Chapter 11 Jacks
Jacks
“Grant, I swear to God if you don't move, I’m going to kill you. I’m gonna be late.
” When Grant and I got back to our room after practice, he started acting weird as hell.
Now, as I’m trying to leave to go pick up Claire for our first official fake date, he’s standing in front of the door and blocking my path.
“Jacks, I’m not letting you leave until you tell me where you're going. I want to know more about you and Claire. Besides that one night last week, you’ve been a closed book about you two.”
I should've known this was going to happen. Since taking our fake relationship public, I forgot to tell my close friends any details about how this happened. Of course, my best friend was bound to have questions. I can’t tell him it’s fake, but I also feel weird lying to him.
What do I do? “Yeah. Sorry, we’ve decided to keep things mostly private, you know? ”
“Buddy! What the fuck?” He smacks my arm, hard.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
“I’m your best friend! You should know you can tell me anything and everything!
” He paces around our room as if I just gave him life-changing news.
God, he’s so dramatic sometimes. Claire and I literally hung out with him the other day.
I shouldn't have to explain every detail to him when he’s seen firsthand that we’re together.
At least to everyone else we are, but for us it’s “fake.”
“You're the one being all hush hush about you and Hads. Care to comment on that, or are we going to ignore the giant elephant in the room?” Yeah, two can play this game, jackass.
“Don't fucking call her that, and fuck you.”
“Mhm, whatever.” He looks pissed and a little frustrated, and I instantly feel bad for bringing it up. That was shitty of me, but Grant just changes the subject. “Is that where you're headed? To see her?”
“Yes, we’re going on a date. Can you move so I can leave and not keep her waiting?”
“If you had said that in the first place, I would’ve cleared a path for you! Go! Go! Go!” Grant claps his hands, and that gets me moving out of the building and into the night.
After I knock on her door, I wait until I hear her shuffling around and the door opens.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for this. She looks…
I don't even think I have words to describe her beauty right now. Fuck, I’m not strong enough for this.
She’s wearing a burnt orange dress, short black heels that bring her height to just under my chin, and her normal rings and jewelry that she always wears.
I noticed that she never changes her jewelry up, and I make a mental note to get her a new ring or necklace to add to her collection—gold, of course, so it matches the rest. Our clothes match, but only a little bit.
I’m wearing a brown polo, black slacks and some dress shoes.
Grant told me the place was semi-fancy, and this was all I had.
Or maybe that’s too weird? I don't know, but all I do know is that Claire looks like a fucking goddess tonight.
She waves her hand in front of my face and smiles at me. “Jacks? Are you in there?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Just…stunned, I think.”
“Stunned in a good way? I can change if it’s too much. I was worried that it would be.”
“You look beautiful, Claire. Truly…it just caught me off guard for a second.”
“Careful, Jacks. Any more of that will make me think this isn't fake.”
God, I could say right now that it doesn't feel fake, but I refrain. “Good one,” I say, trying to play off what I feel right now. “Are you ready to go, gorgeous?”
“I’m ready,” she smiles, and I swear I feel it in my chest. It feels good making her smile. I hold my arm out for her, and she wordlessly loops hers through mine as we make our way toward my car.
Claire
The car ride to the restaurant was full of me badgering Jacks about his music taste, and him and I agreeing that Taylor Swift is one of the best musical artists of all time.
The conversation came up because his playlist had songs from Fearless on it, and when I asked him how he knew all the words to Hey Stephen, he just scoffed at me and laughed—as if he wouldn't know them.
Needless to say, I was impressed. Clay never liked listening to music…
like at all. It was honestly kind of weird.
I feel like that’s an odd trait to have.
Clay also never liked dancing with me. Even when we went to prom together during our senior year of high school, he barely slow danced for one song until his friends stole him away.
Knowing Jacks is a Swiftie immediately makes me trust him more.
A lot of guys would pretend to be a fan just to seem like they have something in common with you.
Not Jacks. He was fully belting the words to Mr. Perfectly Fine on our way here, after he dedicated it to Clay.
