Chapter 4

 

Lizzie

 

“What’s the problem?” Jax says as he brings the waitress over (she’s been staring at him since he turned up anyway). “Can I order a juice, or do I need something stronger?”

“He’ll take an orange juice,” I say to the waitress, eager to get rid of her so we can talk.

Yes, I’m about to ask Jax for advice on how I can keep James. Yes, I know asking Jax for relationship advice is like asking a tiger for anger management lessons. Yes, I know that asking for advice about a guy you met a few days ago seems a little premature.

But here’s the thing: I really like James, and I can’t shake the feeling that a guy as nice as him is way out of my league. Sooner or later I’m going to screw it up – I’m sure of that – but I’m hoping for the kind of screw-up I can apologize for with a nice card, not the kind that makes you avoid entire parts of the city in case you bump into someone.

“The problem is,” I say, after stammering and stuttering for a while, “You were right.”

Jax adds a raised eyebrow to his easygoing smirk.

I go on, “James really does have expectations.”

“What kind of expectations?”

“Well…he broke up with his last girlfriend because she cheated on him. So he’s really cautious. He keeps talking about settling down, and long-term goals, and all of this stuff. I don’t know, I just feel really out of my depth. It’s nowhere near as easy as it was with…”

“With me?” Jax says, and I almost feel like he enjoys saying the words.

“Yeah,” I say, lowering my head and hiding behind the cover of my dangling hair. “But it’s not supposed to be easy with him, is it? Because this is serious. Not like with you. I mean that’s why it was so easy, because it didn’t mean anything.” I sigh. “But this does.”

Jax just stares at me, and I wonder if I’ve misspoken. I blunder onward.

“Is this weird? You don’t mind me asking you this kind of stuff, do you? See, this is what I mean. I don’t have any idea what to do in these…complex social situations. I start panicking, and if I don’t bite my lip, I start rambling, and when I start rambling, I just dig myself in deeper, and then I just—”

“Relax,” Jax says, in his hypnotizingly deep voice. “It’s totally cool. We’re friends. Friends who just happen to have fucked each other in extremely awesome, extremely satisfying ways – but still just friends. If I can help you out, I’ll do it.”

Jax laughs a little at my squirming, and I can’t help laughing back. I guess Jax really is cool being friends after everything we did. Despite the fact that I keep second-guessing things. But if you think about it, it makes sense. Jax screws women like he’s trying to break a record. While most men would probably crumble after a week of as much fucking as Jax does, he just seems to want more. I guess to maintain that kind of carnal appetite you’ve got to be pretty good at detaching yourself.

The thought that there could have been something more between me and Jax had crossed my mind many times. The sex between us was on another level. It was easy to start feeling something for a guy when he’s so good at making you feel like that.

But Jax didn’t get that way by being monogamous. That feeling starts and ends in the bedroom for him. I’d have more luck taming wild lions than Jax – and probably less chance of getting hurt, too. Seeing him now, as cool, calm, and collected as ever, despite the fact that I’m asking him about a new boyfriend, makes me realize I made the right choice. Go me.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” I say. “You’re a life saver. I just…I really can’t afford to mess this up.”

Jax takes off his sunglasses and my heart skips a beat for a second. His eyes are like optical illusions; you could lose hours searching for a secret message in them. I’ve cracked ‘the Jax code’ already, though. It pretty much leads to the hottest sex of your life, and not much else.

“Wasn’t the whole point of our ‘arrangement’,” Jax says, “that you would be able to keep a guy when you met one you liked?”

I nod. “Yeah, that was the plan.”

“So how’s it working out so far? I’m sure you’ve done at least one thing right.” His playful tone takes the harsh out of the words, but what he’s implying is actually false.

“Well, we haven’t actually had sex yet,” I admit.

The waitress brings Jax’s orange juice but he’s giving me such an amazed expression he doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Hasn’t it been like, almost a week?”

“Five days. I know, it seems longer. I thought so too. But James isn’t like that. He’s sweet. He’s the kind of guy who waits for the right moment. And I guess it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Right,” Jax says, not hiding the fact he’s unconvinced.

