say thank you for yesterday,” he says softly.
“I know. You invited me for fried chicken.”
He looks up at me and shakes the hair out of his eyes as he chews. He swallows and takes a deep breath. Wow. I didn’t figure a guy like Jeremiah ever got nervous. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened between us on the trails last month.”
“It’s fine—”
“No, it’s not. I let things get out of hand…” Since when do guys fess up for having one-night stands? Or in our case, a one-morning stand. Does that mean he didn’t want to hook up with me? That makes me feel relieved…and a bit let down at the same time.
He drags a hand through his light brown hair. “After what happened between us, I was a little freaked out but really happy, and I asked Matt about you. Yeah, he doesn’t want me dating any of his clients, but I wanted to ask you out anyway—you’re totally worth the risk…and then he told me why you’re running a marathon.”
I don’t want him to spoil this peace I’ve discovered here. A place that has no memory of Kyle. “Jere, don’t. What happened between us was my fault. Please stop talking.”
He holds up a hand. “Let me just get this out. I’m so sorry, Annie. I’ve felt like shit since that day. I feel like, I dunno, I used you or something.”
“You didn’t. It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not.
He stretches his leg out and flexes his ankle. Then he speaks quietly, “I’ve thought a lot about you since we kissed…Honestly, I’ve thought a lot about you since the moment we met—”
“You didn’t call,” I say bluntly.
He nods sheepishly. “I wanted to ask you out. I couldn’t stop thinking about you—you don’t know how many times I started to text you but didn’t push send…I figured you were madder than a wet hen that I didn’t call, but my brother said I’m the last thing you need right now…It sucks what happened to your boyfriend.”
I look up at him. People usually say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and I get so sick of hearing that. It’s nice hearing Jeremiah tell the truth: it sucks. That’s all there is to it. Living with a hole in my life blows.
We finish our food, then he takes my paper plate and sets it on the little, wobbly table with his iced tea glass and newspaper. He looks at me sideways. “So if I were to call you—”
“You already did call me, remember? You woke me up at the ass crack of dawn and somehow convinced me to come check on you and your foot.”
He grins. “But if I called you for real…”
I clutch the swing, thinking of what happened on the banks of the Little Duck, how Jeremiah’s lips and hands set me on fire. But he waited an entire month to give me this speech. What if he waits another month before calling me again? Not to mention he’s into extremes and has that big scar along his jaw. That’s the last thing I need right now. I need white bread. I need vanilla. I don’t need a guy who hurts himself running on an injured ankle.
Speaking of extremes, I’ve seen Jeremiah naked, but this is only, like, the fifth conversation I’ve ever had with him. And the first real one. He is the weirdest guy I’ve ever met.
Jeremiah scooches closer on the swing, and with a finger and thumb, he lifts my strawberry blond braid and brings it to his lips. Does my hair smell like onions from the Roadhouse? He shyly presses his forehead to mine and his warm breath sends tingles down my neck. God, he smells good, like cologne and boy and the sun.
God , he’s making a move on me. I’m not ready for this with anybody. Plus, we’re not even alone. His little sister and dog are buzzing around. Not to mention his mom has a bunch of church ladies over. I press a restraining hand to his chest. “I can’t do this right now.”
“So I shouldn’t call you then?”
“You already did, genius.”
“But for real…”
I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know if I want to get close to
“I know. You invited me for fried chicken.”
He looks up at me and shakes the hair out of his eyes as he chews. He swallows and takes a deep breath. Wow. I didn’t figure a guy like Jeremiah ever got nervous. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened between us on the trails last month.”
“It’s fine—”
“No, it’s not. I let things get out of hand…” Since when do guys fess up for having one-night stands? Or in our case, a one-morning stand. Does that mean he didn’t want to hook up with me? That makes me feel relieved…and a bit let down at the same time.
He drags a hand through his light brown hair. “After what happened between us, I was a little freaked out but really happy, and I asked Matt about you. Yeah, he doesn’t want me dating any of his clients, but I wanted to ask you out anyway—you’re totally worth the risk…and then he told me why you’re running a marathon.”
I don’t want him to spoil this peace I’ve discovered here. A place that has no memory of Kyle. “Jere, don’t. What happened between us was my fault. Please stop talking.”
He holds up a hand. “Let me just get this out. I’m so sorry, Annie. I’ve felt like shit since that day. I feel like, I dunno, I used you or something.”
“You didn’t. It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not.
He stretches his leg out and flexes his ankle. Then he speaks quietly, “I’ve thought a lot about you since we kissed…Honestly, I’ve thought a lot about you since the moment we met—”
“You didn’t call,” I say bluntly.
He nods sheepishly. “I wanted to ask you out. I couldn’t stop thinking about you—you don’t know how many times I started to text you but didn’t push send…I figured you were madder than a wet hen that I didn’t call, but my brother said I’m the last thing you need right now…It sucks what happened to your boyfriend.”
I look up at him. People usually say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and I get so sick of hearing that. It’s nice hearing Jeremiah tell the truth: it sucks. That’s all there is to it. Living with a hole in my life blows.
We finish our food, then he takes my paper plate and sets it on the little, wobbly table with his iced tea glass and newspaper. He looks at me sideways. “So if I were to call you—”
“You already did call me, remember? You woke me up at the ass crack of dawn and somehow convinced me to come check on you and your foot.”
He grins. “But if I called you for real…”
I clutch the swing, thinking of what happened on the banks of the Little Duck, how Jeremiah’s lips and hands set me on fire. But he waited an entire month to give me this speech. What if he waits another month before calling me again? Not to mention he’s into extremes and has that big scar along his jaw. That’s the last thing I need right now. I need white bread. I need vanilla. I don’t need a guy who hurts himself running on an injured ankle.
Speaking of extremes, I’ve seen Jeremiah naked, but this is only, like, the fifth conversation I’ve ever had with him. And the first real one. He is the weirdest guy I’ve ever met.
Jeremiah scooches closer on the swing, and with a finger and thumb, he lifts my strawberry blond braid and brings it to his lips. Does my hair smell like onions from the Roadhouse? He shyly presses his forehead to mine and his warm breath sends tingles down my neck. God, he smells good, like cologne and boy and the sun.
God , he’s making a move on me. I’m not ready for this with anybody. Plus, we’re not even alone. His little sister and dog are buzzing around. Not to mention his mom has a bunch of church ladies over. I press a restraining hand to his chest. “I can’t do this right now.”
“So I shouldn’t call you then?”
“You already did, genius.”
“But for real…”
I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know if I want to get close to
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