How to Fail at Flirting(41)
I typed a reply before deleting the thread.
Naya: Don’t message me again.
Unknown: We’ll talk soon, pretty girl.
The memory of his pet name crept over my skin. I looked around at the crowd in the coffee shop—the space bustled like normal, the friendly smile of the barista and the nutty aroma of brewing coffee undisturbed by this unexpected interruption. Wrapping a shaky hand around my coffee cup, I tried to take a drink, but it did nothing to quell the rising panic.
I shouldn’t have responded and given him the satisfaction of getting under my skin. Goose bumps rose on my arms.
Jake will be here soon. Jake will be here soon.
I realized with striking clarity the last two times I’d freaked out about Davis, I’d run to Jake, someone I barely knew. Here I was thinking he could save and protect me, but that wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t even in the ballpark of a solution.
I took another sip of coffee, trying to swallow the worry and panic and fear along with the milk and espresso. I’ll deal with it. I always deal with it. I’ll just be careful. I can weather this.
I packed up my things and hurried for home, longing for the safe comfort of my locked door.
Twenty-four
By the time Thursday arrived, I’d managed to pull myself together and had even been able to sleep a little each night. When fear or worry bubbled up, I’d repeat my mantra—I’ll deal with it—and push the anxiety aside, convincing myself if I didn’t acknowledge it, it didn’t exist. I met Jake in my building’s lobby, and at first glance, I felt safer than I had all week.
He leaned against a pillar and smiled from ear to ear when we made eye contact. He wore a white dress shirt with faint gray vertical stripes and gray suit pants. His face held the hint of a five-o’clock shadow, and his hair was a little shorter than it had been a few weeks ago, but his lips were the same—full and very kissable. I was glad I’d suggested the lobby—if he were at my door, I would have just pulled him inside.
“Hi.” I smiled tentatively, and we stared at each other for a moment. Well, what do we do now? Something between a handshake and dry-humping in the lobby? I reached to his shoulder and kissed his cheek, immediately questioning if I should have gone for it and brushed my mouth to his.
“Shall we?” He motioned to the door. Our arms grazed periodically as we made our way to the exit and the bustling street beyond. As we waited for the car to arrive, he spoke in my ear. “What’s at the bottom of the ocean and shivers?”
I tipped up my chin, awaiting the punch line.
“A nervous wreck.”
I rolled my eyes, my lips quirking. “A joke already?”
“You like my jokes.” He held the door of the car for me to slide in. Once he was settled next to me, he added, “And I was nervous to see you again.”
“Me, too,” I admitted as I gave the driver the address of the restaurant.
“And now?” He raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch.
“The joke helped.” I downshifted into small talk and kept reminding myself it was a bad idea to reach across the seat and pull his face to mine.
The restaurant was cozy without feeling claustrophobic. We settled at a table near the back, the lighting low while soft music hummed under the muted buzz of a multitude of private conversations. My knee bounced under the table, and we ordered wine. I set a hard limit of two glasses and renewed my commitment to avoiding gin. Though, after a few beats of awkward silence, I wondered if I should up my consumption of liquid courage. Does he want sex or something more? Instead, I said, “I googled you. You didn’t tell me you were such a big deal.” That was an understatement. Hundreds of results popped up, heralding him as some kind of virtuoso who’d consulted all over the world. From what I could decode from the financial jargon, he sounded like the second coming of Alexander Hamilton.
“I assumed searching was against the rules,” he said. “What if you saw something you didn’t like, and I wasn’t able to explain?”
“I already know about your hemorrhoids, your wife, and the librarians. What more could there be for me to learn? That said, you didn’t tell me you were the guy.”
“I’m not the guy. Just a guy. I did well at my last firm, but running our own shop is a whole new challenge. I enjoy it, but Thurmond is one of our first big accounts, and, I’ll admit, we need it to go well.”
Some of it going well is recommending people get fired, right? I pushed down the thought.
“I haven’t searched for you yet,” he said, shifting focus from himself and sipping his wine. “What will I find?”
“Are you worried?” There wasn’t much to find about Naya Turner. I was more concerned that he’d learn how unremarkable I was.
“No, but can you give me a hint? You don’t run a drug cartel on the side or have a thriving porn career to fund your research, do you? Not deal breakers. I’d just like to be prepared.”
“I gave up the cartel months ago. Who has the time?” My joke earned me a chuckle, and my knee stopped shaking under the table. I loved that he appreciated my sense of humor. I could be silly with him. “I think you’ll mostly find work things.”
“That’s okay—we haven’t talked about work yet.”