16. Jameson
Chapter sixteen
Jameson
After getting in a morning workout with JT at the hotel fitness center, I’m in an Uber on my way to pick Bryn up. She’s already been to work this morning, which was crazy to learn. Bryn insisted she could just meet me at the restaurant for brunch, but I was just as insistent that I pick her up after she had a chance to drop her stuff off at her hotel. Because I still believe a guy should pick a girl up for a date. And this is a date. Even if Bryn doesn’t know it yet. Even if I was adamantly opposed to dating just twenty-four hours ago. Now all I have to do is convince her to date me seriously. While keeping it appropriately casual for our first official date. Fuck.
The black car I’m in rolls to a stop in the Marriott roundabout, and I see Bryn sitting out front wearing a pair of black joggers and one of those baggy cut-off shirts that seem to be so popular these days. I’ve never really thought about how hot workout clothes could be— athleisure, as the kids are calling it these days—but damn. I really want to cuddle with her.
I can imagine it now. A cool autumn day at a cabin in the mountains, lazily sprawled out on the couch, binge-watching a show together while she snuggles up into me. I shake my head and throw open my door, hurrying around to catch Bryn before she lets herself into the other side.
“Hey!”
“Morning, Jameo. What brings you to this side of LA?” she jokes.
I pull her into a hug because…well…I want to hug her. “I’ve got a hot date I’m here to pick up.” Then, looking behind her, I say, “Have you seen Mila Kunis anywhere? I swear she said she was staying at this hotel.”
“Thank God.” Bryn whacks my arm good-naturedly. “I was worried you thought this was a date. Which would be highly out of character for the man who was a complete dick to me and then went out of his way to make it very, very clear that he was not interested in dating.”
Well, shit. I feel my shoulders slump slightly as I close her door and walk around to my side of the car. That’s true. I was a dick. And I did make it clear I wasn’t interested in dating. But, on the other hand, I’m now very interested in dating Bryn. How the hell do I explain that to her? I have no idea.
Taking a steadying breath, one I’ve worked on with my sports psychologist regularly over the years, I slide in next to Bryn. She’s staring out the window, and I sit silently next to her, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do. I can’t spend the rest of the day pretending this isn’t a date in my mind. Even if I wasn’t in a situation forcing me to make it official, I would still want this to be a date. This is the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been around her.
It’s clear she can feel it too, her shoulders climbing higher with each passing minute. Finally, she turns to look at me. “I thought you didn’t want it to be a date. That’s why I said it. You told me you weren’t looking to date. I wanted to make it clear I knew that.” She rolls her shoulders down her back, clearly unsure.
I drop my head back on the headrest before quickly pulling it forward again. I know I have to explain. “I get it.” I pause and glance into her eyes—gray today. “The problem is that I meant it when I said I wasn’t looking to date. It’s just—”
She cuts in. “I—”
“No, please, let me get this out. I wasn’t looking to date anyone. I’m pretty fucked up from a past relationship, and yeah, I don’t want to enter into the dating scene. Don’t want to do the apps, the blind dates, the awkward double dates with friends of friends.” I run my hand through my hair. “But I do want to date you. I know I joked around about Mila Kunis, and honestly, I stand by that—she’s hot. But I was actually hoping today could be a real date.” Noting her slightly confused look, I add awkwardly, “With you.”
The driver—like the saint that quiet Uber drivers are—makes a show of pulling out a pair of earbuds and putting them in. I guess this is getting too personal for him.
Bryn, on the other hand, is chuckling and has a genuine, full grin making the whole back seat of this car light up like it’s Christmastime. “Thanks for clarifying. Here I thought that whole speech was just to let me know that you’re interested in Mila Kunis if she and Kutcher ever break up,” she teases. “Hmm…so is this you officially asking me out?”
I tap my lip with my finger, pretending to ponder the question. “ Official makes it sound so…official. But, since you’re really pressuring me into things here, I guess I’ll go with the audible and say, yeah, I’m officially asking you out. Will you go on a date with me?”
“Gosh. You’re asking me out and using football terminology. It’s really throwing me for a loop here.” Her eyes are dancing.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “Will you do exactly what you planned to do with me today but call it a date?”
“And who, exactly, do you imagine I’m going to be sharing this ‘official date’ news with?” she asks.
“Well, this is where things do get a bit more complicated.” I pause, not quite sure what to say. “It’s just that, my PR team and sponsors”—I’m basically whispering now, just in case the Uber driver didn’t actually turn on their headphones—“well, they were pretty upset with me last year. I totally get it. I was in a bad spot, and I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have, including being photographed with a lot of different women. So I’ve been warned, a lot, that I can’t be seen dating casually…which I definitely should’ve thought of yesterday before we went to dinner in California of all places. I was just so excited at the thought of getting to see you, I didn’t really think about it.” I guess word vomit is a thing I’m doing now.
“So we can’t date?” she asks, her brow drawn in confusion. “I thought you wanted me to call this a date?”
“Right. I do. I definitely want to date you in a non-weird, normally paced way, where we don’t have a conversation about being official or dating seriously or anything until at least date three or four.” I take a deep breath, winded from saying so much at once. “But, I’m me. Which makes things more difficult. So, to casually date me, I kinda need you to officially date me. Like exclusive, boyfriend/girlfriend date.”