“I mean, I just got out of a relationship that I was in for my entire adult life. I really don’t know about these things. I’ve never even really dated before. I have no idea what to do. What I’m supposed to do. What I’m not supposed to do. That’s why I’m asking you.”

I give him my best puppy-dog eyes, and he laughs.

“Ok,” he says, taking a sip of juice, “so he’s sweet. He likes the ‘special moments,’ he works in a hospital, coaches little league.” Jax pauses, thinking hard.

“Right. So?”

He shrugs. “So he’s pretty much the opposite of me.”

I take a few seconds to mull it over, then nod. “Yeah. He kinda is.”

Jax opens his arms wide and shrugs, like the answer’s obvious. “So just do the opposite of what you did with me.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, after struggling a little while to make sense of what he’s saying.

Jax leans forward and moves the salt and pepper shakers to the side, like he’s about to draw a diagram on the table.

“I like sexy women, right? I like women who look good, dress well. Women who smell good and talk fast. I like confident, smart women. Women who aren’t afraid of who they are. Women who can put up a fight for what they think – and keep up with me in bed. If James is the opposite of me, then you should be the opposite of that.”

I’m still wearing a confused expression. “Which is?”

“Well, look at how you’re dressed,” Jax says, leaning back and gesturing to the skirt I bought specifically for this lunch date with James, “that skirt is my kind of skirt. You’re showing those beautiful legs off like you’re looking for a guy like me to wrap them around. I see that skirt and my mind starts thinking about the soft skin on the inside of your thighs. You think James is thinking the same thing when he sees that?”

Tentatively I say, “No?”

“No. James sees a skirt like that and thinks ‘is that the kind of skirt the potential mother of my children should be wearing?’” He changes his attention to the other half of me. “Now look at that top.”

“This is just a plain white tank top!” I shoot bank indignantly.

“Which is very nice and acceptable on most women, but no offense, Lizzie, you wear a top like that and you look like you look like you’re showing off. I can see how firm your breasts are. I can almost taste them through that top, and that waistline is giving me high blood pressure. It’s too much.”

I look down at my clothes, pulling and stretching at my top, trying to cover up.

“You really think so?”

Jax nods. “The problem is that you’re too sexy for your own good. Now that’s great for a guy like me, but with a guy like James, that’s a problem.”

“Well how should I dress?” I say, sighing with defeat.

“Think about what you wanna project. James is looking for a woman who’s going to settle down and have kids. If you wanna let him know that you’re that kind of girl, you’ve got to dress like it.”

“You’re saying I should dress like a soccer mom?”

Jax gives me that shrug again, the one that says ‘of course.’

“Ok, yoga pants and hoodies it is,” I say, conceding Jax’s point. After all, that’s what I was wearing the first time I met James at the grocery store, and look where we are now. It makes perfect sense. “What about the other stuff? I mean, how should I act? What should I talk about? Should I try not to be funny?”

“Funny’s no good for James,” Jax says, taking another sip of juice. “Funny is the opposite of serious. And you’re looking to get serious with this guy, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Don’t be funny then. Every time you make a joke about something, it shows that you don’t take it seriously. You want to show you’ve got a sense of humor? Laugh at all his jokes, but don’t crack your own.”

“That kinda makes sense. But what should I be talking about then?”

Jax muses a little, smirks his smirk, and scratches at his stubble.

“There’s one thing about guys that every woman should know.” He leans forward, and I find myself leaning in, too.

“What is it?” I say, in a whisper. It really feels like Jax is giving me all the secrets of the male sex, and I feel like I should be taking notes.

Jax squirms a little like he’s considering whether he should really be divulging these military secrets, then he fixes those eyes on me again and forges ahead.

“Guys…like to get straight to the point.”

I wait for more, and when it doesn’t come I ask: “Uh. Is that it?”

“It sounds simple, right? But it’s not. As obvious as it is, most women don’t seem to know it. Look. What do you think I meet women for?”

“Sex.”

“Yeah. And I like women who don’t mess around. The chase is fun, sure, but when it comes down to it, a woman as single-minded and direct as me is irresistible. Now ask yourself: What does a guy like James want?”

I look up as I think about the question. “I guess he wants a sweet girl. Someone nice to spend time with.”

