His eyes hardened.
I pressed my lips together.
We were getting off track, and I wanted to stay on track, considering the questions I wanted to ask him. “Fine,” I said, waving my hand. “Your turn. Go.”
“How’d you almost drown?”
“It was at a birthday party. My mom thought my dad was watching me and he thought she was keeping an eye out.” I shrugged when I saw emotion shadow his face. “I don’t really remember it,” I continued, studying the bottle I was holding in my lap. “Apparently, I got into the deep end of the pool by myself and someone saw me at the bottom.”
“Jesus,” Jamie mumbled.
“When they got me out, I started throwing up water. I didn’t need CPR or anything, but my parents felt terrible. My mom still talks about it.” I looked up at him. “I didn’t get back in the pool again until I was nine.”
Jamie shook his head, then looked away, uttering a “fuck” under his breath. His jaw started twitching above the sharp angle in it, like he was gritting his teeth, and his nostrils were flaring with the forceful breaths he was taking in.
I didn’t understand why he was looking the way he was, like he wanted to punch my parents in the mouth for letting that incident happen in the first place, which was absurd. He couldn’t be feeling emotions that deep. It wasn’t possible. Why would Jamie care about something like that? About me like that?
No. I must’ve been reading him wrong. He didn’t care. I was sure of it. So I swallowed a mouthful of beer and moved us on to the next point.
“How long have you been trying to quit?”
Laughter rattled in his chest as he looked at the bottle he was gripping. “Wasn’t really tryin’ anymore. I gave it up two months ago.”
I felt my forehead tighten. “What?” I asked, leaning to the side so I could see more of his face. “What do you mean? You always have cigarettes with you.”
He shrugged. “Like a challenge. Keepin’ the stuff with me makes it harder to resist. Puts that need right in my face. I can’t avoid it.” Then he turned his head, keeping his body facing the bar and his elbows resting on the wood, and looked at me, not just at my eyes but at my whole face. My lips and the hair tickling my ear and my eyebrows. He looked at everything.
I straightened on my stool and started breathing slower. He should’ve stopped talking after that. Thinking back, I wished he would’ve.
Unfortunately, he had more to say.
“Harder it is to get somethin’ you want, the better it feels when you finally get it,” he added, letting his eyes settle somewhere between my chin and my cheek.
Was he … Did he mean …
No. He didn’t.
Jamie was talking about wanting to quit smoking real bad and feeling good about it when it finally happened. That’s what he meant. I was sure of it.
Only I wasn’t.
Not with the way he was suddenly staring at me. Intently, like he was conveying something else entirely.
I stared back while a funny sensation started fluttering in my stomach.
This was not good.
There were other factors contributing to this feeling and making it stick. Factors I was paying more attention to all of a sudden or giving attention to for the first time.
We were sitting close. I was wearing Jamie’s shirt. And he’d promised no one would see me when I was feeling vulnerable and made good on that promise.
Like he was protecting me. Like he actually cared.
A stupid person would think these factors meant something. That they were worthy of funny fluttering sensations and the attention I was giving them.
I was not a stupid person. And I wouldn’t let myself think like one. I couldn’t.
Only I was totally thinking like one. Which was why I didn’t just take a sip of my beer when I brought the bottle to my lips. I downed most of it.
“So,” I began after I’d finished swallowing, taking a few deep breaths and feeling the effects of the alcohol hitting hard. I looked at Jamie. “You quit smoking two months ago, and because of what happened with me, now you’re smoking again?”
My stomach tensed. I didn’t like being the reason for his slipup. I didn’t want to feel guilty when it came to Jamie.
I didn’t want to feel anything.
And knowing him, he’d hold this over my head until the day I was being lowered into the ground, making sure I felt it forever.
Jamie smirked, watching me take another generous drink. “Wouldn’t say I’m takin’ up the habit again,” he clarified. “Needed a smoke after that shit, so I had one. It is what it is.”
“And you’re not going to have another?” I asked, bringing the bottle back to my lap.
“I don’t know, Legs. You plannin’ on pissing me off any more today?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“That a yes?” he questioned after I didn’t respond, his full lips twisting into a smile.
“I just think it would be a shame to throw away the progress you’ve made. It’s impressive.” When his smile started growing, I quickly added, “And something a lot of people accomplish on a daily basis. Relax.”
