“Speaking of which, I was wondering if you’d want to come in with me some time,” Jake says, shaking me out of my thoughts. I freeze mid-sip, studying him over the rim of my mug.
“To the studio?”
“Yeah, why not? I mean, that’s where I’m going to be spending most of my time over the next two months anyway, and it would be fun to show you what I do all day. Besides, I’d love to introduce you to everyone. Are you free tomorrow?”
I am curious how, exactly, Jake would introduce me. I mull it over for a second, my heart sinking when I remember tomorrow is Tuesday.
“I’m working tomorrow,” I reply, full of more regret than I care to admit.
“Oh, right. Of course.” He stares down into his mug.
“But I’m off on Thursday.”
Jake looks up and an exuberant grin stretches across his face. “All right. Thursday it is.”
We finish our coffee quickly, and when I leave the apartment fifteen minutes later, he’s back on the floor, this time in a push-up position.
Thankfully, Tuesday morning prep is busy enough to keep me from replaying the image of a shirtless Jake on my living room floor. It also means I’m able to avoid Ethan, which is ideal since I have no idea what to say to him.
When the kitchen finally slows around three, I slip out the service doors and meet Ali and Chloe at a park a few blocks away with a brown paper bag filled with lunch-service leftovers.
“Please tell me you brought burrata,” Chloe says, as she sits down beside me at the picnic table. “I’m having the sort of day that can only be rehabilitated by cheese.”
“Of course. I brought your favorite kind, the one with the pesto.” I reach into the paper bag and hand her a takeout container. She pops open the lid and lets out a contented sigh before digging a fork inside.
“What’s the matter, Chlo?” Ali asks between mouthfuls of pita and hummus. She’s seated across from us, her work clogs discarded beneath the park’s picnic table. “Chad still angling to get his DJ career off the ground?”
“I’ve squashed that one for now,” Chloe says, taking a sip of water. “Though I must say, he was a little too amenable to your suggested stage name of ‘DJ Douchebag.’”
Ali punches a victorious fist through the air as Chloe continues. “If anything, my efforts have backfired. My firm is so impressed with how well I handle that fuckboy they’ve assigned me another Bachelor Nation client.” She blows out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll never understand why anyone wants to date these people.”
“You are a poster child for performance punishment,” I remark.
“Speaking of dating.” Ali turns to me. “How was your date with the Pleasant Pâtissier?”
“Oh, um. It was… really nice.”
“Girl, rein it in! I can’t take the heat!” She shakes her head. “Seriously, how is it fair that you, a person who has relentlessly sworn off dating, is currently juggling two boyfriends, while I, a person who is extremely interested in finding love, remain painfully alone?”
“You are not alone!” I protest, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Besides, Ethan isn’t my boyfriend. And Jake…” I trailoff, unsure how to finish the thought. What are Jake and I, exactly? “Friends” just doesn’t feel like the right word.
Chloe turns to me. “Yes, what about Jake?” she asks. “Are you going to see him again?”
At the mention of his name, I avert my eyes to hide my burning cheeks. I can feel Chloe’s eyes boring into me, and I wonder why I’m even bothering to play it cool. For as long as I’ve known her, Chloe’s been a human bullshit detector. It’s one of the reasons she’s so good at her job.
“Actually… I saw him this morning. I figured he could use a break from all the hotels and traveling and stuff, so I invited him to stay with me for a little while.”
Ali practically chokes on her water, sending a spray of droplets across the grass. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and then stares at me, wide-eyed.
“I’m sorry. Jake Taylor, as in Grammy-nominated Best New Artist Jake Taylor, is currentlylivingwith you?”
“Is it necessary to use a superlativeeverytime you mention him?”
“Oh, Lexi.” Chloe tilts her head, regarding me closely. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
I shrug, avoiding her eyes. The fact is, it’s a horrible idea and we both know it. But no matter how hard common sense tries to wiggle its way into my brain, my heart is not ready to say goodbye. Not yet. I can’t even remember the last time I had as much fun as I did last night. Jake always brings out that side of me, the fun, flirty parts of myself that I usually keep buried.
“Okay, let me make sure I have this right,” Ali interjects. “You let a rock star with the body of a Marvel hero move into your apartment, and then you casually go to work this morning and leave him on your couch to write another ballad about his undying love for you, as if it were just a regular old Tuesday?”
