Before I can process that, my phone chimes.
Dylan:I know things have been awkward since the kiss. But I’d honestly rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.
My stomach flips. Is “just friends” even possible? How many women has he said this to? What does he really want from me? My body knows exactly what it wants. But my mind screamsJacob, Jacob, Jacob!
And somehow, my mother’s voice chimes in too.Make men beg for you. Never let them know how much you care.Yeah, great advice from someone on partner number seven—or is it eight?
Another ding. This time, it’s a picture of Dylan. He’s shirtless, grinning, wearing the same ridiculous oversized bib with kittens on it from that bag. I burst out laughing, nearly choking on my tea.
Dylan:Found a solution for all your little accidents. Now, I never have to watch white cream drip down your face again. It’s on your desk, next to your “special pen.” My pen.
God, he’s relentless. And the only man who texts without waiting for a reply. His messages are full of life. With Jacob, I’m lucky to get one word. Or one letter. My personal favorite: “K.”
Me:Don’t you know you’re supposed to wait until I text back? And FYI, wrong number. I’ve never spilled anything in my entire life.
Dylan:Stop it. I don’t need to follow rules with you. I’ll text as much as I want until you admit how much you like me…. at least like a friend. A really sexy friend.
I should feel conflicted. Guilty. But instead, every damn light inside me flicks on.
Me:Honestly, I adore your double texts. But sexy friend? You’re pushing it. More like cocky friend. Next thing I know, you’ll be inviting me to Thailand “just as friends.”
Dylan:Hahaha. Great idea. I’ll book us a flight. We’ll go skinny-dipping in Phuket and you can cross that off your bucket list.
Me:Wait.How did you know I’ve always wanted to skinny-dip in Thailand?
Dylan:Lucky guess. But thanks, that mental image of you naked on a beach will keep me warm tonight. Actually, let me do the math. You like being naked + I like being naked = We should get naked together.
Shit. The thought of being naked with him makes my stomach drop to the floor.
Me:Sadly, I suck at math, so I can’t solve your equation. But let me fix your fantasy. My boobs aren’t as perky after two kids. My ass is addicted to chocolate. And I haven’t been flexible since I was thirty. Trust me, you’re not missing anything.
As soon as I hit send, regret smacks me in the face. Why did I type-vomit all of that? I should’ve said, you’d be lucky to have me. Or better, maybe reminded him… I’m married. But my brain is scrambled eggs.
Dylan:That fixes nothing. I like you, Jenna. More than I probably should. And not just because you’re beautiful. You’re real. And pretty fucking amazing. I don’t know what this is between us, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to keep getting to know you.
Shit.
Dylan:Tell your boss you’re sick or have an emergency. Come see me. I’ll have you back in two hours… maybe two days. ;) FYI Light fixtures are on backorder. Renos are delayed a few more weeks.
Double shit.
Is this the universe extending whateverthis is? The one that will inevitably end in heartbreak. I can’t keep coming up with excuses to tell Izzy.
Dylan:Stop smiling because you get to keep me longer at work. Come outside. I’m waiting at Fairview Plaza. A few minutes from your office.
Triple dog shit.
Just friends.For a few more weeks. What the hell do I tell Izzy? What if someone sees my car somewhere it shouldn’t be? What if Jacob finds out I left work early?
I suck in a deep breath, thinking through every possible scenario, and text Izzy.
Me:Leaving work early to get my mom a birthday gift. Some chakra healing stone across the city. She swears it’ll clear out the “bad energies” in her house. Telling Shantel I’m sick… Wish me luck.
Then I grab my things, and bolt to my boss’s office before I chicken out.
That was surprisingly easy. No questions asked. Izzy wished me luck on my mission to find Mom’s latest life-changing gift. Shantel barely looked up when I told her I was sick. Guess working hard all year and rarely calling in sick has its perks.
Pulling into the plaza parking lot, my heart pounds. I shouldn't be here. I know that. This is the point of no return. A voice inside me screams. Turn around. Go home. Save yourself.
