Jim playfully winds up the towel and releases it. I barely move in time, the tip still slapping me on the hip.
“Ouch!” I fake injury. “That hurt!”
“Riiight,” he deadpans. “I took French twenty-five years ago, and only because my mom made me. They taught us the alphabet and how to count, and basic foods. Besides the book with the French prostitute, that’s all I remember. I can sing you the alphabet if you’d like.”
“Even though you don’t remember what it was about, did you likeLes Misérables?” Marissa and I had watched the movie a hundred times because she was always a fan of Hugh Jackman. She’d dance around the house, arms spread wide, singing “I Dream a Dream” at the top of her lungs. I’d roll my eyes, putmy headphones on and pretend to ignore her, but along with her talent for art, she was a wonderful singer.
What I wouldn’t give to hear her sing now.
We continue along as I rinse the rest of the plates, handing him one and taking the last one to dry it myself. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a live show like that. It’s kind of fun to get all dressed up, go to a nice dinner, have a cocktail beforehand.”
“Definitely.”
I turn my back to him, sliding the damp towel on the oven door, wondering how else I can goad him into finally asking me out. He hasn’t pressed, hasn’t tried to so much as touch me in a sexual way since the night the news broke. I think he’s giving me time, not wanting me to make any decisions out of vulnerability. I love this side of him, the nice guy side he shows, but I’m ready to see his darker side again. “Yeah, I think Ryan and Lainey’s wedding was the last time I’ve even been dressed up.” I turn back to him, grabbing my wine glass from the island and taking a slow, leisurely sip. “And that night…hmm,” I exhale softly. “That night was unforgettable.”
Jim’s ears perk up at the mention of that night. His eyes darken, and he takes another step towards me, and then another, nearly chest to chest in my small kitchen.
“I threw up that night!” Jackson calls from his spot on the couch.
I chuckle, taking another step closer to Jim but calling over to Jackson. “Sure did, buddy, I had to dance with Jim all night instead.”
“Poor you,” Jim mutters, a hand coming to squeeze my hip.
“Is Jim as good a dancer as me?” Jackson calls out, and we both break into a laugh at how oblivious he is.
“He’s not nearly as good a dancer as you are, bud,” I call over to Jackson before turning back to Jim, lowering my voice. “But he definitely has some moves.”
He leans in, ever so slightly, and instead of asking me out like I hoped he would, he plants a soft kiss to his favorite freckle underneath my eye. “I better get going, it’s getting late.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
He takes a step back, rounding the island to the living room, leaning over the back of the couch to pull Jackson in for a hug and a noogie. “Later, Jax.”
Jackson hops up, following Jim to the door. “You coming to my game this week?”
Jim grabs his ball cap from his hook by the door, pulling it on his head and adjusting the brim. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Hey buddy, I’m gonna step outside with Jim for a second, okay?”
Jim’s already waiting at the front door, one hand on the knob, the other out to draw me in once I’m within range. He keeps his arm slung over my shoulder until we reach his car door.
“Yeah I don’t know if you’d be interested, but we should go to thatLes Misshow. If you want. If you aren’t busy.”
He steps into my space, grabbing the brim of his ball cap and twisting it around his head with a smirk because the asshole knows exactly what that does to me. He leans in, kissing the freckle under my eye once more before he brings his hands to my face. He holds my cheeks in his palms for a beat before pressing his lips to mine.
My hands come up to grip the back of his biceps, inhaling sharply at the raw emotion in his touch.
He releases me and steps back, my eyes barely open before he has his car door open and is climbing in. “Yeah, maybe sometime, I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll think about it?” I yelp, taking a few steps to close the distance between us. He climbs in, slams the door and rolls the window down, a cocky grin on his face.
“Have something you want to say, Meg? I’m all ears.”
“No!” I cross my arms over my chest before huffing out a breath, letting my hands fall to my sides, shuffling my feet side to side before setting my hands on my hips. “Well are you ever going to man up and ask me out, or what? I mean…if you did, I’d probably say yes this time.”
“Is that right?” He smiles, putting his car into reverse but not moving. “You probably would?”
I rest my palms on the door, leaning my head into the cab to reach for his face. “That’s right.”