It fit my situation almost too well, and we both got a good laugh about it.
It’s not that I didn't trust him before, but this just solidifies the fact that he continues to surprise me in the best ways possible.
Who knew Jacks had so many layers underneath that introverted, shy personality of his?
We’ve been sitting at our table for a few minutes, and I have to say that this is the most fun I’ve had in a while with someone of the opposite gender.
It almost feels a bit too easy, and I’m scared that something is going to ruin this.
Our friendship, of course. I could see us being friends after all this fake dating stuff is over.
It sounds really nice—being friends with him.
It feels right, like we just fit like two puzzle pieces. Two friendship puzzle pieces.
“So, besides hockey, have you ever played any other sports?” I ask, wondering if he’s spent his whole life at the rink, or if it took a second to get there.
“It’s just been me and the ice since I was a kid, and I wouldn't have it any other way.” He smiles at that, and I can tell he's thinking of his fondest memories from the past. He’s got a few different types of smiles.
The genuine one which lights up his whole face, the awkward one where only one part of his mouth upturns, and the nervous one where he tilts his head down.
I don't know how I know the difference between them, but I do. It’s easy to tell, and he’s fairly easy to read.
“What about you? Have you played any sports?”
“No. When I was growing up, my dad would watch sports all the time, and when I was little, I used to sit on his lap while he explained the rules to me. That’s how I got into sports, and eventually into sports photography.”
“Wow, I love that. My parents were the ones who put me into hockey because of how much energy I had as a kid. I’ve thanked them profusely since, because hockey is…everything to me. I know it’s just a sport, and it might sound insane, but—”
I cut him off. “No, it doesn't. It’s cool that sports and things like that are able to make us feel so whole. That’s what photography does for me. I love seeing how I can capture different things in just the split second that it takes for a photo to be taken.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s exactly like that. The rush I get from hockey is just so different from anything else. I feel like a completely different person when I’m on the ice.”
“In what way?”
“More confident, I think. I know what my job is when I’m out there, and I’m confident in my skills and ability to get it done. I’ve never really felt like that in normal life.” He smiles sadly, and before I can ask him what that means, our waitress comes up.
“Hello and welcome. I’ll be your server tonight! My name is Cassie,” she says as she sets some breadsticks down on our table. “Do you need a few more minutes, or are you good to order now?”
I look over at Jacks, and he nods his head. “I think we’re ready now. Ladies first.”
“I’ll have the—”
“Wait, Claire, just before you order,” he turns to the waitress. “Do you guys have or use anything that involves peanuts or peanut oil?”
Oh my God. Did he really just ask her that for me? “No. We’re a completely nut-free establishment.”
“Great. Thank you so much.” He points his hand at me, as if motioning me to continue. I suddenly don't know if I can because him asking that one question just threw my head for a loop. Clay never did that.
“I’ll have the chicken parmesan, please.” My voice shakes a little as I order because I feel so…well I don't know what I feel, but the butterflies in my stomach have woken up.
Jacks closes his menu. “I’ll have the same, please.”
Cassie collects our menus and walks away, leaving us in a weird silence as the two of us sit across from each other.
“Thank you for doing that,” I say to him.
“Doing what?”
“Double-checking with the waitress over my allergy. That was really thoughtful of you.” And nobody has ever done that before for me because I’m normally the one who has to do it, and now I feel all weird inside because that might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.
“Of course. You can never be too careful, especially with food allergies.” He throws his awkward smile at me before he reaches over and grabs my hand.
He rests our hand in the middle of the table before speaking again.
“I know it’s important to you that I remember that, and trust me when I tell you that it’s easy to remember everything about you because of who you are.
You’re a great person, Claire. I’m glad to be able to get to know you, even if our relationship is supposed to be fake.
I’m happy that parts of it can just be for us, and not everybody else. ”
Oh. “Me too. You’re a lot different than I thought you would be, Jacks Moore.”
“Right back at you, gorgeous.” There he goes again, slipping that nickname out so easily.