Chapter 21 Rosie
Rosie
“That was a lot,” Jack groans, falling onto the couch in his apartment above the shop.
“Yeah,” I say with a wide smile. “But it was fun.”
And surprisingly, it was.
Or maybe it’s not surprising at all, since I’ve found I always have fun with Jack.
I flop on the couch next to him, and I snuggle into his side.
His chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and warmth and calm wash over me as his own body eases beneath me.
I thought about using my magic a few times throughout the day to ease the stress he’d been feeling, but decided against it, and I’m happy I did.
I wanted him to do this on his own, feel and harness those nerves, so when his next event came, he knew he could do it.
His arms come down to pull me closer into him, and I melt further into him, my hand lifting to brush along his arm.
Tonight was perfect, really. Ryan came early, and even though Jack felt weird about it since he was technically a guest, he helped a ton.
He helped some attendees find what they needed, taught different game rules, and, of course, hyped Jack up the entire time.
I knew they would get along well, since Ryan is outgoing and friendly, if a little overly excited sometimes, but they’re an even better match than I could have imagined.
And once Jack got over his nerves and social anxiety, he was the perfect host, and it was a blast watching him in his element for once.
He knew the answer to every question, was able to guide players into ways to use their cards more efficiently, and was the king of the party.
Each time someone complimented him, a deep blush burned over his cheeks, so unused to anyone complimenting him, and it was sweet.
When a few of the partners who came to support a player showed interest in going across the street to check out my shop, I also couldn’t stop thinking about what a perfect match our shops could be.
My mind started buzzing with ideas about joint event nights, maybe an occasional book club and a game night at the same time, though it would probably mean I wouldn’t get to hang out with Jack.
My hand continues to roam over his arm absentmindedly as we sit in silence, my mind roaming over ideas.
It seems Jack’s mind is also roaming with his next words.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to…” I look up at him when he starts and see a blush burning over his cheeks. “Do anything. Tonight was a lot. If you want to leave, I totally understand.” I give him a soft look, then try to sit up, but his arm tightens around me, making it so I can’t leave.
“That’s fine,” I say with a shake of my head. “I have nothing going on for the rest of the night. Unless that’s code for hey, get out, I want to be alone. I won’t be offended in the least.”
He looks at me with a bit of shock on his face, and I try to understand where it’s coming from before he clarifies.
“No, no. I just meant… you know, if you had any expectations… I don’t want you to be, uh…
” His blush becomes somehow deeper, and I have to fight a laugh from leaving my chest, not because I want to make fun of him, but because he’s just so freaking sweet.
“Disappointed.” A beat passes before I shift to straddle him, holding his jaw in my hands and smiling down at him, seeing the exhaustion mixed with accomplishment written clear across his face.
I understand now where he’s coming from. The fact of the matter is, we’ve never spent time together without doing something. But still… “We don’t have to fuck all the time, you know that, right?” That blush burns brighter.
“I just thought today was already so far past the fuck buddy expectations that—” The laughter finally wins, escaping my chest in a burst of joy, unable to be contained any longer.
“Fuck buddy?”
His brow furrows in confusion. “That’s what we are, aren’t we?”
I tip my head to the side and smile gently at him, my thumb brushing over his high cheekbone, stubble grazing along the pad of my finger.
“I mean, yeah. We’re fuck buddies. But I think we’re also friends, too, Jack.” My heart swells with the smile that takes over his face, warmth moving through me even though there is a voice in my head telling me I’m getting far too comfortable with this. With him. With us. “Friends can hang out.”
Friends. A word I never in a million years thought someone could use for Jack and me and our once tumultuous relationship, but here we are, fucking any free moment we have, going on a magical quest together, and helping each other with very run-of-the-mill nonmagical life moments.
I guess that could be classified as friends. Right?
“Okay, well, what do you want for a late-night dinner?” I smile. “I can—” I start, and he groans, dropping his head back dramatically and making me laugh.
“Rosie, after all the elaborate help you gave me today, at the very least let me feed you.” Despite his dramatics, when he settles his gaze back on me, I realize he means it and wants me to let him do this.
Who am I to deny him that?
“Okay, Jack. I’ll let you feed me.” And when he smiles wide before giving me a soft kiss, I know I made the right choice.
“I think it’s the journalist,” I murmur, shifting on the bed and moving until I’m on top of him, my chest against his as I set my book aside, too tired to read any longer.
“Hmm?” I realize that his game is paused, and I wonder for a moment how long it’s been like that.
The controller is set aside, a foot away.
We ordered Chinese delivery from a place still open one town over and spent the last two hours with my head in his lap, the blanket of his bed a mess around us, me reading silently while he played his game.
Occasionally, his hand would move, running through my hair while a new level loaded, and once in a while, I would look up and ask a question about the game.
He’d patiently answer and would entertain me when I told him about what was happening in my book, providing details when I gasped at different moments.
I’m reading a suspense romance where there’s a serial killer on the loose in a normally sleepy small town.
This author never fails to have me on the edge of my seat, and I’m thoroughly enjoying having someone to tell about all of my theories.
All that to say, it’s been the most peaceful, perfect night I’ve had in a long time.
“In my book. The killer? I think it’s the journalist.” He gives me a soft smile that shines in his eyes more than it’s written on his face, and it goes straight to my stomach, filling it with sunshine warmth that radiates out.
“Hmm. Would make sense, since they’ve been on the scene every time someone was found.
” I refuse to let my mind stop too much on how he’s clearly been listening every time I tell him about the story I’m reading—not when everyone I’ve ever dated has always gotten annoyed by my excited need to tell them about my books.
I’ve never had that: a man who was not only willing, but also content to just be with me for a night, reading and being together in relative silence, and somehow was happy just to hang out together, separately.
Thankfully, my mind doesn’t have to linger there too long, not when his face goes sincere and his hand cups my cheek, a thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “Thank you, Rosie,” he whispers. My brows furrow in confusion.
“For what?”
“Being okay with doing nothing.” I shift then so I can see his face clearly and give him a small smile, hoping he understands just how much I mean my next words when I say them.
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather do nothing with more, Jack.”
Because I can’t.
And slowly, I’m realizing with an equal mix of awe and panic that it’s the truth, and in just over three weeks this will be over and the curse will be broken. I’ll be moving on to find my one true love, and for a split, insane second, I wish I could stay cursed just a little longer.