Track 11 #2
When their flirty conversation turns into a full-on make out sesh, I take my cue and exit stage left.
I know she’ll be leaving soon, and clearly not alone, so I walk to the bar, taking an empty seat at the edge and watch as Jake serves patron after patron.
He offers his shining smile to nearly everyone he greets, kind and endearing, and I can’t help the sense of pride that fills me.
I’m proud to know a guy like him. Whether I’m worthy of him or not, it’s nice to have befriended someone so wholesome and real.
To know that people like him still exist in the world.
Someone who truly cares about how others feel and does his best to do right by everyone.
And when he doesn’t, when he falls short like we all sometimes do, he actually takes accountability for it.
He doesn’t leave you to wonder what you possibly did wrong that made him act differently.
He just…owns it. Faces it head-on, even when it hurts.
He might have a lot going on, but he’s still true to who he is at his core, and there’s nothing but good there. It’s rare, that kind of honesty. The kind that doesn’t need to be dressed up or explained away. The kind that just is and gives purely, wholly.
Maybe that’s why it stings a little, realizing how easy it is to admire someone like him from afar, knowing I must hide the ache of never being able to have him—because it’s safer that way.
It’s safer to love him quietly, to let my admiration and longing masquerade as friendship and innocent flirting.
It’s safer to keep him at arm’s length, where he can stay perfect in my mind instead of messy and complicated in my reality.
The truth is I can’t afford to have him any other way, and I would never want him to carry the weight of my chaos or bear the burden of my storm.
This version of friendship is the only choice we can have, because I’d never forgive myself for turning something pure into something tarnished and stained.
For a moment, though, I wonder what it’s like to be on the other side of that smile of his. To exist in the warmth of it and swim in the world that softens when it shines. To be the reason for it and let that fill me instead of the mess that’s there.
I let myself get lost in the thought of his lips against mine, as if that one kiss could absolve everything I’ve ever done wrong.
When his eyes find mine from across the bar, that familiar tug in my chest pulls tight, and I’m reminded exactly why I shouldn’t wonder at all. Thoughts become reality. It’s best not to feed the ones you know can’t be.
“Ready?” he asks after he serves his last round. He grabs his charcoal hoodie and slips it on. It’s not even close to closing time so I’m slightly thrown off.
“Um, yeah. One sec.” I scan the room for Lia, who’s no longer seated at our previous table.
When I don’t see Tyler either, I check my phone for a text, and sure enough, there is one.
It’s a kissy face emoji next to an eggplant and tongue.
I’m not sure if she was telling me her next endeavor or was rooting for mine, but I laugh anyway, knowing that was her goodbye.
“What’s so funny?” Jake asks as he flips up the hinged bar top beside me and spins my barstool until I’m facing him. When I look up and meet his eyes, that warm downward grin meets the tiny spark brightening his hazel eyes, and my stomach drops like I just fell off a cliff.
I’m momentarily stunned by his beauty. His perfect shaped jaw. The bold outline of his kissable lips. I shake it off well enough to say, “Lia,” with a trace of a smile and a light giggle.
Jake’s smile deepens as if he’s pleased to see mine. As if the sound of my amusement is what placed his. I let myself believe maybe it is, so my heart can enjoy the affection its swelling with as I take his hand and hop off the barstool.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we don’t walk toward the door, but to the parquet dance floor set just below the second floor’s overhang.
“To loosen you up, Tin Man.” I smile and his expression shifts to something more playful when I look at him.
When we get to the center of the near empty space, he turns to face me, lifting our linked hands while placing his other on the small of my back. My left hand finds the top of his chest, hard and warm beneath it. I ignore the way my heart races as we begin to sway to Thomas Rhett’s “Make Me Wanna.”
“You’re sad today,” he says over the loud music.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
Jake gives me a knowing look. “Do you know how many times you’ve smiled tonight?” I can barely digest his question with the way my hand is burning from being on his chest, the way the other is tingling being engulfed in his.
“Three.”
“That sounds like a good amount.” I shrug, trying to sound calm as ever. As if the fact that he was watching me and counting my smiles hasn’t affected me at all. Documenting my happiness as if it’s some sort of scale he needs to measure.
