Perfect. I spend the first four minutes attempting to find something to change into that says both “Let’s eat pizza”and “Please undress me”— just in case. I land on baby pink pajama shorts with mint green polka dots and a matching lace tank. I leave on the nude cotton bra and underwear I’m wearing because if my gut is right and this is just food, sexy lingerie is going to send entirely the wrong message.
The next three minutes I spend reapplying deodorant and my vanilla body spray and practically power washing my teeth. By the time I’m done freshening up, I get outside right as Jay steps out from his truck, pizza box in hand.
He’s wearing a gray t-shirt that says Monroe's Motors in navy across his perfect chest and another faded pair of jeans. He’s swapped his work boots for a pair of black Vans and although they look good, I can’t help butnotice that I kind of miss his usual style. His hair looks freshly cut and as he approaches, I smell his familiar scent, this time mixed with dough and mozzarella cheese. He smiles without showing his teeth but his eyes tell me he’s happy to be here — just one subtle gesture that I’m learning from a man who doesn’t say too much out loud.
“Wow." He looks me up and down. “You look…”
“Ready for bed?” I mean it critically but his face flushes and he tightens his jaw.
“Something like that.”
Now my face grows warm. The attraction between us is clearly there. That was evident from the night at Enzo’s. But the lack of drawstring in his pants tells me he isn’t just here for sex. Besides, would it even be a booty call if he brings me dinner first?
I stop overanalyzing and point over my shoulder. “Shall we?”
He looks me up and down again. “Let’s do it.”
The spot way below my belly button flips.Not “IT” you perv.I rip my mind from the gutter and lead him in.
When we get into my apartment, he looks around. Starting at the kitchen, he drops the pizza on the counter and then runs his hand across the small island. Next, he scans the living room, passing my couch and loveseat, touching a pillow on each as he goes. He peeks into the hallway bathroom and finally stops at my bedroom door. He sees the bed and then the connected door that leads to the full bath. His eyes are wide as he turns back to me leaning against the doorway.
“Claire, your apartment is huge.”
“Is it? It kind of feels a little tight if I have people over, but it does the job.” He laughs but his face says he’s a million miles away.
“This isn’t tight. Trust me.” I wish I knew where he went when he got like this.
“Well, thanks.” I smile and shrug my shoulders, not really sure what else to say.
“I livebehind Enzo’s.” He’s standing up now with both hands shoved in his pockets. I’m taken aback by how random his confession is but I try to just go with it.
“Oh, okay. I mean, that makes sense since I’ve seen you there more than once.”
“No, Claire, not like in a complex behind the building. I liveinEnzo’s. There’s an old utility closet that Ronan turned into a studio apartment if you can even call it that. And I live there. Like, behind the kitchen.”
My eyes squint as I take in what he says. After I’ve processed, the change in his demeanor makes much more sense. He’s here in my very decent apartment with one and a half bathrooms, two couches, and a queen-size bed, and he lives in a pizza shop owned by his best friend. By his body language alone, I can tell he was embarrassed to say it but my complaining about the size of my place didn’t help I’m sure.
I think about how to respond. From what I can tell, Jay isn’t looking for sympathy. In fact, he seems like the type who would hate it more than anything, but what am I supposed to say?“I’m happy for you and your glorified closet?”Where he lives doesn’t matter to me but it’s obviously a big deal to him.
I fix my face and take my foot out of my mouth, placing it back on the floor where it belongs. Walking over to him, I pull both of his arms from his pockets and take his hands in mine. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly as he waits expectedly for my response.
“Jay.” I pause for effect. “It won’t matter where you live if I die of starvation before I ever get to see it.”
He laughs, his mouth spreading into the biggest smile, before dropping his forehead to mine. We stand like that as he closes his eyes and lets out one last chuckle. I feel his shoulders relax and give his hands a small squeeze.
“Okay, fine,” he says as he stands up straight, maybe a little straighter than before. “Let’s eat.”
23
Jamison
Iflip open the pizza box, and Claire practically drools when she sees what’s inside. There are a few miscellaneous slices left over from today’s pies, and about half a Hawaiian that Mikey kept to the side for me when I texted him earlier tonight.
ME:Need a favor.
MIKEY:Fresh out of those.
ME:Funny. I need a pie after closing but at least a few have to be Hawaiian.
