Chapter 10
The next day I meet Sarah for coffee. I arrive before she does and I grab a mochaccino for me and an Americano for her. She bursts into the coffee shop a few minutes later, a flurry of dark hair and long legs. She dumps her purse down onto the table and then flops into the chair across from me with a huff.
“You won’t believe the traffic today,” she moans. “I took a cab because I was running late and I thought it would be faster, but there was a water main break over on 47th or something? Cars backed up as far as you can see. Some very hot repair guys though,” she adds, but then wrinkles her nose. “Too bad they probably smell like the sewer.”
I suppress a smile. Leave it to Sarah to turn every situation into something about guys.
I nudge her Americano over towards her and she takes it gratefully, inhaling half of it in one gulp.
“Thank you,” she says, when she’s taken a breath. “You’re the best. Now … spill.”
“Spill what?” I ask, feigning innocence.
Sarah grins. “Come on, missy. I want to hear every single detail. How was the date?”
“Which one?” I grin playfully.
Sarah’s mouth drops open. “Wait, what? There’s been more than one date?”
I take a sip of my mochaccino, drawing the moment out. It isn’t often that I’m the one with a story and Sarah’s the one who has to wait patiently to hear it, so I want to savor the feeling for as long as I can. Sarah leans forward, her eyes bright.
“You tease. Just tell me!”
I laugh. “Fine. There’ve been two dates. And they’ve both been… incredible.” I can’t help the happy sigh that escapes my lips.
“Wow,” Sarah says. She takes a sip of her coffee. “So have you done it with him yet?”
I hesitate, then shake my head. “Not yet. I think it’s coming though. I mean, we’ve done just about everything but.”
Sarah squeezes her coffee cup. I expected her to be ecstatic — after all, she’s only been bugging me about cashing in my vee-card for the last five years — but instead she looks wary.
“What’s wrong?” I prod.
“Nothing,” She smiles, but there’s something forced about it. “I’m happy for you.”
“No, you’re not. What’s the problem?”
She shrugs and stares down at the liquid in her cup. “He’s just not… I don’t know. I guess I pictured you with some cute pastry school guy and not an ex-con.”
My smile drops. “You don’t approve.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not that, honestly. I’m just worried you’re going to get hurt.”
“Me too,” I admit, running my finger along the edge of my cup. “But it hasn’t been like that. He’s actually … sweet.”
“Sweet? He’s a convict.”
“It isn’t like that,” I insist again. Except of course, she’s right — he is a convict.
But that notion just doesn’t jive with the Jacob I’m getting to know. That Jacob is sweet, and thoughtful, and actually seems interested in me as a person. Sometimes the way he looks at me… well, it doesn’t feel anything like what I expected. The other day I’d been terrified to go to his penthouse… now I’m counting down the hours until I can see him again.
“So, when are you going to see him again?” Sarah asks, as if reading my mind.
“I don’t know,” I confess, shrugging. “He hasn’t called yet.”
After our trip to the Empire State Building, Jacob hadn’t made any other plans with me. There’s a little part of me that’s worried he’s already grown bored — maybe I’m not interesting enough or smart enough or beautiful enough to hold his attention for that long.
Sarah furrows her brow again, then shakes her head. “What’s his deal, anyway?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I stare forlornly down at my coffee cup.
Sarah looks as if she’s about to say something, but then she stops. She reaches out and wraps her hand around mine.
“You should have just gone home with that blonde guy from the club,” she says with a grin. “Clearly that would have been wayyyy less complicated.”
Then we’re both laughing, and I feel a rush of gratitude for Sarah, my best friend no matter how complicated things get.
—
I get home later that afternoon and find the house empty. What a surprise.
Dad’s been scarce ever since Friday, when I first left for my date. In a way, I’m relieved. I’ve always talked to him about everything, especially since Mom died, but this is one thing I have no idea how to tell him. A wave of guilt cuts through me, but I push it back down. After all, I don’t even know if Jacob and I are going to see each other again. I could be worrying for nothing.
I wander into the kitchen and dig a container of leftovers out of the fridge. I’d made dinner yesterday — pot roast, mashed potatoes, and boiled carrots — but judging by how much is still left over, I don’t think Dad’s touched any of it. I spoon out a bowl’s worth, shove it in the microwave, then shoot off a quick text to him, letting him know I’m home and that I hope we can catch up soon.
When the microwave beeps, I grab the plate out and head for the living room. I flick on the television and flop down on the couch to eat my dinner.
I’m zoning out on a rerun of Friends when my phone rings. I glance down, expecting it to be Dad or Sarah, and do a double take when I see Jacob’s name on the display.
I set my plate down on the coffee table and then try to frantically smooth my hair, as if Jacob can somehow see the frizziness from over the phone. I mute the television and jam the answer button on the phone.
“Hello?” I say, trying to sound as sophisticated as possible with that single word.
“Lily, hello.” His deep voice travels across the air waves and straight to my gut. I shift on the couch.
“Hello Jacob.”
“What time are your classes over on Friday?” he asks. I try to make out any background noises, wondering if he’s at home or at the office or out somewhere, but it’s completely silent on the other end of the line.
“I only have a morning class,” I say. “So around noon.”
“Good. Please text me the location of your class — I’ll pick you up there at noon.”
My heart is already starting to thud in my chest.
“Sure,” I say, swallowing. “What will we be doing?”
“You’ll see,” he says. He pauses for a moment. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
There’s something in his voice that sends a shiver down my spine. I try to think of something to say in response but my brain seems to have exited my body.
“You too,” I finally manage, but by then he’s already hung up.