give me a call and I’ll come spiral with you. Hell, we can even plot this jerk’s demise. I think I have a dartboard somewhere under my bed.”
She chuckles softly and my soul soars. Shaking her head, she puts down her coffee and picks up one of the sandwiches I bought. Some repressed caveman shit preens that she’s taken one of my offerings, and I try not to sit and watch her eat like a creep.
“How’s your year going so far?” she asks.
I shrug. “Same old shit, different day. Only it keeps hitting me that this is it. This time next year, there’ll be no more Den, no more lacrosse, no more Franklin West. It puts a lot of pressure on everything. You know?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “Like everything’s on a countdown timer. Guess we need to make the most of it.”
An amicable silence settles between us as we eat, and I just enjoy the fact that I’m spending time with her alone. It’s different than at parties, or when our circles occasionally overlap at events. There are so many things I want to ask, but I don’t want to risk pushing her away. She seems a lot more settled than when I ran into her by her car, and I hope that it has something to do with me. I want to be that person for her—someone she can turn to when it all gets too much.
“What are you doing after graduation?”
Jaime’s question pulls me from my thoughts, and I smile. “I’ve got a few options, but I’m not stressing.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “A few options? What about your parents?”
“What about them?”
“Surely they’ve got ideas.” She blinks, staring at me as though I’ve just revealed a third eye. “They must have opinions about your lack of direction.”
“Lack of direction?” I lean back with a chuckle. “My folks just want me to be happy. If that means I take a year to figure shit out, they’re fine with that.”
Jaime just continues to stare at me, and a lightbulb flicks on somewhere in my brain.
“Shit.” I lean forward, my voice softening. “Are your folks pushing you to make choices?”
Her gaze falls and I swear I don’t breathe as I watch her, waiting for her answer.
“Thank you for the coffee, .” She brushes off her skirt and stands, sliding the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your shopping.”
It all happens so fast, it takes my brain a second to catch up, and I leap to my feet. “Wait a second. Where are you going?”
She shakes her head, avoiding my eyes. “I need to get back to campus. I have lots of reading to catch up on ready for class tomorrow.”
My mouth hangs open, a thousand reasons for her to stay on my lips, but I swallow and nod. “Okay. Let me grab the food and I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You really don’t need to do that,” she says, trying to escape again.
I raise my eyebrows, pinning her with a look. “I’m asking for ten seconds, Kitty Cat. Please let me walk you to your car.”
Her mouth opens and closes as though she’s going to fight me, but then she sags a little and nods. Relieved, I give her a smile and scoop up the unopened sandwiches and salads and toss them in my bag along with my new gum shield and shoes. My gaze falls on her untouched brownie and my heart sinks. This was so much more than I expected, but still nowhere near enough.
When I straighten, I find Jaime looking much as she had when I first saw her slam her car door. Tense. Haunted.
“Ready?” I ask, forcing a smile a lot lighter than I’m feeling.
She nods and we head toward the exit in silence. I don’t like this one bit. Quiet, sad, Jaime doesn’t sit well with me. Whatever pressure her parents are putting on her is enough to flip a switch that dulls her sparkle, and that will never be okay with me.
The walk to her car is agonizing. I try to get her talking, but she’s completely shut down. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I admit defeat.
“Enjoy your reading,” I offer as we reach her car. “I guess I’ll see you round campus.”
She turns, a smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, . I’m happy I have a friend like you.”
My own smile tightens in response, and I watch as she buckles up and drives away without a backwards glance.
Friend .
I huff and turn, heading to where my own car is parked a couple of blocks away. The friend zone might be where I am right now, but if Jaime can count on anything, it’s that I’m not staying there a moment longer than I have to.