“You’re asking me to be your girlfriend?”
Why do her questions feel like a tiny jab to my gut each time? I should’ve known the casual/committed relationship was a terrible plan. JT and I most certainly cannot be trusted to handle a situation like this. I should’ve called Lila.
“Yes. But I don’t want to rush it. I want us to date like we would’ve. Just call it something more official-sounding if asked.”
“But you do want to date me? This isn’t some media thing where you need a fake girlfriend?”
“No. Basically everyone who works for me would prefer I have no girlfriend. But I want to get to know you. I’m not willing to give this up before we even get a chance to try.” I shrug. “So officially dating is the best I can do.”
She nods. “Officially dating. Noted. Will you expect me to be at all your things? I’m sure you’re super busy with tournaments and galas and whatnot, and I am swamped with work, and, even if I tried, I can’t make everything. Or really most things.”
“Nope. You’re welcome to join but not expected to at all. I don’t think I would ever expect that of my girlfriend, but definitely not my officially casual one.”
“And it’s exclusive. No dating anyone else?”
“No. Is that a problem for you?” Why am I suddenly jealous of the faceless man I’m imagining taking Bryn out for dinner? If I weren’t in this situation, I would’ve never asked her to be exclusive at this point.
She scoffs. “Definitely not. But are you sure it’s not a problem for you ?”
“Definitely not,” I parrot her answer. “I haven’t talked to another woman since I met you, and after last night, it’s literally the last thing from my mind.”
My heart double taps at the sweet pink color rising to her cheeks. “Okay. Well, as long as you understand I may not be around a lot and that my work is really important to me, I think I can make officially dating work.” She looks down at herself. “Though I wish you would’ve told me earlier. When I got back from the office, I changed three times and, after giving myself a firm talk about how I should not get dressed up for two friends hanging out, I finally decided on this. I may have actually said out loud at one point, ‘This is not a date. You do not have to wear real pants.’”
I chuckle and take the opportunity to really check her out, something I had been trying my hardest to avoid since the full-body ogle I snuck in earlier.
“Work-of-art status, I know,” she says. “I feel the messy bun really pulls together the whole twentysomething look I was going for.” She says it with confidence, but I can tell from the shift in her eyes that she’s feeling unsure of herself.
“You are gorgeous, Bryn. You looked beautiful last night, and you look even hotter today.” I slowly peruse her body one last time, not even trying to hide the lust I’m sure is in my eyes. She should know how hot I think she is.
Her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip.
“Damn, Jameo. Really coming on strong. Message received. You think I’m gorgeous. You want to date meee.” She says the last in a singsong voice, clearly quoting someone, though it’s completely lost on me. I raise my eyebrows in silent question.
“ Miss Congeniality ?” she says with an exasperated huff.
“Oh.” I scratch my beard. “The one with Sandra Bullock as the FBI agent?”
“Mmmhmm. The same movie that made it so I can’t say Texas without pronouncing it Tex-ass. It’s actually pretty good.”
“I do think I’ve seen it once, maybe with my sister. It clearly wasn’t that memorable.” Thinking about my Netflix and Chill fantasy from earlier, I add, “But I’d definitely be interested in giving it a try if you want to watch it together sometime.”
She smiles, glancing out the front windshield as the car nears our brunch spot. “Sure. That sounds like fun. I love watching movies, though it does annoy my sisters how often I quote them.”
I pause before opening my door. “So, you’re like a real fan of movies, then?”
She shakes her head noncommittally. “Eh. I’m definitely a fan, but it’s more that my brain has just decided movie quotes are important enough to remember. Most of my classes from grad school? Completely forgotten. Random line from a movie I watched once in eighth grade? Holds a prominent place in my long-term memory.”
I laugh as I open my door and climb out. Bryn slides across the seat, choosing to exit onto the sidewalk rather than braving the LA traffic whizzing by on her side of the car.
Glancing at the brunch spot a few paces away, I take note of the people milling about, drinking coffee from paper cups and playing cornhole. Kids are running around, their parents clearly too tired to even pretend this is abnormal behavior for a Saturday morning.
Bryn notes my glance and shrugs. “Saturday-morning brunch. I’ve never understood why more places don’t have reservations available. It’s like if, as a society, we’ve decided brunch is better if we have to suffer a bit before we get in.”
“Well, sure. For dinner, the masses have already suffered through a whole day of work or of chasing their offspring around the house or to various activities. Your penance has been paid. Breakfast, you’re up early, so that’s punishment enough. Brunch, though? You need to sacrifice something before you get to it. Clearly they should’ve gone with firstborns, but people get so touchy about sacrificing children these days.”
She laughs, and I smile back, enjoying the simplicity of being with someone who gets my sense of humor.
“You know,” I say, hating what’s about to come out of my mouth but knowing I need to offer it, “I could probably go throw my name around and get us in right away.”
“Nah.” She shakes her head as she moves toward the door. “I’ll put our name in. You stay incognito. Plus, I’m happy to just hang out with you while we wait.”
I smile and tug on the baseball hat I’ve been carrying in my pocket, watching her long legs disappear into the restaurant. And damn if it doesn’t make me just a little hard, something I know is inappropriate brunch talk, but, frankly, can’t be helped.