off points on her fingers with the fork. “The mysteriously smiley, swoony mood from a couple weeks back that you again refused to talk about. And now a mysterious phone call that you again refuse to talk about.” She speared a snow pea and waved it. “I begin to see a pattern.”
“Pssh.” God, she hoped she wasn’t as obvious as all that. “The only pattern is that you’re paying entirely too much attention to my mood swings.”
“Ah, so you admit to having moods?”
“You are impossible.”
“Pass me another crab rangoon, Moody.”
They ate in companionable silence for a while, and Gabe began to hope that the conversation would move to other waters. She even managed to cram down a few pot stickers and a rice-clumped piece of cashew chicken.
“What’s his name?”
Rolling her eyes, she put down her chopsticks and gave up all hope of finishing her lunch. “Whose name?”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. “Look, this is nothing special. I have a…friend, I guess. He sometimes needs to get away from his life for a while, and I don’t mind having him around. Leave it at that.”
The eyebrow inched higher.
“What? That’s all there is to it. I haven’t told anyone about it because this is exactly the reaction I get.”
“Are you surprised? Geez, Gabe, you haven’t dated anyone of your own volition since I’ve known you, and you haven’t even accepted a blind date for a good year. Can you not understand why your friends want to know what you’re up to with some mystery guy?”
She tried hard not to squirm. “It’s…hard enough to explain to myself, okay? He’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met, but it’s not like that. We’re not dating. We’re not a couple. We’re just…”
“Fuck buddies?”
Wincing, she shifted in her chair. “I guess, though I’ve never liked that particular term.”
“Sounds like what you got, though.”
“Maybe it is.” She shrugged. “But it’s not like I’ll be introducing him around or taking him to family gatherings. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from him again.”
“Did you want to?”
She hedged. “I didn’t not want to.”
“So you did want to hear from him?”
Groaning, she repeatedly stabbed a chopstick into her rice. “You’re making too much of this. We have a good set-up going. Near perfect, actually. But that’s all it is.”
Cheryl shrugged, dropping her fork into an empty box. “Hey, so long as you’re happy and gettin’ a little on the side, I have no objections. Just don’t end up getting hurt. These things have a tendency to backfire on one side or the other.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Absolutely.” Now her friend was the uncomfortable one. Finally. “I tried it back in college. I fell in love. He didn’t. It was a mess, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
Piling her own trash, she found a smile. “You don’t have to worry about that from me, Cher. I don’t fall in love. Everyone knows that.”
Cheryl winked and stood, brushing at her skirt. “Stranger things have happened.”
The key lay right where she said it would, under the mat on the back steps. Jack let himself in, feeling a little sneaky even though he had permission to be here. Of course, he doubted she meant for him to stop by so early, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
He hoped.
Looking around, he realized he liked this house, though he’d only been here twice. He remembered dancing like an idiot in the kitchen and talking about her past at the dining room table. Carrying her up the spiral stairs. Watching her bake and admiring her patience. Watching her read while rocking lazily in the porch swing. Sleeping next to her. Waking up in the middle of the night to draw her close and smell the vanilla goodness of her.
Yeah, he liked this house. It already felt like home. But that was dangerous thinking, so he forcibly shook off the sappy memories.
Stashing his bag upstairs, he left his
“Pssh.” God, she hoped she wasn’t as obvious as all that. “The only pattern is that you’re paying entirely too much attention to my mood swings.”
“Ah, so you admit to having moods?”
“You are impossible.”
“Pass me another crab rangoon, Moody.”
They ate in companionable silence for a while, and Gabe began to hope that the conversation would move to other waters. She even managed to cram down a few pot stickers and a rice-clumped piece of cashew chicken.
“What’s his name?”
Rolling her eyes, she put down her chopsticks and gave up all hope of finishing her lunch. “Whose name?”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. “Look, this is nothing special. I have a…friend, I guess. He sometimes needs to get away from his life for a while, and I don’t mind having him around. Leave it at that.”
The eyebrow inched higher.
“What? That’s all there is to it. I haven’t told anyone about it because this is exactly the reaction I get.”
“Are you surprised? Geez, Gabe, you haven’t dated anyone of your own volition since I’ve known you, and you haven’t even accepted a blind date for a good year. Can you not understand why your friends want to know what you’re up to with some mystery guy?”
She tried hard not to squirm. “It’s…hard enough to explain to myself, okay? He’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met, but it’s not like that. We’re not dating. We’re not a couple. We’re just…”
“Fuck buddies?”
Wincing, she shifted in her chair. “I guess, though I’ve never liked that particular term.”
“Sounds like what you got, though.”
“Maybe it is.” She shrugged. “But it’s not like I’ll be introducing him around or taking him to family gatherings. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from him again.”
“Did you want to?”
She hedged. “I didn’t not want to.”
“So you did want to hear from him?”
Groaning, she repeatedly stabbed a chopstick into her rice. “You’re making too much of this. We have a good set-up going. Near perfect, actually. But that’s all it is.”
Cheryl shrugged, dropping her fork into an empty box. “Hey, so long as you’re happy and gettin’ a little on the side, I have no objections. Just don’t end up getting hurt. These things have a tendency to backfire on one side or the other.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Absolutely.” Now her friend was the uncomfortable one. Finally. “I tried it back in college. I fell in love. He didn’t. It was a mess, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
Piling her own trash, she found a smile. “You don’t have to worry about that from me, Cher. I don’t fall in love. Everyone knows that.”
Cheryl winked and stood, brushing at her skirt. “Stranger things have happened.”
The key lay right where she said it would, under the mat on the back steps. Jack let himself in, feeling a little sneaky even though he had permission to be here. Of course, he doubted she meant for him to stop by so early, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
He hoped.
Looking around, he realized he liked this house, though he’d only been here twice. He remembered dancing like an idiot in the kitchen and talking about her past at the dining room table. Carrying her up the spiral stairs. Watching her bake and admiring her patience. Watching her read while rocking lazily in the porch swing. Sleeping next to her. Waking up in the middle of the night to draw her close and smell the vanilla goodness of her.
Yeah, he liked this house. It already felt like home. But that was dangerous thinking, so he forcibly shook off the sappy memories.
Stashing his bag upstairs, he left his
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