Chapter 12 Jimmy
Jimmy
Six out of the fourteen fluorescent tubes are flickering.
I stare at them dancing out of synch while I lie uselessly on the weight bench.
Coming to the gym alone while your mind is overloaded is not at all productive. My phone beeps, and I’m pretty sure I have lifted this iPhone more than any provided weight since I’ve been here.
But what if I don't want to.
Autumn's response to me saying she needs to get more sleep.
You don't ever text me goodnight until like 3 in the morning. I don't want to see a good morning from you before 11.
Too bad.
I shake my head and laugh as I stick my phone back into my pocket.
Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll fall back asleep.
But ignoring her is the hardest part. This conversation is just the tiniest glimpse into what our everyday lives have become over the last few weeks.
Our conversations hardly ever have an ending, and I don’t want them to.
I know I’m heading for trouble, but it’s too late. I can’t stop, and worse, I know I don’t want to.
Everything with Autumn had always been so easy, so natural.
And it still is. She fills a hole in my life that I had placed a Band-Aid over.
But after that lunch, that Band-Aid’s been ripped off, and we talk every day again.
She can’t be on her phone much at work, but her being on the afternoon shift meant we got to talk the majority of the day anyway.
We talk about everything. She randomly sends me things that she thinks are funny, and even if I don’t agree, the fact that she thinks of me always makes me smile, regardless.
She told me I was the first one she texted when she got the apartment she wanted, and made me swear not to tell Kory that I knew first, just like she used to do all those years ago.
After a few hours of work and trying really hard to ignore her, I decide I need to see her again. Becca just went away for the night to attend the campus’s commencement ceremony, and I plan to take advantage of the alone time. Obviously, on the same wavelength, I get another message from Autumn.
Have you heard about our reunion?
I have.
Are you going?
I'm thinking about it.
Then I am too.
Good.
I am going. With Becca.
No, Becca doesn’t know our friendship is rekindled, but she can’t really be surprised. She’s my oldest friend. I send another message.
Can I see you again?
She reads it, but I follow it up with a third before she responds.
Becca's gone for the weekend, so I'm on my own for dinner. Let's go get food a celebrate your new place.
I do have tomorrow off.
She sends another.
Okay. Let's do it. People at work keep telling me about this place over here. Let's meet there.
She sends me an address. It’s closer to her place, about twenty-five minutes from here. Perfect. She sends another message.
7?
I look at the time. Five-thirty. I do have some work to wrap up for the weekend. My work hours have slowly crept later and later into the evening, as my mornings have become more distracting.
8? I have to do a few things first.
Trying to have me up past my bed time?
Maybe.
Oh. Coming from Ms. I don't want to sleep? Nice try.
She sends back the emoji that laughs with tears, then another message.
Fine. 8. See you there.
Completing and submitting a few reports, driving home, showering, and getting ready help pass the time faster than the last time I had to wait to see her.
I put on jeans and a light grey V-neck shirt. Becca told me once that a V-neck was a step up from my (in her opinion) awfully casual vintage T’s, but an acceptable step down from my button-down work shirts. It felt appropriate for a celebration.
I spray the cologne I’ve worn since high school. Autumn helped me pick it out one time, and a bottle has stayed in my collection ever since.
I get here before her this time. The place she brought me to is advertised as a bar/restaurant, but it definitely has more of a bar atmosphere. The lighting is dim, mainly lit by neon signs and string lights.
Loud music plays, and it only takes a few jarring genre changes to know there’s a customer-controlled jukebox somewhere in here. There are a few short tables, but mostly high-tops, and no booths.
I don’t know where she’d like to sit, so I just find two open seats at the main bar; we’re here celebrating after all.
Being here first not only allows me to choose our seats, but it also gives me the blessing of watching all the heads turn as she walks in. Everyone watching her as she walks right into my hug.
The first thing I notice tonight is her bright red lipstick.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear lipstick.
The bold color complements her blonde hair and contrasts with her black shirt at the same time.
She’s also in a V-neck, but the V in her shirt is cut much lower than mine. Have they always looked like that?
“Did you order drinks yet?” she asks.
“I did not,” I answer and politely wave for the bartender.
I order a Long Island, and she asks for the same. Our drinks come quickly, and we tap our glasses together, ‘toasting’ to her new place.
She tells me about the move and how she’s happy that everything she brought with her fits perfectly.
Her mom cried, despite it being less than thirty minutes away.
She’s on the third floor, which sucked for moving, but says it’s nice not having an upstairs neighbor.
Plus, according to her, it makes the balcony feel fancier, despite the less-than-stellar view.
We move on from her apartment and talk about our jobs. At some point, we get back to the reminiscing, laughing in between each ‘remember when?’ It’s amazing how many memories we have. We can talk about them for hours, and we do.
I don’t know how many times our drinks have been refilled. I also don’t know why I do this, but at one point during all of those remember whens, I quickly lean in and kiss her. I pull away just as fast, and she stares at me, blinking.
“Do you remember being each other’s first kiss?” I ask.
She breaks her stare with a smile and takes a sip out of the drink stirrer she’s using as a straw. “We were like eleven and twelve, that hardly counts.”
“Sure, it does, you looked at me exactly the same as you did just now.”
We both smile, holding eye contact for a few seconds. She looks away first when she asks the bartender to close her tab. I follow suit.
On the way outside, I can see in her walk that it’s probably a good idea she Ubered here. Not sloppy, but not steady either. I’m honestly not far behind her myself. I guess I didn’t think this one through. We walk out the door and head around the corner to wait for her ride.
I look at her leaning up against the building, one foot pressed into the bricks, looking like she came straight out of an edgy magazine cover.
The rips in her jeans accentuate the skin underneath that’s trying to be exposed from the pressure of her bent leg.
She notices me smiling, and her lips stretch seductively as her eyelashes flutter.
Her boozy smile works as a magnet, and I can’t fight the pull anymore.
In an instant, my lips are on hers, and our tongues find each other. The heat from her body absorbs into mine. My hand on the back of her head feverishly tries to pull her into me more, if possible. I want it to be possible.
I pull our lips apart and bring mine to her neck. She smells so good. She tastes so good. Where has she been? She hums in response, and I think the vibration from her throat goes straight through my veins.
My mouth finds its way back to hers. She grabs my head, then wraps her leg around mine. I follow her lead and lift both legs, wrapping them around my waist and pinning her between my burning body and the cold wall.
Headlights pull in, and we quickly adjust, both out of breath. The Uber pulls up next to us, and I open the door for her, but instead of sinking into the seat, she stops and looks up at me.
“You wanna see my new apartment?”