Jax squints at me and tilts his head. “Maybe.”

I try again. “A girl who’s reliable, loyal?”

He nods. “Closer.”

And then I get it. “A girl who’s good marriage material?”

“Bingo!”

I nod too, warming up to the idea. “Kids. A woman to build a family with.”

“Ding ding ding. That’s the jackpot.”

After a second I realize what Jax is saying. “Wait, you’re saying I should have a kid with James?”

He laughs, and if I wasn’t so focused, I’d be lost in the way his face lights up.

“Lizzie. No. I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt if he thinks you’re as ready as he is. Let him know that you’re ready for all the things he wants. Talk about how many kids you want. About how you’re looking for the white picket-fence with a freshly-mown lawn. About how you want to meet his mother and cook him pot roasts every Sunday. All the stuff a guy like him dreams about.”

I stare at my mineral water for about a minute, chewing over what Jax is saying. It’s hard to argue with it.

“You know, this is all pretty logical. I’m not sure if I can really do it, though. I mean, it seems dishonest. I’m not sure it’s…me.”

Jax nods sagely. “Well, that’s what they call a mismatch. But if you want the guy, you’ve got to take on his ambitions too. You have to speak his language.”

I spend another few seconds staring at my mineral water before my phone beeps. Picking it up, I see a message from my boss.

“Shit. I’m overdue at work. Hey, James is coming over to my place for dinner tonight. Would you mind if I text you? Just to ask for advice and stuff. ‘Emotional support,’ you know? You can be my coach,” I laugh, awkwardly.

“You’ve got my number.”

I pick up my bag and make to leave.

“I think you’re right,” I say with an appreciative smile, just before stepping away. “Thanks, Jax.”

“I just want what’s best for you.”

 

It’s nearly seven by the time I find clothes that fit Jax’s description in my wardrobe and don’t look like ratty old gym clothes. After realizing that I don’t own any skirts past knee-length, and no jeans that don’t hug my ass, I settle on a loose pair of slacks that my mother bought me two years ago, and that I’m way too polite to throw away. They make me look like I just lost twenty pounds and haven’t been clothes shopping since, but they definitely look more ‘soccer mom’ than anything else I’ve got. The top is easy, a loose cardigan that I’ve only really worn around the apartment when the AC gets too high. There’s no way James will be noticing my breasts in this thing.

I take one last look in the mirror: I’m definitely not sexy, but I definitely look like I’ve got kids. Perfect.

I make my way to the kitchen to check on the potato stew (Jax recommended plain, heavy food – makes people think of family at Christmas) and see that he’s texted me again.

Remember: no jokes. Be serious.

I text back quickly as I stir the boiling pot.

What if I can’t think of a topic to talk about?

Jax’s reply is almost immediate.

House prices. Dental plans. Retirement. Gas mileage. Anything you think is boring. Don’t forget. Kids kids kids.

I turn down the heat and run back into the dining room. I’ve been wondering whether I should put candles on the table for hours – but even that is too detailed to ask Jax about. I make a snap decision against them – better to play it safe – yank them off the table and stuff them in a cabinet.

The doorbell rings. Showtime.

My heart starts thumping at what feels like a thousand beats per minute. I hurry over to the door (which is easy in the low-heeled, square-toed shoes I’m wearing) and stop for a few moments in the hallway mirror so that I can tie my hair up in a tight bun.

I put my hand on the door handle, and take a deep breath. Here it is. The Lizzie that fantasies are made of.

I pull open the door and paste a smile on my face, heart pounding in my chest like an overloaded freight train that’s about to derail.

“Hey,” James says, before his eyes run down my outfit. I stand there, trembling as I wait for the moment of truth. “You look great,” he adds with a smile, and I relax, though James is the kind of guy who would say that even if I wore a trash can.

He’s not looking too bad himself, though it’s more because of his height and broad shoulders. He’s wearing beige slacks and a sweater that I’m sure I saw my uncle wearing last Christmas. Still, if I wanted a guy for his fashion sense I’d be spending the night with…No, don’t even think about that, Lizzie.

“Come in,” I say, standing aside.

