Page 60 of Burn It Down

Her eyes rake over my frame as her mouth hangs open. “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine,” she says to my chest. When her eyes finally make it up to mine, she inhales sharply. “My God, your eyes are incredible.”

I fight the urge to close them and swing them to Jake instead. Although seeing the heat in his own gaze, I quickly realize closing them would’ve been better.

“Thank you,” I mutter, feeling slightly ambushed.

Sensing my discomfort, Jake pipes up. “Whitney, can I offer you a seat at the table? I think we’re just about ready to serve. Dylan, could you grab plates?”

If Whitney’s on to Jake, her manners don’t allow her to show it. She takes the arm he offers and lets him guide her the four feet from the hallway to the table, and pull her chair out for her.

“Cora, it smells delicious,” I tell her, reaching into the cabinet for the plates.

“Thank you. It’s Jacob’s favorite.”

I make a mental note of it.

Once we’re all seated, I try to keep my eyes off Jake and contribute to the conversation minimally, but the girls basically want my whole life story.

When I briefly skim over the fact that my mom is dead, Whitney’s eyes crinkle in the corners sincerely. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. It’s been tough, but I’m grateful for my sister, our dad, and the shop. I stay busy enough.”

“And your girlfriend?” Whitney asks, obviously fishing,

“No girlfriend,” I say, looking down at my plate. How would this go if I were to tell them I’m gay? Would Cora become suspicious about Jake befriending me? Would Whitney try tochangeme?

Without an opportunity to ask him what I should do, I decide to keep that information to myself for now. If Jake finds it relevant and suitable to disclose, he can mention it. He knows I don’t care.

“I find that hard to believe,” Whitney says, skating her hand along my thigh. We’re seated side-by-side with Jake and Cora across from us.

I see Jake’s jaw clench as he watches Whitney’s hand through the glass table top as it climbs higher on my leg. Not wanting his teeth to break, I still her hand.

“I’m afraid I don’t have time or margin for a relationship just now,” I try to explain, hoping she gets the message the first time and I don’t have to repeat myself.

No dice.

She wrinkles her nose. “Yuck. Who wants a relationship? Look at those two. They exhaust me.No offense,” she says, laughing. “I prefer to have passionate flings. I like the challenge, the chase, and the reward. And then I like to move on.”

What is she offering here? A one-night stand?

Jake clears his throat. “Whit, this is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” he reprimands the grown woman at my side.

Whitney shares a look with Cora, but she backs off.

“My apologies. Tell us, Jacob, what would you like to discuss?” Whitney isn’t being rude or hateful, but there is definitely a lilt to her voice, like a vocal smirk.

The conversation turns to neutral topics: work, travel, food. Eventually, the conversation rolls around to the vandalism and Glynda’s shooting.

“She’s stable now, but we’re all shaken up. Sure, we’ve had the occasional break-in, mugging, etc… like any suburb of a major metropolitan area, but never anything like this. We aren’t in the slums. We’re middle-class families with small businesses and until recently, our area was experiencing a lot of growth with new construction. Then all of a sudden, our crime rate skyrockets, driving our business down while forcing us to pay outrageous property taxes in order to keep a property that’s rapidly losing value.”

“That’s awful!” Cora and Whitney say in unison. “Have you brought this to your town council? The mayor?”

“Not to be a total dick, but unless it’s directly affecting those with money, people in positions of power are pretty good at turning a blind eye. We’ve tried filing police reports, but they never follow up and our insurance stopped paying out on claims because there were too many. But that’s enough about that. We’ll figure something out. My sister wants to move and my dad is trying to convince me to sell the shop and start somewhere new.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Cora says. “Have you considered it?”

Knowing why the question makes me uneasy, I’m surprised when I answer truthfully. Especially to this room full of people. If pressed to find a reason for spilling my guts, I guess I do it for Jake’s benefit.

“Not really. Selling the shop would feel like losing the last piece of my mom. If we sell it and all move away, it feels like she’s stuck there, alone forever, and we’ve all abandoned her. I can’t stomach the thought.”

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