“I can’t ask you to miss a whole weekend of work. That’s two bar shifts plus who knows how many orders.” The expected words fly out of his mouth, but the pleading look in those eyes lets me know what to do.
“What if I came with you on Thursday and then took an early train home Saturday morning? Then I’d only miss one bar shift, and I could still get deliveries done. Gemma and Harley will cover any for Friday. Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m framing all this as if it were a question. I’m coming, and I’ll figure shit out on my end. So don’t worry about that.” I suck in a breath. “Unless you totally don’t want me thereand are just trying to be polite, in which case I’ll obviously not intrude, because that’d be a lot even for me.”
A zing of tension buzzes between us and for a second, I think he might lean over and kiss me. I’m pretty sure I stop breathing altogether.
But Jack doesn’t lean in, only offers me a tiny grateful smile. “I’d really appreciate having you there with me. If you can make it work.”
“Um, hello, just call me Tim Gunn. Making it work is my middle name.” The alarm on my phone beeps. “Speaking of working, I’ve got to get back to it.”
Jack releases my hand and I miss his calming touch the second it’s gone. “Thanks, Sade.”
“Of course. What are roommates for?” I shove my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. “You heading home or sticking around? I’m not off for a couple of hours.”
He picks up his book again, flipping open the pages to his marked spot. “I’ll hang out if you don’t mind. I feel better when I can walk you home.” He’s not looking at me as he says this, eyes already scanning the words in front of him.
Which is good, because it might be the nicest thing a man has ever said to me and it takes just one breath before I realize (A) the men in my life have totally sucked, and (B) I have a super-big thing for my roommate.
Fuck.
“Okay, so the middle shelf of the fridge is the deliveries for Friday. Each one is labeled with a name and address. There are only four so itshouldn’t be too hard.” I turn the FaceTime screen away from the fridge and onto me. “You guys are the best and I love you so much.”
Harley waves her hand in herOh, stop it, youmotion. “Happy to help.”
Gemma jumps up behind her into the frame. “You can repay us with all the hot goss you’re going to have about Jack when you get back.” When she makes kissy faces at me, I know she has truly absorbed the full energy of her students and there’s no more hope for her.
“Dude, shut the fuck up. He lives here.” I search around the kitchen like Jack might spring up from behind a counter, even though I know he’s safely tucked away in the basement, as always.
“While Gem’s delivery might be a little off, she does have a bit of a point. This is a big deal, Sadie. The man went from telling you nothing to asking you to go to his dead parents’ house with him.” Damn Harley and her stupid logic and reason.
“One, he didn’t ask, I offered. Two, we’re just friends. Three, I hate you both.” I longingly eye the wine cabinet. But it’s only noon, and we’re supposed to head out in an hour.
“Sorry, but Jack is too hot for all that just-friends nonsense.” Gemma nudges Harley to the side so they can share the screen.
“If he’s too hot for just friends, then how come you’re just friends with him? How come I’m just friends with Nick?” I jog up the stairs so I can finish packing while we chat.
“Aw, you think my man is hot?”
“Nick practically has ‘My Type’ stamped on his forehead. If he weren’t so nice.” Propping my phone up on my pillows, I force them to watch me fold my clothes and stash them in my overnight bag. “Which is just another reason why this whole Jack thing is just an itch.”
Gemma raises her eyebrows up and down. “So is this the weekend you scratch it?”
“You guys are terrible, and I’m hanging up now. Text me if you have any delivery problems. Love you, bye!”
I close out the call before they can protest further.
I finish packing, throwing mostly lounging clothes in my bag, but also tucking in one decent outfit in case we end up going out for dinner or something. Hmm. Jack and I going out for dinner. Just the two of us.
My mind wanders off to picture what it’d be like to go on a date with Jack but snaps back when the man himself calls my name from the bottom of the stairs.
“Coming!” I throw in my iPad and laptop and chargers and zip up my bag before bounding down the steps. In the kitchen, I hoist up the reusable tote I’ve stuffed full of snacks, but no sooner does it land on my shoulder than Jack takes it from me.
He peers into the bag, poking around to see what I’ve brought. “You do know it’s a two-, three-hour drive at most, right?”
“You can never have too many snacks. Plus these have to last us the whole weekend.” I refuse to be snack shamed.
“Southport does have grocery stores.” Jack hefts the bag over his arm, gesturing me toward the front door.
We head out to the front stoop, Jack locking up behind us. He’s parked his rented compact SUV in front of the house, and we throw our bags in the backseat. I most definitely dig through the snack bag for the gummy bears before climbing into the passenger seat and buckling up.
