I love watching Jared’s eyes sparkle, and the way his large hands gesture as he tells me the story about the man who gothis toe stuck in a bathtub faucet while trying to prove to his girlfriend he was still flexible enough to do yoga.
When it’s my turn to tell him funny stories from the vet clinic, he listens to me like nothing is more entertaining than discovering veterinary medicine is basically just working with creatures who eat their own vomit but somehow still manage to make humans look like idiots on a daily basis.
I remember this about Jared from when we were down the tomo. How he seemed actually interested in my answers, like my random thoughts mattered.
And who doesn’t like a man who remembers my cat’s name is Patches? And who laughs when I tell the latest story about how she dragged an entire rotisserie chicken through the cat flap and tried to bury it in my laundry basket like some kind of feline serial killer hiding evidence.
I suddenly realize the bacon and eggs are long gone, we’re on our second cup of coffee, and I’m potentially lingering longer than glitter after a craft project.
“I guess I better get going,” I say.
Jared stands and starts to clear the plates away from the table. “Yeah, I guess you better. Do you want me to order you an Uber?”
The fact that he’s prepared to pay for my ride home shows what an upstanding guy he is. Although I probably should already know that, given he risked his life to climb down a tomo to help me.
And now I’m about to show that I’m not quite as upstanding a guy as he is.
“Um…this is the part where I tell you another coincidence you might not believe.”
“What’s that?”
“I…uh…just moved into 2D down the hall.”
I manage to resist saying “surprise” and bringing out my jazz hands yet again. I really have to work on my impulse control when it comes to theatrical gestures.
The news that I’m his new neighbor doesn’t land how I want it to with Jared. He blanches, and I’m fairly sure the look in his eyes right now only has one name.
Panic.
He turns abruptly to the sink, dishes clattering louder than necessary as he dumps them in.
“So…um…I get it if you think it would be weird to hook up again,” I say quickly. “But I’ve just moved to Auckland, and I could really use a friend. If you’re open to auditioning for that role.”
God, I sound desperate. I’m not sure if that’s the best tactic for making him want to be friends with me.
He stops his assault on the sink and slowly turns to look at me.
“What’s the auditioning process like?” he asks finally. “Is it arduous?”
A small smile slides onto my face. “The audition itself isn’t too bad, but there’s a quite intensive training period that follows,” I say. “I’ve waived the final exam, though, because the pass rate was so low.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Okay, that’s good to know. Does my cooking you breakfast count as part of the training process?”
“Feeding me is definitely a good start.” I nod enthusiastically. “I’ll give you extra credit for making my egg yolks runny.”
“Good to know my runny yolks have secured my position. I was worried I’d have to break out my special pancake skills.”
“Oh, trust me, I saw enough of your special skills last night,” I say.
His eyes widen, which forces me to stammer. “Wait, that came out wrong. Or right. Actually, I’m not sure whether you want me to retract that or not?”
He laughs again.
If Jared’s voice is chocolate cake, his laugh is one of those amazingly gooey lava mud cakes with all the chocolate sauce in the middle.
Okay, I need to stop this analogy now to prevent myself from drooling. Because I get the feeling that excess saliva won’t help my cause of getting Jared to be my friend.
“I’m happy to take the compliment,” he says.
