Chapter Sixteen
Jack
T his is a moment when I am so grateful for Aggie’s generosity. Camping doesn’t leave a lot of room for serious personal hygiene. And tonight is one night I really want to look and smell good. But it’s a little awkward to get ready for a date with Aggie’s niece in her house.
But she’s cool.
“Go on in,” Aggie says when I knock on the front door and step inside.
“Thanks, Aggie.”
“You’re welcome. Fresh towels are hanging in there.”
I head to the bathroom. Aggie’s house always feels warm, lived-in, like it’s been a home for a long time. I strip off my work clothes, tossing them into a pile by the door, and step into the shower. The water is hot, almost scalding, but it feels good against my sore muscles. I scrub away the sawdust and sweat, lathering up with Aggie’s fancy soap that smells like cedarwood and something else I can’t quite place.
When I step out, I feel like a new man. I towel off quickly, running my hand through my damp hair. I grab my bag and pull out a dark gray button-up that doesn’t look too wrinkled. I pair it with my least stained pair of jeans and call it good. The mirror reflects a version of me that looks almost put-together, if not slightly nervous.
I step out of the bathroom to find Aggie in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. She gives me a once-over and nods approvingly.
“Looking sharp,” she says with a wink. “Don’t mess this up.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I’ll do my best.”
She chuckles and waves me off. “Go on, get out of here before you start overthinking it.”
She hands me a slip of paper. “I made reservations at Bella Sera. It’s twenty minutes west—nice place, but not stuffy.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“Please.” She waves me off. “I haven’t had this much entertainment since Mrs. Johnson’s prize rooster got loose at the county fair.”
I pocket the reservation slip. “Any last-minute advice?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. And for God’s sake, let her order first. And for extra brownie points, open the door for her.”
For a moment, I feel sadness. Not sad, but mournful. Aggie is telling me what my mom should have. The feeling passes and it’s replaced with thankfulness.
“Thank you, Aggie.”
“Treat her right,” she says. “She can be a handful, but she’s worth it.”
I follow the dirt road that leads to Jinnie’s house. I smile when I pull up. It’s small. Looks like one of our sheds back home. There are flowers in front and a tiny deck with a little table and two chairs. It’s cute. And very her.
She steps out wearing a pair of blue capris and a pretty blouse. She’s got on heels that make her legs look impossibly long.
“Hi,” I say.
Her hair’s down in loose waves, and she’s wearing makeup.
“You clean up nice,” she says, eyeing me up and down.
I swallow. “You’re...yeah.” Smooth, Jack. Real smooth. I clear my throat. “Beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She grins and grabs a small purse. “Ready?”
Turns out, heels and rural properties don’t mix. The steppingstones from her tiny house to the driveway are spaced just far enough apart to be awkward.
Jinnie pauses at the first gap, frowning. “I may have miscalculated.”
“I could carry you.”
She snorts. “Not a chance.”
With a determined breath, she launches herself across. Her landing wobbles, and I catch her elbow to steady her.
“This is ridiculous.” She laughs, gripping my arm.
“Never worn heels before?”
“Owned them for three years. Worn them twice.” She eyes the next gap. “This was a terrible idea. I don’t look very graceful right now, do I?”
“You look perfect,” I say.
We make it to the truck in a series of ungainly leaps and near-misses, both of us laughing like idiots by the end. Jinnie collapses into the passenger seat with a dramatic sigh.
“And this is why I never wear these.”
“I like them,” I tell her. “A lot.”
“Thanks. I guess I’ve ruined the idea I wear this kind of thing all the time.”
“I like this, but I also think you look just fine in your work clothes.”
“Thank you.”
“So, I wish I could say I planned a great dinner, but that’s not true. Your aunt made reservations for us at a place called Bella Sera.”
Her head whips around. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Is that bad?”
“No, not at all, but I thought you said not fancy.”
I shrug. “If it’s a good restaurant then I’m good with it.”
“Are you sure? It’s kind of expensive.”
“I made some killer tips last night,” I tell her as I drive down the road. “I played our song.”
“ Our song?”
“The one you helped me iron out. It was a huge hit. The crowd went crazy.”
“Awesome,” she says. “I wish I could have seen it.”
“Me too. Aggie said people came from out of town to see me.”
“Look at you,” she says with a laugh. “Total rockstar.”
“Not yet, but maybe one day.”
She gives me directions to the restaurant. I’m relieved when I see it’s not super fancy. It’s a cross between a Chipotle and fine dining.
We walk inside and it’s pretty apparent reservations aren’t actually needed.
That’s even better.
It smells like garlic and fresh bread. Italian . I love Italian. The hostess leads us to a corner booth with a flickering candle between us. I like Italian, but it’s not the best to have garlic on a first date. Maybe I could find something that doesn’t have garlic or onion in it.
We sit down and order Cokes before the waitress walks away.
The menu is overwhelming. Half the dishes have names I can’t pronounce. This isn’t like Gino’s with the basics; pizza, spaghetti, and lasagna.
