“It’s not diamonds or flower—”
She pulls back, cutting me off. “No. This is so much better.” Then something shifts in her expression. “My ex used to bring me flowers after every fight—like they could erase everything.” Her jaw hardens as she clutches the gifts in her lap. “Funny. My dad used to do the same to my mom. I hate them now,” she murmurs. “Jacob still hasn’t gotten the memo.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “Well, next time you get them, we can burn them straight to hell together. Or give them to me—I’ll regift them to my mother. She’d eat that shit up.”
She lets out a sigh and hugs me again. It should be quick, but she holds on a second too long. Her warmth presses into me, my heart slamming into my ribs. I hover awkwardly before I give her a tentative pat on the back.
“I’m sorry.” She hesitates, her cheeks flushing. "I’m a hugger. I mean… a toucher. It's… a friend hug.”
Fuck, I wish it was more than that. “Oh.” I raise an eyebrow. “So we’re friends now?”
One minute, I’m just a contractor. The next, she’s hugging me like we’re something more. Then, just as fast, her walls go up again. And mine seem to be falling down. Before I can finish teasing her, Louie walks in, keys dangling in his hand.
“Miss, your coconuts—I mean your car’s ready,” he says, far too chipper.
I groan, shooting him a glare. I knew I shouldn’t have told him that story.
Jenna laughs despite herself. “Thanks again, Dylan. For everything… including sharing my story.”
Her smile’s replaced by something more guarded. “But I don’t need any more complicated things in my life. I haven’t been friends with the male species since I was twelve. I also don’t talk about myself like this to anyone. Not even to Jacob. So maybe—”
She stops, frustrated, fidgeting with her bag.
“Okay.” It’s all I say, because anything more would be dangerous territory.
She reaches for her wallet, but I cover her hand lightly. “No charge,” I murmur. “Happy birthday again.”
Her eyes meet mine with something unspoken… then her hand slips away. And an ache settles in my chest as I watch her walk out the door.
I’m slouched on the couch,The Sopranosplaying on TV like background noise. Krueger’s sprawled at my feet, and Jaws is curled under my arm, snoring like a miniature bear. But none ofit distracts me because all I can think about is that hug and her face lighting up when I gave her those cheesy gifts.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and start typing:
I was thinking about what you said… about being jinxed. Maybe the universe puts us on these paths to see if we’re paying attention. To teach us something. The hard part is figuring out if you’re actually listening or stuck ignoring the signs. Sometimes, you just gotta pick a direction and go, even if you don’t know where it’ll take you.
I probably sound crazy, but I have to ask… are you happy? I mean really happy with your life, your career, where you’re going? Or are you living out of habit, stuck on autopilot, letting life pass you by?
I pause, staring at the screen. I could leave it there, but the words keep pouring out.
Anyways, thought you should know I like talking to you. Your mind’s like this wild, untamed forest. I never know if I’ll meet fierce Jenna, who’s guarded, or vulnerable Jenna, who lets her walls down. I like both versions of you.
I also like oranges. Way more than coconuts. Good night, friend.
I reread it, knowing it’s a bad idea, knowing these words aren’t just words. They’re dangerous. But it’s been a long day, and my judgment clocked out hours ago, so I hit send.
Chapter 9: The Dance We Keep Doing
Jenna: October
I glance at Dylan’s message again. “Are you happy?” How do you answer a loaded question like that? I start typing:
“You don’t sound crazy at all. I wish I had an answer. If I could choose a direction, I’d already be running. Lol. And maybe you need to go find some veggies instead of fruit.”
I want to say more. But I stop myself.
By the time I get to the restaurant, I’m wiped the hell out. Between the day’s chaos and Dylan’s emotional storm, I’d rather be home in pajamas, with a glass of wine, disappearing into a book… not out in public pretending to celebrate. But Jacob insisted.It will be a quick dinner,he promised.You deserve it.
I should’ve known. Jacob isn’t one for surprises—except when it comes to my birthday. Almost every year, he throws me asurprise party, even though I hate them. He still thinks if he does them enough, I’ll change my mind.
