“How was your hot date?” asks Brittney, as we stand side by side, stacking up a load of clean dishes on the shelves behind the cafe display case.

“It went well,” I answer, unable to keep a huge grin off my face.

“Oh I know that smile. That’s the ‘I Totally Got Laid’ smile.”

Brittney sets the last plate down and leans against the prep counter. “Tell me everything,” she demands.

“It was just really...it was a really good date,” I begin, resigning myself to giving her the whole story. “I took him to my favourite cafe and we sat and talked for forever. Then he brought me to this park he likes and after that we walked around the city for a bit. I don’t know what it is, but we just get along so well. It all feels so easy with him, you know?”

Brittney raises her eyebrows at me. “Oh I bet you were easy with him.”

I smack her with the towel I have thrown over my shoulder and head back to the kitchen for another load of dishes.

“Come on, give me the dirty details!” she begs, trailing after me.

“Well, we did go back to his place after...”

“And he fucked your brains out?”

This girl sure is persistent.

“Yes Brittney, he fucked my brains out.”

She starts applauding and Lisa, who’s supervising today, gives us a look and shakes her head before turning back to the batter she’s mixing. Britney and I grab more dishes and head back to the front.

“So when are you seeing him again?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “To be honest, he’s been kind of distant since then.”

“Don’t worry about that. That’s just a game some guys like to play.”

I hope she’s wrong. I picture Jordan’s face when he asked me to trust him, and try to stop myself from doubting my answer.

“I’m really tired of games,” I tell Brittney.

“You just have to learn how to win. Then they’re fun,” she answers brightly.

“You’re a man eater, Brittney Larson,” I tease.

She nods solemnly. “With a healthy appetite.”

A rush of customers starts up soon after that, and any lingering doubts about Jordan get pushed to the back of my mind as I spend the next couple hours filling up endless takeaway cups for the caffeine deprived masses.

When I finally get a chance to take my lunch break, I grab the egg salad sandwich I brought from home and take a seat at the table closest to the window, doing my best to tune out the humming of the neon ‘Open’ sign overhead. I set my sandwich down in front of me and then check my phone. There’s a message from Jordan.

What time are you finished today?

I consider giving him the same sort of vague answer he’s been giving me. That’s probably what Brittney would advise, but like I told her, I’m done with games.

Three. I’m on the early morning shift this week (ugh) but I have to leave right away for Amanda.

The ‘Who Will Look After Amanda?’ problem has been getting harder and harder to solve. The centre my mom works at is low on staff, and trying to align her increasingly insane schedule with mine feels like mashing a square into a circle.

Mom has started looking into daycares, but even if the prices weren’t so daunting, one of us would still need to be around to drop Amanda off and pick her up. The fact that I even had a chance to go on one date with Jordan feels like some sort of miracle bestowed by the gods of time management.

I’m halfway through my sandwich when another text pops up.

Can you give me a few minutes? I need to see you.

Well this is a refreshing change. I send an answer off.

When you put it like that...meet me out back of the cafe at 3:15.

I start humming to myself as I finish the rest of my sandwich, buzzing like the sign over my head.

The end of the day can’t come fast enough, and so of course the rest of my shift drags along so slowly I can count every drop of coffee coming out of the espresso machine. Finally, Lisa tells me I’m good to clock out. I’ve told Brittney about Jordan’s text, and she flashes me a suggestive smile as I gather my things and head out the back door.

He’s already waiting, leaning up against the wall, and any plans I may have had to play it cool are wiped from my brain the moment I see him standing there. All the knots in me untangle themselves as he reaches out to wrap his arms around me.

“You really are such a stalk—”

I haven’t even finished my sentence when his lips meet with mine. At first I jerk my head back, startled, but he presses his mouth even harder against me and I let myself fall into the kiss, our mouths moving to the rhythm of a language only the two of us know.

