Page 59 of The Likelihood Of You

“He’s still bitter about losing, but he gets business out of our names being up there, so he’ll get over it.”

“Did you just bring me here to show this off?” I ask with a laugh.

“I brought you for the food, but that’s definitely a bonus.” He says, that smirk still prominent.

The people in front of us leave with their food, taking us to the front of the truck. I can practically feel the heat from the grill tanning my cheeks, and the hot pretzel smell twirls up my nose.

“Jacob!” A gritty voice called from inside the truck; it was Sal. “How you doing, man?” He leans down out the window and drops his hand out to fist-bump Jacob, who rests his glasses on his forehead for a second.

“I’m good. How’s Louie doing?” Jacob shouts, trying to be louder than the hustle from the street and the radio that’s playing the Knicks game from inside the truck.

“The kid’s fourteen now, just got crowned Prom King at his freshman prom. You believe that?” His accent was even thicker than Josephine’s, but you could tell there was a softness to him that balanced his large presence. “Anyway, what can I get for you two?”

“I’ll get a Barbecue Jack’s, if that’s okay.” He looks at me with a sweet smile. “Whatabout you?”

“It feels wrong not to get the one named after you.” I turn to look at Sal. “Can I get ‘THE JACOB EMERSON’ please? And could I get extra pickles on that?”

Sal gives me a firm nod. “A lady with taste. Coming right up!”

Jacob side-eyes me. "Pickles? Really?"

I slip my glasses to the bridge of my nose. "Oh, absolutely. They're, like, one of the most important food groups."

A laugh sneaks through his nose as he rolls those whiskey eyes at me, before hollering Sal again. “Hey, Sal, throw some extra pickles on mine, too, will ya?”

Sal nods, and I squeeze my eyes shut and dip my head, thinking of ways to get my heart to stop picking up its pace.

Pretzels in hand, we move over to the next street from Sal’s truck, one where we had a perfect view of Times Square, but without being smothered by tourists and the cast of Sesame Street. It was still busy, but nice—just us. And the second I took my first bite of the cheese-filled, crispy onion-topped, pickle-coated, wet dream pretzel, everything around me floated away, and everything made sense.

"Sweet Jesus," I muttered to myself.

It was too delicious to slow down. I wasn’t paying attention to what was around me anymore; I was too busy having a sensual moment with my perfectly named dirty pretzel. Which was why I didn’t see Jacob pull a disposable camera out of his pocket, bring it to his face, and snap a picture of me whilst I was mid-bite.

The flash startles me, and I stand there frozen. My mouth covered in pretzel crumbs and sour cream, a pickle hanging from my bottom lip, while a laugh erupts fromJacobs.

“I’m sorry. I—” The laughs keep spewing out of him. “I couldn’t help it.” He steps closer to me; I still don’t move, not wanting to acknowledge how stupid I must look. He takes a napkin from his coat pocket and hands it to me. “You’ve got onion on your glasses. Did you know that?”

Damn it.

My words come back to me in an instant. “Yes. Yes, I did actually. Is that a problem?” I say mockingly.

“No, no, it’s cute.” He replies in the same sarcastic tone my voice is laced with. “And I’ve got a picture to remember the moment. How wonderful.” A pride-filled smirk lands and stays on his face, while he twirls the camera in his hand, making me equal parts furious and infatuated.

This man was so sublimely impossible.

“Please, do take more. Want me to pose?” I regain some energy and rest my hand on the space between my neck and chest, while my other hand hoists the pretzel box straight in the air, making me look like a sloppy, cottage-core Lady Liberty. I part my lips slightly to make them look fuller and bump my hip to the side.

“Don’t move.” Jacob glides down to the floor, resting his weight on his knee.

His face grows serious, like I’m a model who just caught the light in the right way after hundreds of failed attempts. He pulls the camera to his face once more and lifts his glasses, resting them on his forehead like before. My eyes fall to his, those brown pools drinking up every last inch of my body, my face. A smirk peeks on his lips, and the fire inside my stomach grows. He’s focused. He’s not taking in anythingbut me. He doesn’t even notice the few people who stop and whisper his name, ignoring them when they grow louder.

Screw the moment with my pretzel, this was what I wanted.

The flash from the camera breaks our staring contest, and I relax from my pose. Jacob rises from his kneel, his glasses dropping back into place without his assistance. “Beautiful.”

I felt it.

“Okay. Gimme.” I gesture to the camera, still lingering in his hands. “I need one of you now. It’s only fair.”

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