13. Conor
Conor
My resolve can only take so much. I’m a strong man. A man of principle (mostly). But Jess is driving every single piece of me absolutely crazy right now.
She’s agreed to work with me. Help me stage Decatur. Which means that we will be spending even more time together.
It’s practically the middle of the night, and she’s sitting on the couch beside me, dressed in weird giraffe pajamas that shouldn’t be in the least bit sexy.
But, every so often, her delicate hand dips into the popcorn bowl balanced in my lap, or her laugh fills the air in response to the stupid romantic comedy we finally settled on watching, and it’s like all logic goes flying out the window.
I can’t explain how I felt earlier when I saw her with that greaseball in the bar. I was watching them talking out of the corner of my eye, and I could sense Jess’s discomfort all the way across the room.
It took me exactly two seconds to pin the guy—I know the type perfectly.
An overgrown, frat boy dude-bro who’s nearing thirty but still acts a decade younger.
There’s always groups of them on the prowl at the bar, acting like the world is a Brazilian rodizio restaurant and women are the meats they can sample when and how they like.
Anyhow, I digress. One moment, I saw the guy with his hands on Jess’s arms. I turned for all of thirty seconds to pay the bartender for my drink, and when I glanced back, they were both gone. Nowhere to be seen.
I assumed she left with him. Which, maybe, was a little short-sighted, but man, I was already fired up at that point. Not just jealous—although the green-eyed monster was certainly stirring—but something more than that.
Concern. Proper, real concern. I saw the way she spoke with dude-bro, the way her shoulders caved in and she smiled that smile I already knew was fake as blue raspberry flavoring. She had her arms crossed—like she wanted to protect herself.
And so, even though Jess is a strong, independent woman who can make her own choices—even though she is just my roommate and she can leave with whoever she wants—I texted her. I wanted to see that she was okay.
When she didn’t reply to that text, or the next one, or answer any of my calls, I booked it. Straight home. To find her crying.
In that moment, I was ready to hunt the guy down and murder him.
I’m not an angry guy in general, and I know that violence is never the answer.
But right then? Yeah, violence seemed like the obvious solution.
I calmed down when I found out he hadn’t hurt her…
although I still have an intense desire to muss up his stupid, shellacked hair.
Being around Jess is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. She’s gorgeous, but she’s feisty and funny and, quite frankly, different from anyone I’ve ever met—which is possibly the most endearing thing about her.
My heart breaks that someone so wonderful is so vulnerable right now because of the way her ex’s best friend made her feel tonight. And, even though I know she’s strong, everything in me wants to take care of her. Make her smile. Keep her safe.
Which is exactly why I know I should keep a careful distance. She doesn’t need a guy to complicate things for her, especially after her ex. She needs a good friend. Like Aiden oh-so-kindly reminded me earlier.
But, she’s making it difficult. I can’t help but notice the way her eyes flare when she looks at me, pupils dilated, face flushed, lips parted.
So, unless she’s experiencing autonomic hyperreflexia every time she looks at me (yeah, yeah I watch a lot of House ), I’m beginning to think that the attraction between us might just be mutual.
As if reading my thoughts, Jess suddenly looks at me. “Hey, Conor?”
“Mmm?” I say, as noncommittally as I can manage.
“Thank you.”
“For what, Jess?”
She smiles tentatively. “Caring.”
I want to put my arms around her again, but I resist. “Of course I care.” If only she knew how much. “And I know you said you didn’t want to talk about what happened tonight, but I’m here if you ever change your mind.”
Jess closes her eyes, wrinkles her nose, and lets out a sigh. A sigh so loud and forceful that it sounds like it’s been locked in there for weeks. “My ex is getting engaged.”
I freeze, caught off guard. “What?”
She screws up her face and shifts slightly, laying her head on the couch’s armrest. “To Sarah. She has nice hair.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, wishing I had something more original to say. Something that was actually comforting. Maybe I could offer to rough the guy up a little? The thought gives me way too much pleasure.
“Don’t be. I know it was for the best. I really do. That guy I met tonight...”
She trails off so I pick up her words. “He made you remember all the good times with your ex?”
Jess snorts. “Yeah, no.”
I wish I didn’t feel so happy at that reaction. But, like I said, my resolve can only take so much. “What was it, then?”
She sighs. “He’s the one who told me that Johnny bought Sarah a ring. That he’s planning to propose.”
Sympathy balls in my gut. Poor Jess.
She looks at her hands and picks at a chip of pink nail polish on her thumb. When she speaks, her voice is quiet, resigned. “We were together for six years. Six. And he never wanted to commit to anything. But, he bought Sarah a ring after six weeks. So yeah. Guess I’m pretty replaceable.”
I gently set my fingers over hers and squeeze her hand. “I find that hard to believe.”
She gives me a weak smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”
I mean it, though. She’s incredible, and has no idea. And yet again, I wonder if there’s more to the Johnny story than she’s letting on.
“Jess, what you must be going through—”
“I told him I was a house flipper.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Pardon?”
“The guy I was talking to tonight—Mark. He asked why I came home and I said that I have a new career in house flipping.” Jess’s chocolate gelato eyes are wide and unblinking, like she’s confessing to a terrible crime. “I don’t know why, I panicked.”
I stare at her. “Let me get this straight. Your ex’s best friend told you that your ex was getting married and you responded by telling him… you were a house flipper?”
“Pretty much.”
I nod slowly. “So that’s why you changed your mind about the staging job.”
She bites her bottom lip, looking indescribably sad. For a moment, I think she’s going to cry again.
What I am not expecting is the snort of laughter that escapes her mouth. “How’s that for a job interview?”
I take in all her giraffe-pajamaed glory. “You’re hired.”
Jess snorts again and, before I know it, we’re both cracking up laughing. Real, deep belly laughs that feel so, so good. Tears prick at my eyes and Jess leans against me as she collapses into laughter, the sound filling the house so beautifully.
It occurs to me that I’d do anything to make Jess laugh like this.
After we finally calm down, she peeks up at me. “Tell me the truth. Is it really okay that I work with you?”
I smile as an idea forms in my mind. Something I think can actually help her. “It’s more than okay.”