James steps inside and goes to peck me on the cheek, but keeps pulling back as if he’s afraid. He does it a couple of times, his head going back and forth like a chicken, until I giggle a little, turn my head to the side, and make it easy for him. I barely feel his lips on my face.

“I got some wine,” he says, raising the bottle as we step inside the apartment.

“Oh, cool,” I say, taking it from him and looking it over.

“Yeah, uh…I don’t really know much about wine, though.”

“I usually just ask what’s good, myself.”

“So did I, but the guy recommended a bottle that was a hundred bucks. Isn’t that crazy?”

I nod and smile.

“So,” he continues, “I just grabbed a bottle that was under ten. I mean, it’s just wine, right?”

I giggle again. “Right. Dinner’s ready, so take a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

“Perfect. It smells de-lish.”

I get to the kitchen and breathe. Ok. Showtime. I check my phone in case Jax has texted, but there’s nothing, so I just go over what he told me. Future. Family. Boring stuff. Be the housewife. Be the good girl. It can’t be that hard, can it?

I lift the pot and bring it to the table, where James is already sitting with his hands on his lap, a napkin tucked into his sweater like a bib. Adorable.

“Potato stew, hope you like it,” I say brightly.

“Perfect!” James says again, smelling the heavy aroma and smiling genuinely. He laughs a little. He pretends to wipe his brow. “Phew! I was kinda worried you’d cook something spicy, or ‘exotic.’ I’m not that adventurous when it comes to food.”

“Really?” I try to sound surprised, but I’m not. Jax warned me about this.

“Yeah. I vomit any time I get near a chili pepper!”

I laugh as I settle down in my chair.

“One time,” James continues, “Oh God…this is a real funny story. This one time I was at a barbecue, and my friend had this home-made ketchup his wife had made. I tried a little – just one bite – and wow! Blew my head off! I don’t know what he put in it, it must have been a paprika or something. Next thing I know I’m puking everywhere!”

James laughs so hard I’m afraid he’ll knock the table over. I laugh along with him.

“Whoa!” I say. “In front of everybody?”

“Oh, no. No. I went to the bathroom. But still, jeez louise. I won’t forget that day anytime soon!”

I laugh a little again. I guess this is how real couples talk, sharing embarrassing stories and joking about them. It’s not exactly thrilling, but I’ll get used to it, I guess.

“Do you want some music?” I say, getting up a little.

“No. I’m not really into music,” James says, as he starts piling the stew onto his plate. “Although I do have this one CD that I like. It’s baseball chants throughout the years. Like live recordings. You should hear it, it’ll blow your mind!”

“Sounds great.” I try not to think about Jax’s impressive vinyl record collection (clearly the mark of a wayward man), or my own off-key radio station karaoke marathons during rush hour traffic. Guess that’ll be off the table for good if James is in the car with me.

“I’ll bring it over for you, we can listen to it together,” he says, with a small wink. I smile and brush my hair away from my eye.

“How about a toast?” I say, raising my glass.

“Good idea.”

“How about, to the ‘beauty of silence’?”

James rocks his head a little. “How about, to ‘baseball chants’?”

“Sure,” I laugh, and we clink glasses.

After a few minutes of eating I notice something in James’ face.

“Oh God, is there something wrong with the stew? You don’t like it?”

“Oh… Uh… No… It’s great. Honestly.”

I bite my lip.

“It’s just that…well, when my aunt makes potato stew she usually peels the skins, and she usually cooks them til they’re a bit more watery.”

My face falls. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“No… No. This is fine, seriously. I’ll get through it.” But I can tell by the way he’s chewing that he’s suffering. The recipe didn’t say to peel the potatoes!

“I have some more salad in the fridge if you—”

“Honestly, just leave it. It’s fine. Thank you for preparing it.” He makes a real effort at a smile, and I make a mental note to have our future dinners at restaurants.

I smile back and bite my lip even harder. Shit. Nice guys are way harder to impress than I thought. I turn around to look at the kitchen, and wonder if I should send Jax a message. I remember what he told me, and figure if ever there was a time to go all or nothing, this was it.

“You know, James, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“I know it’s kind of crazy. It’s just a thing I was wondering.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“You ever think about kids?”