I stretch my arms up to put them around his neck, and he slips his hands inside my open jacket, grasping me around the waist and drawing my body closer to his. There’s a heat growing between my legs already, and I thread my hands into his hair as he reaches down to grab my ass. I move my lips to his neck, needing to taste more of him.

“Hailey,” he breathes, “I have to see you again.”

“Want to see me now?” I ask, my mouth still brushing against his skin. I lower my arms to take his hands in mine and start moving them up to my chest.

He exhales and closes his eyes for a moment before focusing them on me.

“I have to tell you something.”

His tone jolts through me like a wrong note at a piano recital. I drop my hands from his.

“What is it?”

“It’s about...my dad.” He drops his arms to his side and glances away. “And my mom.”

His voice is hollow, defeated. He looks off into the distance, as if staring after a lifeboat that’s already slipped away.

“Jordan, are you okay?”

He focuses back on me, but his eyes still have the hopeless expression of someone who’s consigned themselves to drowning. Whatever he sees in my face, it isn’t enough to pull him back above the surface.

“I have to see you again,” he repeats, ignoring my question. “We need to talk, somewhere that isn’t here.”

“Of course,” I respond. I try not to sound panicked. “Did something bad happen?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m—”

He bites back whatever word he’s about to say next. I reach out for him, placing my hands on his shoulders and moving close enough that I can see myself reflected in his eyes. He looks away.

“You deserve so much better than me.” His voice is bitter, edged with caustic regret. Alarm bells start going off in my head. He still won’t look at me.

“Jordan, what’s going on?” I place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards mine. “Please. Tell me.”

He answers my question with one of his own. “Do you still trust me? The real me?”

I feel like he’s blindfolded me and spun me around before asking me to reach out and find him.

“I want to,” I admit. “I want to trust you.”

“Well that’s something,” he whispers, more to himself than to me.

I have him in my arms, his lips barely an inch from mine, but he’s miles away. I tip my head up and kiss him again, trying to close the distance. The heat between us grows quickly. He backs me against the wall and I cling to him, seeking a reassurance from his body that I can’t get from his words.

He claims my mouth with an urgency that leaves me breathless, as if he’s taking my air as his own. I feel his hands reach inside my jacket again and then slide up under my shirt, sending shockwaves scattering across my bare skin. He’s cold to the touch from standing outside, but his hands warm with the heat of my body. He slips them around to my back, digging into my ribs as he presses himself even harder against me.

“Jordan,” I sigh, breaking the kiss, “talk to me.”

He has his eyes closed, and he leans forward to touch his forehead against mine.

“Do you ever feel—”

He sucks his lip between his teeth and cuts himself off.

“Feel what?” I urge.

“Like you’re letting yourself down? Like you’re wasting the best parts of who you are?”

I have no idea what he’s getting at, but I close my eyes too and think about his words. I think about the afternoons I used to spend at Cuppa Joe, jotting down blog ideas in a notebook I haven’t touched for almost a year. I think about the dozens of business cards for food bloggers and cafe owners Mel’s collected for me, still sitting in a box in my closet. I think about all the ideas I’ve stored up inside me for so long they’ve gone stale.

“Yeah,” I answer him. “I do.”

He lifts his head up but keeps his arms wrapped around me. We both open our eyes.

“You make me feel like I don’t have to do that anymore. I just don’t know how yet.”

His voice sounds less like a soliloquy now, and more like he’s really talking to me. I take it as an encouraging sign.

“To be honest,” I tell him, “you’re really freaking me out.”

He cracks just a fraction of a smile, but it’s enough to start melting the block of dread that’s frozen in my chest. “I have a lot to explain. I want to do it right. That’s why I don’t want to talk here, when we’re so rushed.”

I nod, stroking the back of his neck with my thumb.

“I can probably see you on Thursday,” I tell him. “Where do you want to meet?”

“The park,” he answers, without hesitation. “Can you meet me there on Thursday evening?”

“Okay.”