Jake shakes his head slowly, his eyes set on mine. “Not for you,” he says matter-of-factly, his voice deep and sure. “Not by a long shot.”
I swallow hard, too moved by the notion to form a thought. I clear my throat, trying to gather myself as words tumble out in a flirty response. “Have you been watching me, Mr. Cooper?”
His lips curve deeper into an endearing grin. “I think I’ve been watching you longer than I realized.”
Warmth kisses my cheeks as the blood rushes to them, swooshing in my ears. My heart thuds erratically.
“Stalking is definitely illegal,” I tease, forcing myself to maintain the lightness I have with him above all else.
His smile tilts to one side. “I think I’ll take my chances.”
His wide hand stays firm and centered at the base of my back, and I zero in on the way his pinky nearly trails the waist of my jeans. His hold is strong. Secure. Like he would keep me here forever if he could.
When the song ends, he releases me and nods toward the door, taking my hand and pulling me to follow behind him. When we make it out the door, he drops his hold on me. I feel the absence immediately. I shove my hands into my back pockets, trying to ignore it.
We’ve taken a few strides down the darkened street, our steps slow and sluggish even though the temperature has dropped to fifty degrees. Our breath puffs into dissipating vapors before us as we walk in comfortable silence.
I think about how easy it is to be with him.
How the air always feels lighter when he’s near, like my world forgets its heaviness for a little while.
I wonder if he feels the same, and when his eyes catch mine and the tension thickens, I know he has to.
It’s too bold of a feeling to miss—the way the quiet vibrates like the earth has held its breath too long, waiting for one of us to break it.
“So, tell me why it was a bad day,” he says, breaking our silence.
“Who says it was a bad day?” I want to keep my lie. I want to pretend that everything in my life is just as it should be, but I don’t know that I’ll be able to. Not with him.
“Well, for one, the smile thing.” I nod as I flatten my lips into a pursed line. “And two, you said alcohol is for bad days that need good moments. And you had quite a bit of it.”
I let out an airy laugh and give him a side-eye. “Should I be concerned that you remember that? This is getting more stalkerish by the minute.”
“Oh, it’s top-tier stalkerish.”
I laugh.
“Borderline creepy, honestly,” he doubles down.
I laugh even harder, and he chuckles, too. After a few beats, our laughter subsides, and he asks again. “Seriously, tell me why your day was bad.”
I take a deep breath, wanting to keep it all inside.
Wanting to keep every broken piece of my life hidden from view so he can keep thinking I’m the same wholesome, bubbly, spunky-for-all-the-right-reasons girl he’s grown to like.
I don’t want him to see the truth—that I’m a dark cloud on a shiny day.
That I’m a spitfire because I had to be in order to survive. That nobody loved me enough to stay.
He grabs my hand from my pocket, stopping me midstep, and slowly pulls me back to him.
“Alana,” he commands.
My eyes dart to his, and my breath quickens with his plea. “Please? I want to be there for you. It made me…” His tongue peeks out to wet his lips as he releases a breath, and mine catches in my throat. “My whole heart hurt seeing you sad like that and not knowing why. Please tell me.”
I stare at him, his beautiful eyes not blinking as they pour into mine.
In this moment, I want to give him all of me.
I want to let the facade I’ve built around me fall away like scales.
His beautiful lips press together as they wait for me to speak.
But I can’t. I’m completely mute. My tongue is caught in my throat at just the way he said my name.
“You can talk to me. I might not be able to fix anything. But I can be here. I can listen. It’s okay if you don’t want to, but—”
“My mom left when I was seven,” my mouth blurts before my mind can stop it.
His jaw slacks slightly, and I push myself to continue before I lose my courage to speak at all.
“Yeah,” I look down at my feet, my hand still in his, and I try not to focus on the way the tingle of it is traveling up my arm.
“She never said anything, she just…was gone. Looking back now, there were signs and things she said, but it’s not stuff you pick up on when you’re little, you know? My dad…” I swallow as I work to compose my emotions, forcing out my barred truth.