Jinnie peers over the top of her menu. “Never had Italian before?”
“Not like this.”
She smiles. “Try the gnocchi. It’s life-changing.”
Our waiter appears—a guy with an impressive mustache who introduces himself as Marco and recommends the “special” in a voice that implies we’d be fools to order anything else.
Jinnie goes with the gnocchi. I chicken out and get spaghetti. I don’t want to risk an upset stomach on our first date. Marco returns with a basket of bread and disappears once again.
“So, tell me more about the song debut,” Jinnie says. She reaches for a breadstick and takes a bite.
“It was wild,” I say, leaning forward a little. “The crowd just...they went nuts. I mean, I’ve had good nights before, but this was different. They were so into it. Stomping their feet, clapping along. Even the guys at the back who usually just stand there with their beers were nodding their heads. It was like the whole room was alive, you know?”
Jinnie’s eyes sparkle as she listens, her breadstick forgotten in her hand. “That’s amazing, Jack. I knew it would be a hit. There’s something about that song—it’s got this raw energy to it.”
“It does,” I agree, my voice softer now. “And I owe a lot of that to you. You really helped me shape it into something special.”
She ducks her head, a faint blush covering her cheeks. “I just gave you a few suggestions. You’re the one who made it come alive.”
“Maybe,” I say, smiling. “But you saw something in it that I didn’t. You pushed me to make it better.”
She looks up at me. “Well, I’m glad I could help. And I’m so proud of you, Jack. You’re really making something of yourself here.”
Her words affect me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. For so long, it felt like I was chasing this dream in a vacuum, with no one back home truly believing in me. Yeah, people would say nice things, but it never felt like they meant it.
“I’m working on another one,” I tell her. “It’s in its infancy. More like just a few chords, but I’m going to keep working. Maybe once I have a bit more, you can help me out again.”
“I’d love that.” She grins. “Just don’t forget the little people when you make it big. I want to be able to say I knew you at the beginning.”
“I’ll never forget you or Aggie.”
Her laugh is cut short when Marco appears with our orders. The plates are enormous. Mine is a mountain of pasta that could feed a small family. Her plate is just as big.
Jinnie’s eyes go wide. “Oh. That’s more than I expected.”
Marco beams. “Our famous family portion!”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Jinnie stares at the food with a look of fear in her eyes.
“We can take leftovers home,” I offer.
“For Aggie,” she agrees quickly. “And half of town.”
We both start laughing, maybe a little too loud, considering the looks from nearby tables. Jinnie tries to compose herself, but every time she looks at the plate, she snorts.
Somehow, that’s the moment I realize I’m in trouble. Because laughing with her feels as natural as playing guitar, as easy as breathing. I know I’m only eighteen, but I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl like this. Usually, I’m awkward and trying to figure out what to do when the night ends. I’m not a player. Never have been. I’m not a virgin, but I don’t take a girl to dinner with the sole purpose of getting in her pants.
We talk through dinner, like actual talk. She tells me a bit about her goal of becoming a social media guru. It’s not my thing, but I can see why people need someone like her. I have an Instagram account, but I forgot the password a long time ago. Where I come from, people aren’t big on the social media thing.
I pay the bill and remember what Aggie said about opening the door for her.
She smiles. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
The drive back is quiet, comfortable. Jinnie kicks off her heels again.
“Radio doesn’t work,” I say nervously. “I can get stations in sometimes.”
“I’m good. I like the quiet.”
We pull up to her tiny house too soon. The lights are off except for the porch, where a single bulb attracts moths in lazy circles.
I kill the engine. Neither of us moves.
“You know, for a farm boy, you’re not terrible company.”
“High praise from a baker.”
She smiles. I can’t help myself. I lean in.
Jinnie meets me halfway.
Her lips are soft, tasting like the tiramisu we finished our dinner with. I hesitate for just a second, unsure, but then she leans in to me, and all my doubts melt away. Her hand finds the side of my face. I kiss her deeper, my hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer. She tastes sweet. My heart is pounding so loud I’m sure she can hear it, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts in her seat, turning toward me, her other hand sliding up my arm to rest on my shoulder.
Her breath hitches when I brush my tongue against her bottom lip. She opens for me without hesitation. I can’t get enough. My fingers tighten on her waist as I kiss her harder, deeper, losing myself in the feel of her. She lets out a small sound, something between a sigh and a moan. My body immediately reacts.
Her hands slide into my hair now tugging slightly, just enough to make me gasp against her mouth. It’s messy and perfect.
Then suddenly she’s pulling away, breath quick. “I should—”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “Yeah, of course.”
She grabs her shoes and leftover pasta, fumbling with the door handle. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Jinnie—”
But she’s already halfway to her door, moving fast. The tiny house door opens and shuts before I can process what just happened.
I sit there for a few seconds, staring at the closed door, the taste of her still on my lips.
One minute we’re laughing, kissing, connected. The next—
Gone.
The porch light flickers off. My signal to leave.