He gives me a final kiss, grabbing onto my hips as the taste of him and the feel of his touch sends a thrill shooting through me, despite how incomprehensible this entire situation has become.

He steps back and stares into my eyes before giving a quick nod that serves as a goodbye. Watching him retreat towards the Knox building, I’m reminded of the first time he kissed me out here, leaving just as wordlessly.

* * *

I’m standing in my room on Thursday evening, once more contemplating my limited wardrobe options as I get ready to meet with Jordan, when I hear my mom let out a groan in the living room.

“What is it?” I yell.

“I just got called in,” she shouts back up at me.

I freeze in front of my mirror, holding a t-shirt in either hand.

“What?” I yell, louder this time, even though I’ve already heard her.

“I have to go in!”

I drop the shirts and thunder down the hall. “But it’s your day off!” I shout.

“It’s my on-call day,” she corrects me.

She’s sitting on the couch in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, holding Nemo on her lap. I can’t remember the last time I saw her in something other than loungewear or scrubs. She socializes even less than I do.

“But someone has to get Amanda from her science club,” I state, my hands on my hips.

My sister goes to a free science group run by the local community centre every other week. I usually find it adorably nerdy, but right now it might be about to ruin my day.

“Do you mind, honey?” sighs Mom. “It’s too late to call anyone else.”

“I kind of do mind,” I tell her, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. “I’m going on that date today, remember?”

Mom rubs her temples, sighing again.

“Right, right. Do you think you can reschedule?”

I feel something in me snap, something that’s been stretched past its breaking point for a long time.

“No Mom, I can’t. I can’t keep putting my life on hold for Amanda. I’m there for her every single day. I hardly ever ask for time to myself. I barely even have friends anymore. This date today is really important to me. I’m not going to miss it.” My tone is even and firm, but I can feel my hands starting to shake.

“I understand that,” answers Mom, “but that doesn’t change the fact that we can’t leave your sister at the community centre all night. If you really can’t miss this date, pick her up and take her with you.”

“I can’t take her with me! It’s a date.”

“Sure you can.” She’s already getting up from the couch, setting Nemo down on the floor and heading for her room.

“Can’t we just call a babysitter? I’ll pay for it! I’ll pay for her daycare, too. The only reason we can’t afford those things is because you won’t let me help.”

I hear my voice start to break, anger seeping through the cracks in my composure. Mom pauses in the hallway.

“Your money is going towards school, Hailey. My job is to take care of you and your sister. Your job is to take care of your education. We’ve discussed this before.”

“It’s my money. It’s my life.”

I know I sound like a petulant teenager, but the words I’ve wanted to say for so long are forcing their way out.

“It’s the life I gave you, and I want it to be the best it can be. You may not be able to see it yourself, but throwing away your chance at an education would be reckless and stupid, Hailey. As for looking after Amanda, we all have to make sacrifices and support each other if we want this family to work.”

“Amanda doesn’t make sacrifices,” I mutter.

Mom wheels around to face me.

“Amanda is seven years old,” she snaps. “I thought you were more mature than this, Hailey.”

“It’s hard to be mature when I still sleep in my childhood bedroom!” I shout. “I’m tired of this, Mom.”

I’ve rarely seen my mother angry; she’s usually too distracted or worn out to work herself up, but right now she looks like she’s fighting the urge to break something in half.

“Well so am I,” she glowers. “I’ve been tired for years, Hailey. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be anything other than exhausted. I’m working sixty hour weeks and I’m still barely able to put food on the table for my daughters. I haven’t finished paying off the divorce lawyers. I’m drowning in debt from paying for this place because I didn’t want you to have to grow up in a cramped two bedroom apartment, sharing a room with your baby sister. Sometimes I just want to collapse.”

She leans against the wall, as if she might fall over right then and there, but continues with her speech. “I have never regretted a moment of it, though, because everything I do is for my daughters. I live this way so that the two of you won’t have to. That’s why you need to go to school, Hailey. So you can have more than this.”

