Page 30 of It Should Have Been Me

I roll my eyes and start slicing the raw chicken. “Get out of here. This discussion is over.” I start rummaging through the kitchen to find utensils. “Oh, hey. Where are your pans?”

“They’re not in the oven, if that’s where you were going to look. Most people keep them in a cupboard.”

“Just get out of my face.”

He returns twenty minutes later shirtless, wearing nothing but a grey pair of sweatpants that is enticingly too low on his narrow hips. A thin film of moisture glistens on his tanned skin. He wasn’t lying about those abs. They are more chiseled now, and I have to subdue the urge to run my hands over every defined bump. The V at his hips is...Shit!I’m checking him out again. His chest was bare the entire time we were surfing, yet seeing it now has heat spreading up my neck and onto my cheeks because now we’re in his apartment...alone. This feels a lot more intimate somehow. Watching a movie with him was obviously not my smartest idea. I really didn’t think this through properly.

He comes to stand behind me, peering over my shoulder into the pan. “That smells amazing.”

“It’s almost done. Here, try some.” I try to ignore his closeness and the way my pulse is rapidly thrumming beneath my skin. Carefully, I take a spoonful, blow it then lift it to his lips. “Does it need more salt?”

“Nah, it’s perfect.” He chews a bit more. “Man, I miss your cooking. Your mom’s food is great, but it just doesn’t taste the same.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve cooked,” I admit. “I move around so much that I don’t even own a set of pots and pans, so we just end up eating out all the time.”

“You do know that eating out doesn’t literally meanout...like outside. Spiders should never be on the menu.”

I give a wry smile. “Can you grab some plates?”

He brings two plates to the counter, and I dish up a portion for each of us.

“So, what do you want to drink?” he asks, opening the fridge.

“Do you have wine?”

“Wine? You drink wine now? I’ve only ever seen you drink twice. Once on our eighteenth birthday and again when we went out to celebrate our twenty-first birthday. You got wasted that night and swore you’d never touch alcohol again.”

“Oh, that promise dissolved after I went to a few clubs. Give me music and dancing, and alcohol becomes my best friend.”

“Hmm...well, that’s another change.” He peers inside the fridge. “I don’t have wine. I have beer and Pepsi...and water.”

“I’ll take Pepsi.”

He brings it over and pours it into a glass for me. “Is man-bun quite the party animal, too?”

I giggle at the nickname. “No. He’s quite reserved in that sense. He thinks it’s uncultured to get drunk in public and hehatesdancing.”

“Sounds like a fun guy.”

His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, but I ignore it. I don’t need to justify my choices to Scott, especially when it comes to the man in my life. JP and I may be the classic case of opposites attract, but in all the ways that count, we’re very compatible. I don’t love him despite our differences. I love himbecauseof our differences. I like that he balances out my wilder tendencies and shows me the more sophisticated side of life.

I carry my plate and drink to the table, and we eat dinner, talking about the most random things. Our theories about how the world would end and what we would keep in an underground bunker, just in case. The whole discussion is childish and a little silly, but I thoroughly enjoy it because douche over here is still so much fun to talk to. He says he hasn’t changed or matured, but he has. Even in this silly conversation, I can see the differences. He’s so smart, and he’s got this analytical view of the world, which just makes him fascinating to listen to.

The conversation is very different from how it was earlier. It’s not stilted at all. There are no random moments of awkwardness sprinkled in between, no past hurt creeping in unexpectedly. We’re just enjoying each other’s company and that helps us flow effortlessly from one topic to the next.

After dinner, he washes up, and I make a big bowl of popcorn. We dump two packets of Jelly Bellies in there and it’s only when we’re about to start the movie that I realize the TV is in his bedroom. Yeah, I definitely didn’t think this through.

The room is in darkness with the light from the screen illuminating his face and it causes shadows to dance on the wall. He’s already sitting against the headboard, legs outstretched on the bed. I sit down on the foot side as far away from him as possible.

“Now, I want you to pay very special attention to everything Lawrence Gordon says and does because—”

I stuff a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding onto this argument for so long.”

“Things have to make sense to me. You’re irrational, which is why you can jump off bridges and walk through jungles infested with anacondas. That’s irrational behavior that makes absolutely no sense to me. It’s also why you can overlook critical loopholes in a plotline.”

“Can we just enjoy the movie?”

“This is how I enjoy a movie.” His eyes move to the bowl of popcorn. “Are you gonna share some of that?”

---