28. Perfect #3
I gasp in mock horror, slamming my hand over his mouth. “You mustn’t let them hear you!” Leaning towards the glass partition where several trays of food are being prepared, I whisper in the gentlest voice, “He didn’t mean that.”
Jase peels my hand away, but he also plants a kiss atop my head as he hugs me from behind. “You’re such a dork.”
“Your point being?”
“It’s adorable.” Despite me not being able to see his face at this angle, Jase must be looking over the menu board behind the counter. “Is there anything in particular you would recommend?”
“You can’t go wrong with any of their burgers, but they also have Chicago-style hot dogs that are to die for. And then there’s Italian beef sandwiches, the Cheesy Beef on Garlic Bread, grilled cheese practically oozing with butter—”
I’m not sure how long he lets me ramble on for, but he eventually laughs. “You just ran through the entire menu, and you weren’t even looking at it.”
This only makes me smile more. “There’s a Slippery Pete’s right by my campus, and I pretty much lived there freshman year. It was soul-crushing thinking I’d have to go the entire summer without being able to eat here.”
My stomach quite literally announces this confirmation, letting out another terrible growl loud enough to be heard over the chatter and music.
Jase peers over my shoulder, looking almost alarmed by the sound. “Seriously, how can you be this hungry? You just came back from dinner.”
I step forward out of his hold, turning my face away so he might not notice the heat rising to my cheeks. “It’s…complicated.”
“I figured the portions would be small, but did the restaurant not serve food at all?”
“I tend to lose my appetite when I’m stressed, which interrogations tend to do,” I admit.
His eyebrows furrow. “Holbrooke interrogated you?”
“No…” I mutter sheepishly. “His parents did.”
“I’m sorry, what?” As hard as he might, Jase can’t hold back his smile, his chest shaking with silent laughter. “Just for clarification, did his parents crash your date, or did he invite them?”
I smack him lightly in the chest, though I’d be more convincing if not for the fact that I’m also trying not to laugh. “No, he didn’t invite them, and it’s not like they were mean or anything. They were just…inquisitive.”
All Jase has to do is issue me one pointed look for me to crack.
“Okay, fine, they were weird as hell.”
“What were they asking you?”
“Everything. And I don’t mean that as an exaggeration. At one point, they were pushing to know about my family’s medical history, and his mom made a ‘joke’ about wanting to see my dental records, but I’m honestly not sure if she was kidding.”
“I’m sure she was—”
“She also asked if anyone related to me has ever had fertility issues and if I’m currently taking a contraceptive.
” I bury my face in my hands, only bothering to peek through my fingers to see Jase’s face.
“Wes looked like he wanted to impale himself with a butter knife, and I wanted to join him. Seriously, even the couple seated adjacent to us in the restaurant had secondhand embarrassment having to witness this.”
“Do you plan on going out with him again?”
I shrug, unsure of what else to do. The longer I’ve had to process the date, the more alarm bells keep sounding off in my mind.
“Wes is really sweet, and we get along well, but…I can’t even handle the shit going on with my own family.
I wouldn’t know where to start dealing with his parents.
And the guy’s got a bodyguard. I mean, he was nice and everything, but it would be weird to always have a third wheel lurking in the shadows everywhere I went with Wes. ”
I remove my hands from my face to concentrate on rubbing my temples, and Jase slings an arm around my shoulder, hauling me back against him.
“How about an easier question,” he teases. “Have you at least decided on what you want to eat?”
And Jase is right.
Because I’ve never heard an easier question in my life.
I begin devouring my cheese fries even before we reach the booth, and when we set our trays down on the table, I waste no time digging into the rest of my food.
While Jase eats his hot dogs and onion rings like a civilized human, I probably look like a ravenous hyena with how I tear into my bacon burger.
It’s drenched with ketchup, just the way I like, and the bacon is the perfect degree of crispy that I can’t help but moan.
“I take it your meal meets customer satisfaction?” Jase asks, handing me some much needed napkins.
My moaning only continues as I take a drink of my vanilla shake, the flavor unrivaled. “Am I the only one hearing the choir of angels singing?”
He laughs, but I’m wholly serious.
“You have no idea how much I missed you,” I whisper to a cheese fry before popping it into my mouth.
Sure, I look like a crazy person, but I don’t mind. And neither does Jase, it seems. The more I eat and gush over the meal and talk about its “hangover healing properties,” the larger his grin becomes.
