Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(17)

“How long were you and your boyfriend together?” he asks.

“Almost six years.”

“Were you the one who ended it?”

I think about his question for a moment. From the outside looking in, I’d say I was. But being in it…I’m not so sure. “I don’t know,” I admit. “He fell in love with another girl. And it wasn’t like it was some torrid, scandalous affair. He’s a good person and he would have chosen me in the end. But he would have chosen me for the wrong reasons.”

Jake looks surprised. “He cheated on you?”

I hate that word. I find myself shaking my head, even though he did. Ridge cheated on me. It makes him sound malicious, which he is not. “Cheating is such an ugly term to describe what happened.” I think about it for a moment as I stir my straw around in my glass. Then I look up at Jake and say, “He…connected with someone else on a deeper level, I think. To call him a cheater feels like an insult he doesn’t deserve. He crossed a line with someone he connected with. We’ll just leave it at that.”

Jake watches me for a moment, reading my expression. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just find it fascinating that you don’t sound like you hate him.”

I smile. “He’s one of my best friends. And he tried to do the right thing. But sometimes the wrong thing is the right thing.”

Jake fights a smile, like he’s impressed with this conversation, but he doesn’t want to show it. I like that. I like how interesting he is. And I like that he seems to find me interesting.

He’s still staring, like he wants to hear more, so I continue. “Ridge writes lyrics for a band. About two years ago, the band released a new song, and I’ll never forget the first time I heard it. Ridge always sent me the songs ahead of their release, but for some reason, he never sent me this particular song. After I downloaded it and listened to it, I immediately knew why he never sent it. It’s because he wrote it about us.”

“A love song?”

I shake my head. “No. It was kind of the opposite. Sort of a falling-out-of-love song, about a couple who needed to move on from each other but didn’t know how. It wasn’t until I heard that song that I realized he felt the same way I did. But neither of us were in a place to admit that to each other at the time.”

“Did you ever ask him about it?”

“No. I didn’t have to. I knew it was about me as soon as I heard the first line.”

“What was the line?”

“I keep on wondering why I can’t say bye to you.”

“Wow,” Jake says, leaning back. “That’s definitely telling.”

I nod. “I don’t know why we waited so long after that to end it. I guess it’s like you said. Things between us were good, but I knew he’d found something great in another girl. And he deserved better than just good.”

Jake’s expression is stoic as he watches me silently for a few seconds. But then he smiles with a shake of his head. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

He makes a face like he’s impressed. “You’re a little young to have life figured out so well.”

His compliment makes me smile. “Yeah, well, I have a shorter life span than everyone else. I have to cram a lot into a smaller timeframe.”

I almost regret making a joke about having a terminal illness, but it doesn’t dismay him at all. In fact, it makes him smile. God, I hate how much I like him already.

“Is this your first date since Ridge?” he asks. I nod, and he says, “Mine, too.”

I think about that for a moment. If he hasn’t dated since his breakup, that means he hasn’t dated another girl since high school. And I probably shouldn’t open my mouth, but the sentence is already coming out. “If you dated your ex for twelve years, that means you’ve only been with—”

“Her,” he says, matter-of-fact. “That is correct.”

And here we are, somehow discussing sexual partners over dinner on a first date. And somehow, the conversation isn’t at all uncomfortable. Conversation with him has been great, actually. There hasn’t been a lull all night. Not even while I was driving his car 100 miles per hour in circles around a racetrack.

There also hasn’t been a lull in our chemistry. There were a couple of times tonight when I thought he might kiss me—and I absolutely would have let him—but he’d grin and step away from me like he enjoys the feeling of torture. I guess that would make sense. He’s an adrenaline junkie. Adrenaline and attraction feel very closely related.

He’s staring at me right now, and I’m staring at him, and I don’t know exactly what it is that’s taken over me at the moment. A little bit of adrenaline. Attraction. Maybe even infatuation. Whatever it is, I have a bad feeling about it. I don’t know Jake well enough, but I think the intense look on his face suggests he feels it too.

I break eye contact with him and clear my throat. “Jake…” I lift my eyes, meeting his stare again. “I don’t want a relationship. At all. Not even remotely.”

My words have no visible impact on him. He simply presses his lips together and then, a moment later, asks, “What do you want?”

I lift my shoulders in a slow, unsure shrug. “I don’t know,” I say, dropping my shoulders again. “I wanted to have fun with you on our date. And I did. I am. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea if we go out again.”