Page 40 of Something that Could Last

“Yeah, sure,” I reply and slide off of Jacob's lap. I instantly miss the feel of his warm body. The night has become somewhat chilly, and I lament the absence of his arms around me.

“Reese's cups or Hershey's?” I ask Jacob as I gather the ingredients.

“Reese's cups, definitely,” he replies with one of his devastating smiles.

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” I sigh. He chuckles and helps me prepare the marshmallows for roasting.

We spend the rest of the night eating s'mores and talking about music and movies and, unfortunately, a detailed description of how Luke lost his virginity. Jacob just shakes his head and grins, his shoulders vibrating with quiet laughter. When the conversation finally comes back to TV shows, I realize we all have something in common.

“Who do you think will end up on the Iron Throne?” Jacob asks Luke. We've been deep in a discussion about one of our favorite shows for the last twenty minutes.

“I don't know, man. I hope it's the hot blonde chick with the dragons,” Luke replies. “If not, she should at least have a lot more nude scenes. That might make up for it.” I just roll my eyes. He's such a guy.

“What do you think?” Jacob asks, turning towards me.

“Nobody,” I answer simply.

“What?” he responds, confused.

“I don't think anybody will sit on it. Everybody will be dead. Or turned into ice zombies.” Makes sense, considering how things have gone thus far.

My simple answer stuns them into silence.

“Okay,” Luke drawls, stretching out the last syllable. “Thanks for the input, Debbie Downer.” The three of us burst into laughter at his snarky comment. We’ve had a bit too much to drink, and it’s making us giddy.

“Don't take any offense to Luke. He takes that show very seriously,” Jacob offers with a wink.

“Who wants another beer?” Tiff asks, rising from her chair. She stumbles, nearly crashing into the fire. Luke grabs her by the waist to keep her from plummeting into the flames.

“Maybe you should let me get the next round,” Luke offers. He takes her by the shoulders and steers her back into her chair. She complies and sits patiently as Luke grabs us all drinks. She pouts when he hands her a bottle of water instead of another low carb beer.

“Are you excited to go to The Barn Saturday?” I ask, distracting her from her disappointment.

Tiff stiffens at my question, and a look of discomfort crosses her face. She recovers quickly, but her reaction unnerves me. Maybe it’s all the alcohol in her system.

She hesitates for a moment, chewing on her cuticles. She only does that when she’s anxious. I have no idea what she could possibly be anxious about. “I think I'm gonna sit this one out. I've gotta work all day Saturday and open on Sunday.”

“I know. I'm working with you, remember?” She's being weirdly evasive and I don't like it. Something is up with her, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Yeah, I remember. I was just so exhausted last Sunday after staying out so late.” She was exhausted because she was hungover. If she takes it easy on the booze, she might not feel so bad the next day.

“We can just stay for a couple hours and call it a night,” I plead. “Ethan's band is playing, and I'm really looking forward to seeing them. I haven't heard them play live in a while.”

All eyes are on Tiff now, and her look of apprehension worries me. Her arms are hugged in close to her body and she's progressed to biting her thumbnail, a sure sign of her growing unease. I wonder if there's something she's not telling me. Is she getting tired of Luke and doesn't want him to go? Maybe I shouldn't have asked in front of him. But Jacob already knows, so Luke would find out eventually anyway.

Finally, she sighs and answers, “Okay, I'll go. But can we leave by midnight?”

“Twelve-thirty?” I negotiate. She gives in, shrugging her acceptance.

“What's the barn?” Luke asks, and I tell him about the Jameson's place. He seems pretty excited by the time I finish. “Sounds like fun.” He smiles at Tiff and takes a long gulp from his beer. She's a little more relaxed but still seems pensive. I need to get to the bottom of whatever is bothering her.

The night bleeds into the early morning as we sit around the campfire shootin' the bull. It’s just after one a.m. when I decide to call it a night since I have to be at work at nine. I stand and stretch my arms high above my head, an involuntary yawn escaping. Jacob stands and brushes my hair from my face.

“Getting tired?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think I'm going to get ready for bed.”

“I'm pretty worn out, too.”

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