Chase
Gravity by John Mayer
I knock on his door with my foot, both hands full—one with a brown tote, the other carrying my grumpy cat, Honey, who’s already judging me for dragging her ass out this early.
It takes less than a second for the door to swing open.
And there he is.
Jeremiah stands there, yet again, in his joggers—this time with a loose grey T-shirt that somehow clings perfectly over his strong chest. His hair is still damp from the shower, dripping on his shoulders. He must’ve come home from the gym and showered right before I arrived.
I make the mistake of imagining him training, hot and sweaty, before rushing home to get ready for me.
Heat floods my face, and I immediately look away, making a conscious effort not to check him out.
Which, frankly, feels unfair when he keeps opening the door looking like that.
Thankfully this morning, I opted for a more casual fit with an oversized beige t-shirt, black athletic shorts and my backwards Blue Jays baseball hat.
“Morning. I bring royalty.”
He breathes out a soft “Hey,” and then actually grins as I hold up the carrier.
Bending over, he peeks inside. “Is that my girl?”
“Don’t push it,” I tease, stepping inside. “She doesn’t even know your name.”
“She will,” he says, closing the door behind me. “I’ve got coffee started.”
“I brought breakfast.” I hold up my brown tote as proof. Inside, I have some egg wraps, protein yogurt bowls I picked up from Vortex before my Uber came, and a couple of Ferrero Rocher's, for later.
“You shouldn’t have. I could’ve made you something,” he says, sliding my tote from my arm and setting it on one of the bar stools.
“Ah well, we’ll call it even after cooking me dinner last night.” I shrug.
He huffs out a laugh, laying out the breakfast on a couple of dinner plates on the kitchen island.
“But, I liked doing that.”
“And I like getting you breakfast,” I counter before I can stop myself, my cheeks immediately getting hot. “I like getting us breakfast,” I correct. “You know, food. Sustainability. It’s good to get that protein in there,” I ramble, scratching the back of my neck.
Thankfully, judging by the small smile on Jeremiah’s lips he at least finds my babbling somewhat entertaining.
He claps his hands together, taking a deep breath in. “Well, we’ve got a long day. Might as well get right to it.”
Honey lets out a yowl that somehow sounds like she’s agreeing, so I set her carrier down and unzip it.
She trots out immediately and begins her inspection of Jeremiah’s condo as if she’s moving in.
I watch him watch her. Biting the inside of my cheek at how cute it is to see his lips turn into a soft smile.
“She’s got standards,” I warn. “She’ll destroy your couch if she’s not impressed.”
“I respect a woman with taste,” he says, pressing a button on his very fancy coffee machine. “I have trust in her.”
Right away, the kitchen fills with the smell of fresh coffee beans and sweetness.
Again, there’s music playing softly from a hidden speaker somewhere—some kind of indie acoustic playlist that I’m realizing he loves.
I think I love it too. It’s nice. Makes me feel like I’m in some sort of brunch café with the bright sun streaming in.
We sit across from each other at his kitchen island, our food laid out between us and laptops already open. As prepped and ready as we are, I can tell neither of us are in any rush to actually begin.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
Honestly, I went to sleep thinking about him, which is starting to weirdly become a nightly ritual.
I nod, swallowing my bite of wrap before I answer. “Yeah. Better than expected, actually.”
“Good. You were a real friend last night. I know how much you care about Mia.”
“It’s what I do. I like being there for my friends.” I shrug, biting into my wrap to avoid the confusing nerves building up inside.
I watch Jeremiah take a slow bite of his wrap, nodding in agreement.
“Thanks for…you know…being there. For Mia… and for me,” I add, dusting off crumbs from my lap that aren’t really there.
“I’m always here,” he says, and something about the way he says it makes me look up.
It’s quiet for a beat as our eyes fix on each other. Until, Honey jumps up onto Jeremiah’s lap, curling into a little loaf.
My mouth falls open at the sight. “I never thought I’d see this day but…Honey has chosen.”
His brow raises as he pets her behind her ears. “I thought that was already established.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I guess you continue to surprise me.”
Tilting his head slightly, he studies me, and I swear I forget what I was saying for a second. There’s something about his eyes when he looks at people—at me, like that.
Just then, a buzz on his phone catches his attention. I watch him pick up his phone. I don’t mean to look, but I can see the name ‘Roy Blackwood’ flash across the screen.
He sets the phone down with a sharp clack against the marble and rolls his shoulders back.
“Ready to get to work?” he asks, sliding his laptop closer to him.
I sit up straight too, dusting off my hands. “Oh, uh—yeah. Let’s do it.”
***
“And then I come in with my speech, yada yada yada, and we all laugh and cry, and it’s tremendous.” Heather waves it off like it’s no big deal.
We all laugh from our designated Zoom boxes on the screen.
After Jeremiah and I finished up with calls, we hopped on Zoom to connect with Heather.
It’s been a couple of hours spent finalizing our presentation with her, going over the last-minute tweaks.
Honestly, it’s nice seeing her face, even if it’s through a screen.
“You boys did an amazing job setting this all up. I’m serious. This is spectacular,” Heather says with a warm smile.
Jeremiah and I are perched outside again on the back balcony patio, this time shoulder to shoulder.
I mean, we had to since the camera spreads only so wide as my laptop sits on his little round coffee table.
If it weren’t for our boss watching us from the screen, I’d have a much harder time focusing with him this close.
“Thanks, Heather.” I smile.
“Looking forward to the Gala on Friday,” Jeremiah adds with a nod. “Should be great.”
“Well, game day is really tomorrow morning,” Heather sighs, her tone shifting just a touch. “The investors are already checked into their hotels. I’ll meet you at the office for introductions.”
“I love you, Heather, but I can’t wait for the day you won’t have to be this involved,” I sigh. She’s supposed to be stepping back, not staying knee-deep in everything.
“Oh, me too, love,” she laughs. “But, we’re almost there!” She cheers, throwing her hands up in a mini-celebration.
We both nod, returning her smile.
“Well, I better let you two go—you’re probably starved,” she says, flicking her wrist to glance at her watch. Then she glances off-screen, probably to her wife, Emily. “What? Oh. Pizza’s here! I gotta run!”
Ah, shit. Time really flew, yet again. We say our goodbyes and shut the computer off for the day. It’s past 6 PM, and the sun’s starting to dip past the buildings of his view.
“Pizza sounds so good right now,” I groan, stretching and sitting up straighter. Would it be too forward to ask him out for a slice?
Jeremiah glances over his shoulder, through the glass into his apartment. “Pizza it is, then.”
“You’ve got a good pizza place around here?” I ask, pulling my phone from my pocket, already ready to Google something nearby.
He shakes his head and pushes himself off the couch. “No, we’re making our own. I’m pretty sure I have everything.”
He disappears into the apartment before I can respond. I blink, still seated, stunned, and a little thrilled.
Make our own?
I finally follow him inside, and sure enough, he’s already bouncing back and forth from his pantry to his fridge, pulling out ingredients like this was the plan all along.
He lines them up neatly on the kitchen island—flour, sauce, cheese, fresh basil, mushrooms, pepperoni, and some other small baking supplies.
“I wasn’t joking,” he says over his shoulder, catching my eye. “Hope you’re ready to get your hands dirty.”