Jake was so absorbed by whatever he was doing on his phone—maybe it wasn’t work, maybe it was Raya or Tinder or Hinge, because lord knows everyone was hedging their bets—that he didn’t see her approach.
“Hi. I’m Jane.”
He put down his phone, giving her a toothy smile as he rose to his feet. He was as tall as advertised, over six feet, and had preppy good looks. That augured well for the accuracy of the rest of his profile.
“Hey, Jane. I’m Jake.”
She saw him discreetly giving her a full body scan, assessing assets and defects. Men embraced their superficiality, which was refreshing in its way.
“So nice to meet you.” He motioned to the bar. “Are you good to sit here?”
“Here is good.”
He pulled out a chair. “What can I get you to drink?”
“They have a Sancerre by the glass I like.” Jane had chosen this restaurant because she was a regular.
Jake waved over the bartender and ordered the wine and another beer for himself.
“So how was your day, Jane?”
“Well, the best thing about my job—I’m an organizer—is that I work in a different environment almost every day, so it’s never boring. The client today was messy, but a sweetheart. And what about your day?”
“Boring! I’m a lawyer, so it’s the office, the phone, the computer, endless documents. I never wanted to be a trial lawyer, but I love my firm; still, it can get monotonous if I’m being honest. Which I am for some reason....”
The way he was abashed by inadvertent self-revelation was adorable.
“I like honesty. In fact, I think I heard somewhere that it’s the best policy.”
He laughed. His laugh was hearty, infectious. Sexy even. “One hundred percent.”
They caught each other’s gaze, then Jane looked away, almost blushing. Dating made her feel like a repressed Victorian maiden in a Charlotte Brontë novel. It was a little scary, but then again, there was something exhilarating about it.
Jane was, to her surprise, very attracted to Jake, to his all-American good looks, his sense of humor, his crooked smile. And he had a job, a real job, even if, as he had confessed, he didn’t like it very much.
He insisted on walking Jane to her car. This was the awkward moment. How would they part? She was trying not to presume his level of interest in her.
“I really enjoyed meeting you, Jane.”
“Same here, Jake.”
He rested his hand lightly on her arm. “Then we should do this again sometime—we can do an entire meal, not just a drink.”
“I’d like that.”
As he leaned in to kiss her, she offered her cheek. He gave her a light, lingering kiss that made her spine tingle. She actually giggled. Then she looked up at him and planted one on his lips. For a moment, Jane felt young and reckless, but then she pulled away and told Jake that she had to get home.
Chapter Ten
Chloe
Spin class. Jane loved the exertion, the feeling of her heart thumping—it provided an endorphin rush that made her feel especially lucid. It was also a fun thing to do with Anna, and they’d planned to meet up at SoulCycle on Sunday morning.
SoulCycle, with its candlelit spin studio and spiritual bromides delivered as life-altering tidbits of wisdom, was suspect. Branding an exercise class as a spiritual event seemed crass, a kind of corruption even—the spiritual exhortations were really only a marketing hook. And yet it worked; by session’s end, everyone seemed to have achieved a kind of ecstatic bliss.
Jane entered the studio, found her bike, and inserted earplugs. The volume of the music could leave her ears ringing; sometimes the percussion was so insistent it felt like actual drumsticks beating on her eardrums. She stretched and watched people file in, mostly women in their thirties and forties, all similarly dressed and coiffed—light makeup, ponytails, head to toe Lululemon.
Looking around for Anna, who was perpetually late, Jane spotted a taut, muscular woman wearing a headset making her way to the front of the class. She looked to be in her forties and sported a very short, bleached blond haircut, which made Jane think she must be either a punk revivalist, a Pink superfan, a lesbian, or possibly all three.