James’ face lights up like I just gave him a ticket to Disneyland.

“I do. Yeah.”

I smile, feeling the tension ease. I’m finally doing something right.

“I’d like a bunch, myself,” I add.

“Really?” James says, putting down his fork and leaning forward. “Funny you should say that. I feel the same way.”

Bingo. Thanks, Jax. You’re doing it for me even when you’re not around.

Within minutes James and I are planning out a hypothetical future together, right down to where the safest place to put a swingset is, and which neighborhoods will offer the best rising market values for housing while still balancing the need for easy school transportation.

I get swept away into James’ world, where everything’s simple and nobody’s ever alone. By the time we finish talking the potato stew is lying cold and untouched on our plates, and there’s a weird energy between us like some deep connection has been made. But it’s after nine, and James says he’s getting tired. I’m disappointed he has to go so soon. Things were finally going smoothly.

I stand up and walk with James to the door. Every vein in my body is throbbing to be closer to him, every thought in my mind is crying out for me to stop him.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna stay a little longer? There’s still some of that wine left,” I ask, praying that I don’t come off too forward.

James shakes his head regretfully as he pulls on his coat.

“I’ve got work tomorrow. But I’ll call you for sure.”

I flash him my most inviting smile, and angle my body in a way that says much more than words ever could. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m wearing several layers of the most ill-fitting stuff I can find, or maybe James really is just that kind of guy, but he doesn’t bat an eyelid. I’m about to give up when he says:

“Can I kiss you?”

The question catches me off guard. I haven’t been asked that question since I was in grade school, and even then it ended with the boy peeing himself.

“Sure,” I say, breathily, “you don’t need to ask.”

James smiles like he just got an extension to his stay at Disneyland and leans forward. I close my eyes, my lips wet with anticipation, my body ready to feel the force of his manliness.

His lips brush mine, then pull away.

“Was that okay?” he asks. “Are you…comfortable with what just happened?

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” What is he talking about? He barely touched me.

“Can I— well. Never mind. I should be off.” He reaches for the door knob.

“Wait!” I shout, grabbing his hand. “Can you what? Just say it.” I know he wants more—he has to. I know I do.

“I was going to ask if I could kiss you again. With my tongue.”

For a moment I’m too stunned to answer. I’ve never met a guy like this before, who asked for permission before making every move and was so shy he practically couldn’t even get to first base. My heart wells up with how adorable it is. Awkward, yes, but also sweet. Instead of answering, I pull his face toward me and dip my tongue into his mouth, stroking it firmly against his in a way that says, I want you.

“Whoa, Lizzie!” James says, chuckling as he pushes me away and wipes off his lips. “I think that’s a little too fast, there.”

“Right. Sorry.” I blink at him, trying to smile through my upset. I’ve just seriously fucked this up, I know it. But he’s smiling at me as he squeezes my shoulder. He doesn’t seem upset, actually, just a little taken aback.

“No need to apologize. We’ll just have to talk it over first, next time. To make sure we’re both comfortable with the level of contact beforehand.”

“Right. Definitely. Got it,” I blurt.

We stare at each other for a moment and then he reaches for the door knob.

“Good night, Lizzie,” he says. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

I feel out of breath, and woozy from both the cheap wine and the lack of a proper conclusion.

“Night, James.”

I close the door behind him and lean back up against it. Despite my mess-up just now (well, and the potato problem earlier), the date couldn’t have gone better, and I’m happy as hell about it—but my body is aching for more, as if James just ran off with a crucial part of it. If James is trying to tease me to keep me interested then it’s working, ‘cause right now I’d follow him to hell and back to get the heat my body’s craving.

I stay like that for a while, trying to get my head around what just happened. Part of me is giddy with excitement at how good the date went, and the other part of me is just giddy. I clutch my hair and make my way to the kitchen, and then slump down at the table. I feel like it’s going to take one hell of a shower to get rid of the hotness between my legs. Either that or…

No. Shit. Got to get myself under control. I grab my wine glass, take a sip, wince at how bad it tastes, then gulp down the rest. The only thing Jax should be giving me right now is advice – however much I want the other thing he does so well.