“Right,” he mumbled, mouth still stretching wide.
He was enjoying this.
“Tons of people quit smoking, Jamie.”
“Sure they do.”
“You’re nothing special.”
“Think my mom will disagree with you on that.”
I rolled my eyes.
Jamie laughed with his bottle to his lips, tipped it back, and finished it, then gestured for two more after noticing how low I was getting on mine.
“The house,” he said after acknowledging the bartender with a jerk of his head and getting his new beer.
I finished off my Corona and swapped it out for the fresh one. “Huh?” I asked, not understanding his remark. “What house?”
“Got a pretty sick setup where you’re at, and you’re pullin’ in waitress pay,” he clarified.
I frowned. “Oh.”
“I know what a house like that is worth, so I’m just wondering how it’s even possible you’re livin’ there. What’s the deal? You livin’ off Daddy’s money or something?”
My mouth grew tight. Asshole. “Hey. Screw you,” I hissed. “That’s such a crap thing to say, you know that? And if that’s really what you think, then I don’t need to be sitting here with you either, shooting the shit or whatever the hell this is. I’m gone.”
I set my beer down, stood up, and reached for my bag, but before I could grab it, I was being spun around and directed back onto my stool with a firm hand on my hip.
“Sit,” Jamie ordered.
“No,” I snapped, wiggling and managing to get to my feet again. “Get your hands off me. I’m leaving.”
“You ain’t leavin’. Sit.”
He urged me onto the stool again, and this time, he did it with two hands, one on each hip, making my attempts at fighting back useless considering his strength versus mine. Then he kept his hands there, gripping me tightly as he leaned closer and put his face an inch away.
“You got a reason for what I just said pissin’ you off, and you’re gonna share that reason,” he informed me, his tone nonnegotiable. “Made an assumption and it’s one anyone would make considerin’ what you do for a living, babe, so quit with the tantrum. You know I dig your attitude but only when I’m askin’ for it. Now is not one of those times. And don’t fuckin’ forget why we’re sittin’ here in the first place, shootin’ the shit, as you so put it.”
I pressed my lips together.
We were getting off track, and I wanted to stay on track, considering the questions I wanted to ask him. “Fine,” I said, waving my hand. “Your turn. Go.”
“How’d you almost drown?”
“It was at a birthday party. My mom thought my dad was watching me and he thought she was keeping an eye out.” I shrugged when I saw emotion shadow his face. “I don’t really remember it,” I continued, studying the bottle I was holding in my lap. “Apparently, I got into the deep end of the pool by myself and someone saw me at the bottom.”
“Jesus,” Jamie mumbled.
“When they got me out, I started throwing up water. I didn’t need CPR or anything, but my parents felt terrible. My mom still talks about it.” I looked up at him. “I didn’t get back in the pool again until I was nine.”
Jamie shook his head, then looked away, uttering a “fuck” under his breath. His jaw started twitching above the sharp angle in it, like he was gritting his teeth, and his nostrils were flaring with the forceful breaths he was taking in.
I didn’t understand why he was looking the way he was, like he wanted to punch my parents in the mouth for letting that incident happen in the first place, which was absurd. He couldn’t be feeling emotions that deep. It wasn’t possible. Why would Jamie care about something like that? About me like that?
No. I must’ve been reading him wrong. He didn’t care. I was sure of it. So I swallowed a mouthful of beer and moved us on to the next point.
“How long have you been trying to quit?”
Laughter rattled in his chest as he looked at the bottle he was gripping. “Wasn’t really tryin’ anymore. I gave it up two months ago.”
I felt my forehead tighten. “What?” I asked, leaning to the side so I could see more of his face. “What do you mean? You always have cigarettes with you.”
He shrugged. “Like a challenge. Keepin’ the stuff with me makes it harder to resist. Puts that need right in my face. I can’t avoid it.” Then he turned his head, keeping his body facing the bar and his elbows resting on the wood, and looked at me, not just at my eyes but at my whole face. My lips and the hair tickling my ear and my eyebrows. He looked at everything.
I straightened on my stool and started breathing slower. He should’ve stopped talking after that. Thinking back, I wished he would’ve.
Unfortunately, he had more to say.
