Page 38 of On the Line

“Dad’s been better, I swear. He even managed to get his job back at the factory.”

“Good for him,” I mutter, swallowing the insults trying to fly out of my mouth. Instead, I ask, “Where is he now?”

“Sleeping.” She takes another sip of juice. “Nightshift.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my stomach flipsbut I keep my face neutral, resisting the urge to whip it out immediately.

It’s probably just Alec or something. Chill the fuck out.

“Anyway, I’ll make you and Charlie a breakfast sandwich. You still going through your anti-tomatoes in sandwiches phase?” I ask.

She wrinkles her nose and nods.

I snicker. “Alright, they’ll be ready in fifteen.”

My thumb tapsagainst the steering wheel to the beat of the music while still parked outside of the house. My eyes dart down to the middle console. I take my phone out from the cupholder as casually as possible, as if I wasn’t counting down the seconds until I could text James back in peace.

I unlock my phone and try to suppress the stupid grin fighting for dominance on my face when I find a reciprocated picture attached to her response. A pink mug with a book flipped upside down on a table.

Morning :)

Followed by a sun emoji.

She had programmed her name as James in my phone but I promptly changed it to Jimbo when I left her parents’ kitchen last night.

I tilt my head, trying to make out the book title she’s reading. Looks like some kind of art book. I file that information away for later. It’s a subtle type of desperation I feel … like I need to absorb every little detail from her life that I possibly can.

Knowing she’s also not working today since Orso is closed, I decide to shoot my shot.

I was thinking of heading to the farmer’s market this morning. Want to come?

My heart is beating loudly in my ears as if I’m being hunted for sport and not just fucking sitting in my parked car while I wait for her answer. The bubble indicating she’s typing appears, disappears, then reappears again, and I start to sweat.

Sure! Should I meet you there?

Relieved, I still scoff at her question. “Should I meet you there,” I mumble under my breath while I type.

Of course not, princess. I’ll come pick you up. Are you still at your parents?

Haha, okay thanks! No, I took a cab home last night.

She gives me her address and I pop it into my maps app, shifting into drive.The giddy feeling follows me all the way there.

My excitement turnsto unadulterated lust when I see James come out of her apartment complex. Her long white skirt trails behind her as she bounds down the path toward my parked car. She’s paired it with a barely-there tank top, her hair plaited into two braids, loose pink hair framing her round face.

She’s almost reached the car when I realize that maybe I should get out and open the door for her, so I quit my gawking and scamper out the car.

“Hey there, Jimbo,” I manage to rasp out while holding the passenger car open. When her peach scent reaches my nose, I practically short-circuit.

Her eyebrows rise but says nothing while climbing in.

“What?” I ask, leaning down to meet her eye. My laugh is too nervous for my liking but I continue to pretend I’m as confident as I appear.

“Nothing,” she answers with a similar laugh. Toying with her knitted purse resting on her lap, she adds, “I’m just a little wary of the gentleman act, I guess.”

There are so many layers to her answer that I fail to come up with a snarky response. But I refuse to have memories of her shitty boyfriend ruin the moment. So, I lean deeper into the car. I gently raise her chin, my thumb softly stroking her jaw as our lips meet. The kiss is chaste, a slow press of our lips, a simple reminder of who she’s with right now.

Me. Not him.Me.

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