We fall into conversation about anything and everything to do with my time away at college, and I regale him with the many misadventures Maggie dragged me along on, leaving us both laughing hard enough that we’re wiping away tears.
After a certain point, however, something in Jase’s expression changes. He’s still smiling, but there’s something almost sad about it.
“You okay?” I ask.
Jase sits back, as if needing to distance himself, and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” His voice cracks ever so slightly on the word, and he clears his throat, looking thoroughly self-conscious now. “It’s just…I haven’t seen you like this in quite some time.”
“What? Happy? ”
He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. You’re relaxed. You’re completely at ease just being yourself. You’re comfortable.”
“And that makes you uncomfortable ?”
I must sound as bewildered as I feel, because he’s compelled to elaborate.
“It makes me sad,” he admits. “I haven’t seen that smile in four years, and I know I’m the cause for most of those reasons.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, being away at college really did make me happy, so this isn’t the first time I’ve smiled in those four years. As soon as I changed my last name the summer before I left, I could already tell things would get better.”
“I tried finding you. Online, I mean. I already knew you didn’t have any social media profiles in your own name because of your stepmom’s rules, but I figured you’d make at least one account after you left. It honestly didn’t occur to me that you would change your last name.”
Now my expression is the one that’s shifting, and Jase doesn’t miss it.
“What?”
I shrug. “Honestly? I’m surprised you even thought about me at all.”
He looks back at me, incredulous. “Are you kidding? I thought about you all the time. Anytime I saw a girl with long black hair, I kept hoping when she turned around that I’d see it was you. I thought about you anytime I saw Oreos or heard Bob Seger playing or saw a raven, or saw any bird, period.”
I know the feeling. The most random things made me think about him over the years, but it was the more specific stuff like hearing Rick Astley, or eating ice cream, or simply visiting places around town that triggered those memories the most. And it never got easier.
But I still can’t wrap my head around the idea that Jase ever felt the same way.
My skepticism must show, because he can’t look at me, fixating his stare on the table, his fingertips tracing the carved design of the hardwood table top. “When it was clear I wouldn’t find you online, a small, very stupid part of me still hoped you’d eventually reach out, that you’d forgive me.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “That was stupid.”
I don’t mean for it to be rude, and thankfully, Jase doesn’t take it that way either. It’s just facts. Still, the answer leaves him looking dejected.
“Even if you had apologized, it still would have taken me a lot to forgive you,” I say. “And the fact that you never bothered to apologize made it clear you weren’t seeking my forgiveness.”
Of all things, Jase looks taken aback by this. “ If I had apologized? You are joking, right?”
The look he’s giving me is so utterly confused, I can’t help but laugh. Not because it’s remotely funny, but because he can’t possibly be implying what I think he is. “You do realize you never actually apologized to me?”
The fact he’s now staring at me like I have to be high leaves us both looking equally baffled.
“No words vaguely resembling ‘I’m sorry’ ever left your mouth when I confronted you on our first day of sophomore year,” I clarify. “And you never spoke to me again after that.”
“Yeah, well, seeing as how you ended that conversation, I didn’t think trying to talk to you in person was my safest bet.” He mimics punching himself in the face, and I roll my eyes.
“Yes, if only there were these little devices you could use to call or text someone,” I deadpan.
Jase just continues to blink at me. “Again, you are joking, right?”
When it’s clear I’m not, he pulls out his phone and opens up his text messages.
“This is your number, correct?” He shows me the contact at the top of the screen, and I nod. “What does this look like to you?”
Jase begins swiping, and I watch as dozens and dozens of text messages fly past on the screen…
They only take up the right side, showing that the “conversation” has been one-sided.
Without thinking, I take the phone from him, needing to see it from my own hands.
Because this has to be a trick.
But the more and more I scroll, I see that it’s not. Those dozens and dozens of text messages soon turn into hundreds. Some are photos with captions like: “Thought of you,” while others just say things like:
I’m an idiot.
Can you forgive me?
I’m so fucking sorry.
Can we talk?
Please, Birdie.
I miss you.
And these messages aren’t just from sophomore year. I scroll back down to see them dating back four years, three years, two years—
My thumb freezes on the screen at the sight of the texts from eighteen months ago, the date forever burned into my brain.
Both of my hands begin to shake, and the words in front of me blur as I try to blink back tears.
Are you okay?
Birdie????
What did he do???
Are you hurt?
Please call me!
Birdie!
Just let me know if you’re okay!
Message after message is sent, some within the same minute as another, and after over a dozen, the chain ends with:
I’m going to fucking kill him.