Unbuttoning. He was unbuttoning. He wrests the white dress shirt off his shoulders and then pulls his undershirt over his head in one smooth motion. His shoulder muscles ripple as he pulls the shirt off. His smooth olive skin looks warm to the touch.
He reaches for his belt and yanks it out of its loops with a quick snap. And then his hands return to his middle, and his waistband goes slack.
My mouth goes dry.
“Hey, Jason Bourne. Your spy craft needs work,” he calls out.
I drop the sheet and lean back against the wall. Shiiiiit.
“I was just wondering what smelled like tuna fish in there,” I shout, my face contorted into a permanent cringe.
“Right.”
There’s a knock on Jack’s door, and I send a silent thank-you to whomever has chosen to enter Satan’s den. Until I hear a female voice.
10
“Jay!”
“Anna Banana, how’d you get in here?” Jack asks.
“Someone let me in. Here’s your banister hideaway key. I was going to let myself in and wait for you, but I figured knocking first was probably better. This hole is ridiculous!”
I lift the sheet in time to see Jack grabbing “Anna Banana” up in a huge hug, lifting her off the ground and pressing a kiss to her cheek. The look in his eye is undeniably warm, caring. My stomach turns as he beams down at her—tall as she is, he’s taller still—and he throws an arm over her shoulders, pulling her close.
“Yeah, it is. I— No! Get away from there!” he calls.
Anna has lifted the sheet and is surveying my apartment. I can’t make out her features, but her hair is in a ballerina bun, and her jaw is so defined it should be sold late nights on QVC as a steak knife. She doesn’t see me sitting on the floor, and I close my eyes, awaiting exposure. But it doesn’t come.
I hear them talking in there, and I stew, a fine head of rage building. Until I hear her ask, “Why’s it smell like…like tuna fish in here?”
I stifle a laugh. I thought he’d noticed what I’d done to his radiator, but I guess not.
Anna and Jack chat comfortably, though there’s a brief indication that there’s trouble in paradise when Anna recounts an argument with her friend and Jack tries to interject with advice.
“Yeah, I don’t need you to fix this, okay? Sometimes people just want you to listen. Not fix.Listen.” Anna’s voice betrays that this is a long-standing bone of contention.
“I’m not trying to fix it. I’m just saying, if I were you—”
I’m pacing and worried about drawing attention to myself by working on the wall when Avery shows up about an hour later. His hair is still damp from his after-work shower, and he’s in khakis and a blue button-down. If Margie was here, she’d have told him he looked like a lumberjack accountant here to tax my wall to pieces.
“I brought you food,” he says, waving a bag emblazoned with “La Taqueria,” the name of my favorite Mexican restaurant.
“You’re a good friend for many, many reasons, but your ability to know when my stomach is grumbling and my fridge is empty has got to be one of your best qualities. The girl who wins your heart is lucky.”
He smiles and sits next to me on the sofa, handing over my veggie tacos. “Speaking of love, Mom and Dad are looking forward to seeing you on Friday.”
“Me, too. They’re my faves. I can’t even imagine being married for that long. Fifty years!”
“Fifty-plus years with the same person sounds like heaven, if it’s the right person.”
I grunt, and Avery shakes his head. He knows why. My longest relationship didn’t make it past one year. And that was one goddamn contentious year.
Anna Banana laughs on the other side of the wall.
“What’s going on in there?” Avery gestures toward The Hole.
I just roll my eyes in answer and make a jerking-off motion.