“Harder it is to get somethin’ you want, the better it feels when you finally get it,” he added, letting his eyes settle somewhere between my chin and my cheek.
Was he … Did he mean …
No. He didn’t.
Jamie was talking about wanting to quit smoking real bad and feeling good about it when it finally happened. That’s what he meant. I was sure of it.
Only I wasn’t.
Not with the way he was suddenly staring at me. Intently, like he was conveying something else entirely.
I stared back while a funny sensation started fluttering in my stomach.
This was not good.
There were other factors contributing to this feeling and making it stick. Factors I was paying more attention to all of a sudden or giving attention to for the first time.
We were sitting close. I was wearing Jamie’s shirt. And he’d promised no one would see me when I was feeling vulnerable and made good on that promise.
Like he was protecting me. Like he actually cared.
A stupid person would think these factors meant something. That they were worthy of funny fluttering sensations and the attention I was giving them.
I was not a stupid person. And I wouldn’t let myself think like one. I couldn’t.
Only I was totally thinking like one. Which was why I didn’t just take a sip of my beer when I brought the bottle to my lips. I downed most of it.
“So,” I began after I’d finished swallowing, taking a few deep breaths and feeling the effects of the alcohol hitting hard. I looked at Jamie. “You quit smoking two months ago, and because of what happened with me, now you’re smoking again?”
My stomach tensed. I didn’t like being the reason for his slipup. I didn’t want to feel guilty when it came to Jamie.
I didn’t want to feel anything.
And knowing him, he’d hold this over my head until the day I was being lowered into the ground, making sure I felt it forever.
Jamie smirked, watching me take another generous drink. “Wouldn’t say I’m takin’ up the habit again,” he clarified. “Needed a smoke after that shit, so I had one. It is what it is.”
“And you’re not going to have another?” I asked, bringing the bottle back to my lap.
“I don’t know, Legs. You plannin’ on pissing me off any more today?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“That a yes?” he questioned after I didn’t respond, his full lips twisting into a smile.
“I just think it would be a shame to throw away the progress you’ve made. It’s impressive.” When his smile started growing, I quickly added, “And something a lot of people accomplish on a daily basis. Relax.”
“Right,” he mumbled, mouth still stretching wide.
He was enjoying this.
“Tons of people quit smoking, Jamie.”
“Sure they do.”
“You’re nothing special.”
“Think my mom will disagree with you on that.”
I rolled my eyes.
Jamie laughed with his bottle to his lips, tipped it back, and finished it, then gestured for two more after noticing how low I was getting on mine.
“The house,” he said after acknowledging the bartender with a jerk of his head and getting his new beer.
I finished off my Corona and swapped it out for the fresh one. “Huh?” I asked, not understanding his remark. “What house?”
“Got a pretty sick setup where you’re at, and you’re pullin’ in waitress pay,” he clarified.
I frowned. “Oh.”
“I know what a house like that is worth, so I’m just wondering how it’s even possible you’re livin’ there. What’s the deal? You livin’ off Daddy’s money or something?”
My mouth grew tight. Asshole. “Hey. Screw you,” I hissed. “That’s such a crap thing to say, you know that? And if that’s really what you think, then I don’t need to be sitting here with you either, shooting the shit or whatever the hell this is. I’m gone.”
I set my beer down, stood up, and reached for my bag, but before I could grab it, I was being spun around and directed back onto my stool with a firm hand on my hip.
“Sit,” Jamie ordered.
“No,” I snapped, wiggling and managing to get to my feet again. “Get your hands off me. I’m leaving.”
“You ain’t leavin’. Sit.”
He urged me onto the stool again, and this time, he did it with two hands, one on each hip, making my attempts at fighting back useless considering his strength versus mine. Then he kept his hands there, gripping me tightly as he leaned closer and put his face an inch away.
“You got a reason for what I just said pissin’ you off, and you’re gonna share that reason,” he informed me, his tone nonnegotiable. “Made an assumption and it’s one anyone would make considerin’ what you do for a living, babe, so quit with the tantrum. You know I dig your attitude but only when I’m askin’ for it. Now is not one of those times. And don’t fuckin’ forget why we’re sittin’ here in the first place, shootin’ the shit, as you so put it.”
