Page 15 of Fighting Jacob

And there’s the cause of my worry. Two little symbols that can mean so much more when viewed by the wrong eyes. Stupid kisses. Stupid driving instructors who failed me because they were snooty cows. Stupid heart that got so severely broken, it's lost its trust in everyone.

After trudging into my bedroom, I search my closet for the full-length jeans Maggie instructed me to wear. When my hunt comes up empty, I put on white denim shorts instead. This outfit is sexier anyway, so it’ll help patrons be more generous with their tips. A win for all involved—Maggie included.

Not long after I’ve finished applying my makeup, a car horn sounds outside. When I peer out the lace curtain, I spot Jacob’s car in the driveway and smile. He’s learning quickly, which means my body should soon understand that we’re only friends.

I dart into my room to grab my purse before racing outside, bypassing Emily’s room on my way. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her head pops up from the giant textbook she’s reading. “Okay. Good luck.”

Waving, I dash outside, my pace remarkably fast considering the height of my stilettos. My strides half when I notice Jacob's entranced stare as I saunter past. I add an extra swing to my hips, loving the zeal in his eyes before realizing prancing like Bambi isn’t something friends do for other friends either.

Ugh! Why does this have to be so damn hard?

“Hey, Jake.” As I slip into the passenger seat, I drink in how his light blue long-sleeve polo shirt makes his eyes pop off his ruggedly handsome face.

His grin makes me wonder if he also noticed my prolonged gawk. “Hey. You ready?”

“Yep!”

I cringe when my girly voice bounces around his car. My nerves can’t be helped. Even though Mavs is a piece-of-shit pub, I’m still excited to have secured a job. I’ve been looking for ages, but since I don’t have a college degree, my applications were constantly overlooked. I could have gone to college on student loans, but with my mom already working double shifts to pay for our tiny house in one of the most expensive counties in the state, I didn’t want to burden her with more financial worries.

If I had brains like Emily, I could have applied for a scholarship. Unfortunately, I spent more time worrying about how I looked instead of hitting the books during my senior year, leaving my grades less than stellar. So, as much as Mavs is only a stepping stone, a job is a job, and I’m stoked to finally secure one.

When the first ten minutes of our trip occurs in silence, I attempt to spark a conversation. “How was your week?” Talking won’t settle the nerves in my stomach, but it’s got to better than humming like an idiot.

Jacob scratches his brow before he shrugs. “It wasn’t bad. You?”

“Could’ve been better.” I wait for him to ask what went wrong. It’s the longest two minutes of my life.

“What’s going on with you? You’re…” Freaking me out. Making me wonder if I slid into the wrong car. “…quiet.”

His eyes stray from the road to me. "I'm always quiet when I think. I'm not good at multi-tasking."

“Oh…then who did I fuck at Bronte’s Peak? He had the hair-pulling, clit-flicking, animal fucking down pat.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Lola.” He tugs on his dick, making my body green with envy. “You can’t say shit like that to me.”

“Why not? I was wondering earlier if I got in the wrong car. Now I’m certain. You don’t have a twin, do you? If so, do you have any rules about not fucking the same girl?”

His growl is as cute as fuck. “I have a brother; he’s not my twin, and I’d cut his dick off with a saw if it got within an inch of you.”

“Alright. Calm down, Big Boy.” I playfully wink, loving the return of the Jacob I’ve been toying with the past two weeks. “If you’re merely thinking, why not do it out loud? Maybe I can help ease whatever is going on in that big head of yours.”

"You wanna talk? Fuck—maybe I should cut my dick off. It'll make my transition into womanhood easier."

I slap his bicep. Stupid mistake. It whips up the smell I’m struggling to ignore—his scrumptious aftershave. “I don’t necessarily want to talk. I just need to do something to settle the nerves in my stomach.” Stealing his chance to reply to my pathetic statement, I say, “So, come on, out with it. What has you sitting there like an army sergeant with a GI Joe stuck up his butt?”

“Eddie Murphy?”

“What?” Why does he have Eddie Murphy on his mind?

“Delirious by Eddie Murphy. ‘And GI Joe got stuck; GI Joe got stuck in the water.’”

I laugh loudly while pretending to clamp my hand around a gigantic air turd. “And then a big brown shark came.”

We laugh for several long, fascinating minutes. It clears the nerves from my belly by pushing them down several inches. Jacob's laugh is as delicious as his face.

"I can't believe you watched that. I thought I was the only one who loved classic standup."

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