Probably when I realized I have actual real-life feelings for one.
After our conversation the other week about my ex, Jim hasn’t brought up the idea of us. Or of a date. Which is good.
I think.
But hearing him talk about his relationship with Jackson, about the relationship hewantsto have with him, wanting to be involved in his life regardless of where we stand has made me nearly obsessed with him. My brain can’t focus on anything else besides wondering what it would be like to be together.
“Boo!”
I gasp at the sound, dropping my phone on my desk and jumping enough to bump a knee against the wood, cursing under my breath.
“Oh shit,” Jenna chirps, “that was a good one.” She walks further into my cubicle, reaching her freakishly long arm down to snatch the phone from my desk. I slap a hand out to block her, but she’s too quick, turning her back to me, swiping across the screen, and scrolling through my text messages.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
“Give me my phone, you brat.” I stand, grabbing her by the bicep and yanking her back to rip the phone from her grasp.
She chuckles, circling around to the opposite side of my desk, pulling out the bottom drawer to raid my secret candy stash. She rifles through the contents, pulling out two packs of twizzlers and slamming the door.
“Let’s go sit outside, take a break with me.”
“I already ate my lunch at my desk.”
She furrows her brow. “So? That means you can sit outside with me and enjoy yourself. Lainey is meeting us too for a few minutes. It’s bullshit we are all in the same building today and don’t get to see each other.” She slams the screen of my laptop closed and pushes my desk chair in. “Let’s go.Vámonos. You don’t even need your jacket, it’s gorgeous outside.”
With a reluctant sigh, I oblige, pausing only to grab my water and following Jenna out of the case management office doors and down the hall. We bypass the cafeteria, and my eyes quickly scan to see if he’s there, grabbing lunch, maybe a coffee refill.
“Do you need something?” Jenna gestures to the café doors. “Or are you just creeping to see if your man is in there?”
“He’s not my man,” I bite out.
She chuckles. “Sure he’s not. I’m sure you guys are just friends. Friends that see each other weekly, that spend entire weekends together, tha—”
“He had food poisoning!” I blurt out. “I wasn’t going to let him suffer.” But she’s not wrong. Something changed the other weekend when Jim was recovering at my house. I told him things about the weeks following my sister’s accident that I haven’t even told my two best friends. “Just friends” doesn’t feel like a big enough label for us. We aren’t dating, I don’t think. But he’s more than just my friend.
Seeing him give Jackson so much attention has me feeling all twisted up inside. When I watch them together, he's focused on a board game or teaching him the proper batting form. He sits alongside him coloring and seems truly locked into the moment. It’s made me reflect on myself and how even when I’m with Jackson, I don’t feelwithhim. My mind is always worried about the next thing. The next work shift. The next bill. The next phone call about my sister. The guilt has been eating me alive, and I don’t think I fully realized it until Jim came around.
We reach the courtyard doors and she opens one, standing to the side so I can go first. “If it was any other guy you’ve hung out with in the past, you would have never entertained the idea of him staying with you so you could take care of him. Honestly, you probably would have laughed if he suggested it.”
Ouch. She has a valid point. But ouch.
We find an empty bench under the shade of a crabapple tree, and I fall onto the wood, opening up my phone again to re-read my text message
Me: You should come over for dinner some night. If you’re free. If you want.
“If you want?” Jenna questions, leaning over my shoulder to read my message. “Pretty sure we all know he wants dinner. And he’d likely have you as his dessert.”
I scoff, swatting her in the arm with the back of my hand before saying screw it and hitting send before I rewrite the text for the fourth time.
“Who’s having Meg for dessert?” Lainey pipes up, rounding the back of the bench to sit on the other side of Jenna.
“Jim,” Jenna answers, at the same time I say “no one.”
“Ooooh have you guys finally done the deed?”
“Doubt it. I think Meg is going for the born-again virgin thing.”
“Fuck off. No, we aren't having sex,” I lie through gritted teeth. Technically we’ve had sex, but wecurrentlyaren’t having sex. So my lie isn’t exactly a lie.