She gestures down at her sweatpants, at the tattered second-hand furniture in the living room.

“I hope you know that it hurts me to see you miss out on things. It hurts me to have to ask for your help time and time again. It’s not fair, I know that. One day I hope you can live the kind of life I’ve always wanted you to have, but right now I need you. Amanda needs you.”

There’s a part of me that still wants to shout at her, even as I stare at the dark circles under her eyes, at the creases in her face that are all much deeper than they should be. Part of me wants to tell her that I didn’t ask for any of this, but I know that neither did she.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’ll get Amanda today.”

I cross the room and wrap my arms around her waist, bending down to lay my head on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispers into my hair. “I’m sorry too.”

I let her go and she heads into her room to start getting ready. I return to my own room and grab my phone to call Jordan, figuring that will be easier than sending a flurry of texts. He picks up after the first ring.

“Hailey. Hi.”

My heart skips a beat at the sound of him saying my name.

“Hey. How are you?”

“I’ll be better when I see you,” he tells me, and while I’d smack him for being so cheesy if he were here, my heart decides to skip another beat all the same.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Um, so, plans have changed. I have to get my sister in an hour and meet you after that. I can be at the park for 7:30.” I decide to wait to tell him I also have to bring Amanda with me.

“Shit,” he swears into the phone. “I have to be gone by then.”

“Why?”

“It’s this...dinner...thing,” he responds.

I’m still on edge from the argument with my mom, and hearing yet another vague answer from him pushes all of my angry buttons.

“You keep asking me to trust you Jordan, but aside from the fact that you like designing apps and hate your job, you hardly tell me anything about your life. You can’t keep pulling me in and then pushing me away. I don’t want to be your distraction from your life; I want to be a part of it.”

I stop myself from going any further. The line goes silent as the impact of what I’ve just said hits us both.

“You already are.”

I feel a tightness in my chest at the sound of those words, and have to remind myself that I still have plenty of reasons to be mad.

“It doesn’t feel like it right now,” I reply.

He stays quiet for a moment.

“I have to go to this dinner being held by a client. I can’t miss it or my dad...” I can picture him scratching his head as he comes up with the rest of the words. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about this in person, but my dad has this...this image of me that he thinks is good for the company, and I’m scared it’s going to start damaging what’s between you and me.”

I let myself flop backwards onto my bed, relief and annoyance rushing through me in equal parts.

“Is that what all this is about?” I demand. “Jordan, if you think I’m going to stop wanting to see you because your dad makes you drive a BMW and live in a giant apartment, you’re wrong,”

He stays silent and I continue.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I do know what it’s like to have to meet your parents’ expectations. I’ve told you how my mom feels about me going to university, and you know how much time I have to spend looking after Amanda. I mean, I was going to have to bring her with me to see you today. Of course I understand that sometimes keeping your family happy means you have to do things you don’t really want to do.”

“You understand that?” he repeats.

“Yes,” I sigh, rolling my eyes, “I understand.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

I feel like I’m giving him a walkthrough on how communication works.

“Good. So next time you’re worried about something like this you’ll tell me, right? You’re not going to drag it out until I end up thinking you must have killed someone or something like that?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Jordan?” I prompt.

“Yes,” he says in a serious voice, “I’ll tell you. I do still want to talk to you in person, and soon.”

“I’m catering tomorrow. I can stop by your office, if you don’t mind talking there.”

“Let’s do that,” he agrees.

I decide to try to lighten the mood a bit. “I might even bring you a sweet treat, if I think you deserve it.”

I hear him snort into the phone. “Was that supposed to be a euphemism?”

“I mean, I was going to bring you a muffin,” I taunt, “but if there’s something else you’d rather have...”

“Where you’re concerned, definitely.”

We both laugh and then say a quick goodbye.

What an imbecile, I think, dropping my phone onto the mattress and smiling up at my ceiling.