“Hungry?” Jack asks, snarky as shit.
I want to respond with something tart (“No, my stomach’s learning a new language”), but since Lucas joined me and Avery while I was still nibbling, I never ate a proper dinner. My fridge is empty, and I’m fucking famished. After everything that happened tonight, what more does a girl have to lose?
“Actually, yeah. I could eat,” I say.
Jack is quiet for a moment, but then he says, almost sheepish, almost a question, “There’s a diner down the block.”
I squint one eye at him. I’m well aware of the places to eat in my neighborhood. Does he think this is news to me? Or is he thinking of coming with? I stand cautiously, and he stands, too. That answers that.
As we make our way down the creaking wood stairs, I find myself staring at his back, at the ridges and bulges of his shoulders, at his solid form. An uncomfortable warmth spreads through me at the thought he was trying—soclumsily—to defend me.I was warning him offbe damned. A voice in the back of my mind reminds me that he’d have to be a total villain to hear what he heard andnottry to stop it. I shush it.
Let me have this. Just for a bit.
The diner is swathed in silver and shades of red and reeks, in the best, most delicious way possible, of grease. We grab a booth, and a waitress approaches to hand us menus. I notice her eyes taking us in—me still in my work dress with wild hair in tangles down my back, and Jack in his construction clothes, patches of white dust all over. To her credit, or maybe because she’s seen plenty of weird crap on her late-night shifts, not even an eyelash flutter betrays her thoughts.
“Pancakes,” Jack says, without cracking the menu open. “And a vanilla shake. No whipped cream.” I raise a brow, and he shrugs. “Comfort food.”
“Pastrami Reuben. Dressing on the side. With french fries,” I say to the waitress, raising my voice to be heard over the outburst of raucous laughter from some college kids at a nearby table. I hand her both menus. “Comfort food,” I agree.
“For an O-lineman.” Jack’s knee bounces under the table, the subtle vibration of the table and his shifting giving it away. He has a pensive look to him, too.
“What is it?”
“Do you think your actor broke his jaw?” Jack asks.
“Oh, are you afraid you went too far trying to ruin my date? You sure saved him from me. Only took breaking his face to do it.”
His jaw tightens, and I sigh.
“He isn’t my actor, and it wasn’t a date. Poor guy was just picking up a script. And I don’t know if he broke his… God, I hope not.” Culpability stings its way through me. I pluck a sugar packet from the container on the table and toy with it. The babble wins a hard-fought battle. “If he did, I can always just break your girlfriend Yelena’s arm or something. Then we’d be even.”
Jack’s knee goes still. His expression is almost entirely blank, except for a slight shake of his head. And then, “I’m not with Yelena.”
“She was at your place. Late.”
“Finishing the appraisal. I had to beg her to come and do it outside of work hours because I had a financing thing to contend with.”
It’s as if a boulder guarding the entrance to my heart has been shoved aside, allowing radiant heat to seep in. I have to stop myself from beaming with joy. Instead, I force a casual tone. “You shouldn’t feel bad. Just like me scaring Yelena through The Hole was partially on you, this… This was on me. I didn’t know you’d be there. Or, if you were, that you’d still be up.”But I’d hoped because I’m immature and wanted you to be jealous.“And even then, I didn’t think about the stuff we were saying, really, or what it might sound like to someone overhearing.”
“You didn’t think I’d still be up? When you told your mom—” Jack stops talking abruptly and wipes a hand over his mouth. “I was demoing the wall and…lost track of time. And you can’t absolve me of blame. That fight—”
“First of all, the only fights I saw were between you and a sheet, and between Lucas and The Hole.”
“Hilarious,” he says flatly.
“And second of all…I’m not trying to absolve you of guilt. I’m just owning up to my part. I chose the scene we read. At random, but still. I…” I grimace and trail off. I look down at my phone on my lap, noting that Margie has called. I make a mental note to call her back and type out a quick text to Lucas, who will probably regret putting his number in my phone back at La’s:
I hope you’re okay. Let me know what they say at the hospital. It’s Penny, by the way.
When I raise my eyes, Jack is watching me intently. I sigh. “So, yeah. Not all on you.Althoughthis wouldn’t have happened if you’d kept your promise not to listen through the wall anymore.”
He grunts.
I bite back a smile. “I’m not just talking about you listening when Lucas was there. You heard me talking to my mom?”
“I wasn’t trying to. I told you I’d make an effort not to listen. Kind of hard, though, when you’re constantly blasting your phone on speaker and you’ve got the vocal subtlety of a bullhorn. Why did you tell her you’ve been with the actor for months if you’re not dating?”
“I didn’t. I never said Lucas’s name. I made up a relationship so she’d stop trying to set me up. It was just a coincidence that Lucas came back with me to pick up his script.”
