“Okay,” I say instead. “I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.”
I slip into my bedroom, grabbing a spare pillow and an extra set of sheets from my closet. But when I return a few minutes later, Jake is already fast asleep on the sofa. He’s taken off his shirt, and I can see his bare chest rising and falling slowly beneath the throw blanket he’s wrapped around himself.
I stand there for a minute, studying his silhouette in the darkness.
“Goodnight, Jake,” I whisper.
Heavy with fatigue, I tiptoe back to my bedroom and slide backinto bed. A trickle of cool night air drifts through the window, and I bring the comforter up to my chin. But try as I might, it’s impossible to fall asleep knowing Jake is just outside my door. A million thoughts race through my brain, competing for my attention.
Am I making a huge mistake? Why did I let him stay here?I’m not usually such a pushover, and frankly, I’m annoyed that Jake has brought out this side of me. But there was something about his wide, sorrowful eyes and trembling hands that got under my skin.
At first, I thought I wanted him here so we could talk in the morning. I wanted to make him explain himself. But now, I’m not sure I’m prepared to hear what he has to say. Or if he even deserves the opportunity.
I need a distraction. Climbing out of bed, I grab the bag of clean laundry that was delivered two days ago. I’ve been too busy to put it away, and the clothes have gotten wrinkled from so many days stuffed in the corner. The rhythm of folding my T-shirts and stacking them in a tidy pile soothes me, and I feel myself begin to relax as I sort through my thoughts one at a time.
I’m still so angry at Jake for not calling me. I might not have been able to reach him, but he had my number. Would it really have been so hard to take five minutes to let me know what was going on?
When I finish with the T-shirts, I move on to my underwear, folding them evenly into thirds. And why did he come back now? He’s had plenty of time to reach out. What changed?
A nasty voice in the back of my head answers for me.You inspired the song that catapulted him to stardom. He’s back for more material.
Yet one thought keeps echoing in my head, louder than all the others. Jake’s sad, defeated voice:I started asking myself: When was the last time you were happy? And the next thing I knew, I was standing outside your apartment building. I hate the way my heart flutters at the sentiment, the way his words make me want to forget every other nagging feeling. For so long, I’ve wondered if Jake was thinkingabout me too. Now I know for sure. I’m not the only one who has wondered what might have been.
It’s a comforting thought, one that finally relaxes me. After placing each pile of laundry into my dresser, I crawl back into bed and sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.
WHEN MY ALARM GOESoff at 7A.M., my body feels like it’s filled with sand. I sit up with a groan, rubbing sleep from my eyes. All at once, the events of last night come flooding back to me.Jake.
Suddenly wide awake, I leap out of bed and throw on a pair of sweats. Then I step into the hallway, gently pulling the door shut behind me. The first thing I hear is the sound of the shower. My eyes dart to the sofa. It’s empty.
I head toward the bathroom and nearly collide with Ali. She’s wearing the pajama pants and fuzzy socks she keeps in my guest room, and worst of all, a concert tee with Jake’s face sprawled across it.Shit. I totally forgot she was here.
“Well, well, well,” she says smugly, drawing out each word. “I do believe someone had a gentleman caller in the wee hours of the night. One who is currently hogging the bathroom, no less. Care to explain yourself, young lady?”
My pulse quickens. What should I say? Ali scans my face, then her eyes widen. Her mouth drops open into a perfectO. Her face is sparkling with excitement.
“Oh my god. It’s that guy from the bar, isn’t it?” When my silence confirms it, she claps a hand over her mouth.
“You little minx! I can’t believe you are giving him another chance. Seriously, I cannot wait to meet the person who corrupted my straitlaced little Lexi.” She twists her body, trying to elbow her way past me, and I thrust out a hand to stop her.
“Wait, Ali, you don’t understand—”
Before I can finish my thought, the bathroom door creaksopen, and Jake’s figure fills the doorway. My mouth instantly goes dry at the sight of him. His long, toned chest is flecked with tiny droplets of water, the lower half of his hip bones disappearing under the towel wrapped loosely around his waist.
A guttural noise behind me snaps me out of my reverie, and I twist my head to look at Ali. Her jaw is hanging open, her eyes bulging. Turning back at Jake, I see the faintest hint of a smile playing in the corners of his lips.
“Cool shirt,” he says, lifting one eyebrow. Ali says nothing, her mouth still gaping as the color drains from her face.
Jake redirects his attention to me, jerking his thumb toward my bedroom. “Is it okay if I get dressed in there?” I nod as he slides past me. The door shuts behind him, and I hear his muffled footsteps across the wooden floor.
Ali stares at the closed door for a full minute before turning to face me. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. After a moment, she pivots on her heel and returns to the guest room. I groan as she shuts the door behind her. So far, this is going splendidly.
I’ve just finished brewing coffee when Jake pads into the kitchen dressed in a navy hoodie and a pair of gray cotton pants he must have pulled from his duffel. His hair is damp against his forehead, and I can smell the scent of soap on his skin from across the room.
“Hey,” he says, eyeing me tentatively.
“Morning.” I shoot him a half smile, and he visibly relaxes. He slides onto the island stool across from me, and I hand him a warm mug. Half coffee, half milk. Just the way he likes it.
“I was just getting ready to make pancakes for Ali,” I say. “You hungry?” Jake’s face splits into a grin, his dimple popping. “Always.”
