21. Willow
WILLOW
The steam follows me out of the bathroom, clinging around my ankles, begging me to come back inside. To give in and drown myself in the hot water and silence.
“You’re home early.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Jenna. What’re you doing in here?” I nearly drop my towel from around my body, and the one wrapped around my hair tilts, pulling the mass to the side of my head.
“Well, it’s one a.m., and I told you to stay out until three. So, I’m just curious about how the date went and why you’re home already.”
She’s sitting cross-legged on my bed with her back against my headboard. Her obsidian hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and a T-shirt three sizes too big hangs off her body, draped over her legs. Even sleep-deprived with smudged makeup, this woman is stunning.
“We just decided to call it for the night. I knew you were worried and…”
“Whoa! Hell no. You did not just use me as an escape route,” she snaps, sitting up on her knees. “Give me your phone right now!”
“I didn’t. I just saw you were blowing up my phone, and I didn’t want you staying up all night worrying. Plus, it was late.”
“It was a little after midnight when you strolled in here, Missy. Now tell me what happened.”
I flop onto the bed on my back, clutching the towel around my chest so I can hold on to some shred of dignity. My stomach is tight, and I can feel my heart beating in my skull.
“We went to dinner at The World’s End Burger Bar and played Sequence.”
“Is that a sex game or like truth or dare?” she asks, and even with my eyes closed, I can imagine the fucking smirk on her face.
“It’s that card game I used to play with my grandparents. I told you about it.”
“I’m confused. You went to the bar, then back to his place to play?”
“No. The restaurant has board games. We’ll have to go some night. You’d love it there. They have a burger with pulled pork and mac-n-cheese.”
“Well, fuck me. Is it still open right now? I could really go for…”
“Jenna,” I growl.
“Sorry. Please continue, your highness.”
“Anyways. Dinner was perfect. He was perfect. He told me about his childhood, and I told him a little bit about growing up in Texas. After we left, we went to an arcade and played games.”
“Aww. That sounds like a great night.”
“It was.” My voice trails off as I open my eyes and sit up on the bed.
“But?” she asks as she scoots over to sit next to me.
“But I ruined it. I got scared.”
“Of him? Cause if he hurt you, I’ll fucking kill him. He may be a lawyer, but I listen to serial killer diary entries on Spotify, and I have connections.”
“No. Well, sort of. Not really about him, but how he made me feel. You know that I’ve never felt like I could just be myself with a guy. I’m always second-guessing everything I do and say. He didn’t let me do that. He kept me out of my head almost the entire night.”
“I’m still confused. It sounds like it was going great. Why did you freak out?”
“You know how I suck at Skee-ball?” I ask, and she laughs.
“And baseball, and corn hole, and volleyball, and basketball, and…”
“Okay. I suck at anything to do with aiming, except for shooter games.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that.”
“Well, he decided after he won, he wanted to teach me how to hit the target.”
“And?”
“You know those movies where the guy tries to teach the girl how to shoot a bow and arrow?” I ask as I walk over to grab a T-shirt and shorts for bed.
“Oooh. Please tell me he pressed your back against his chest and guided you through rolling a ball,” she practically screeches in excitement.
“Okay, when you say it that way, it just sounds weird.”
“But is that what happened?” she asks.
“Yes. He held my hip with one hand and my hand with the other. I hit the one-hundred-point hole.”
“No fucking way. So, all it takes is Mr. Bigshot to show you how it’s done? So, then what happened?”
I quickly pull on the shirt and shorts before lying down on my stomach across the foot of the bed.
She sits next to me and pulls my head onto her lap so she can detangle my damp hair.
She’s done this for a while now, taking care of me like I’m the sister she never had…
Neither of us had. It’s calming. It makes me recall faint, fuzzy memories of my mother from when she was alive.
“I turned around, and he had his arms open for a hug. I got so excited and jumped into his arms. He lifted me into the air and kissed my cheek before setting me back down. Then he asked if he could kiss me.”
“Fuck yes! Please tell me you said yes.”
“No,” I say, but when she shrieks like she’s about to hit me, I continue. “I simply said, ‘Kiss me’. So he did. And holy fuck can that man kiss.”
“Awww. That sounds perfect.”
“It was, until I told him we couldn’t do it again.”
“What?!” she practically screams at me.
Her body reacts without her realizing it, tightening her fingers on my hair and slightly pulling it.
“Ouch!”
I sit up and rub the spot on my scalp that stings.
“Sorry. But what the fuck, Willow? Why can’t you go out again?”
“Because he’s the son of my soon-to-be boss. He’s also a partner at the firm and could very likely be my boss one day, too.”
“I don’t see the issue here. Is there a ‘no fucking your coworkers’ clause in your job contract?”
She’s glaring at me with that disappointed look that I hate.
“I don’t know. I have my second interview on Tuesday…with him.”
“Oh fuck,” she says as she sits back down fully and relaxes. “So what did he say?”
“I didn’t really give him a chance to respond, other than him saying, ‘fuck what that old windbag thinks.’ I don’t think he likes his father very much. The tension around them was thick this afternoon.”
“So what are you going to do about Tuesday?” she asks after a few moments of silence.
“I don’t know. I want this job so badly, Jenna. I’ve wanted it since moving back to Michigan. Anderson’s was always the endgame for me. I knew if I got in, I’d retire from there.”
“So do it. Go to the interview on Tuesday. Be the best fucking candidate for the job and take it. Then once the old windbag dies, maybe you two can…”
“Jenna, it’s not going to happen.”
“The job or Noah?”
“Noah. Fuck, maybe the job too?”
My stomach feels like I’m being stabbed repeatedly.
I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
I can feel the pressure from tears forming behind my eyes.
I hate how easy things were with him. I’ve never had a better time on a date.
I’ve never felt more seen than I was by him.
I’ve never felt more understood. Fucking hell!
Why does the thing I want have to be what I can’t have?
“I’m sorry, babe.”
She lies next to me, placing the side of her head against my own.
“It’s okay. We don’t always get what we want.”
No matter how badly we want it.