Page 74 of Love Medley
“Don’t get any ideas,” I warn her, but she won’t listen to me.
“Sure,” she says, not at all believably. Zoe is competitive in everything she does. She was on her college tennis team and took no prisoners when she played. She was top of her pre-med classes, crushed the MCATs, and continues to rake in high scores on our medical school tests. So to her, this is probably just one more test she wants to ace.
Knowing her, she probably will. Luke better watch out.
Chapter twenty-four
Jake
On Tuesday morning, there’s a text from Lucy waiting for me, and my eyes light up. It’s the only thing that’s been preventing me from crawling out of my skin for the past day. Who knew time could creep by so slowly? I’m stoked for our date tonight.
Our firstrealdate.
Lucy: My turn. And by the way, I didn’t look this up online, I thought of it myself. *tongue emoji* Books or movies?
Me: Damn, you’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?
Lucy: Nope.
Me: Do I have to decide? I like both, just at different times.
Lucy: Trick question. Me too. I wouldn’t be able to decide.
To fill up the time until our date, I occupy myself with paying bills, putting away my laundry, running errands, and cleaning up around my place. It’s times like these that I’m glad the ER schedule allows for so many week days off—life stuff has to get done sometime. Plus the humdrum monotony of such tasks allows my mind to drift back to Lucy.
Thirty minutes before I’m supposed to pick her up, I swing by a florist close to my place and grab a small bouquet of daisies. Lucy mentioned she loved these in our texts, but even so, my palms grow sweaty. What if she doesn’t like them after all? I often misjudged Sam’s signals, and I don’t want to do that with Lucy.
Before I know it, I’m parking outside her apartment complex and stepping out of my car. My mouth is dry and my hands clammy; I quickly wipe them on my pants. For our date, I went withkhaki slacks, loafers, and a button-down gray shirt. I’ve been told the color brings out my eyes, but I don’t care what it does as long as Lucy likes it.
But right now, I’m second-guessing everything.
We’ve interacted so much in the past week that I should feel comfortable, but somehow, this feels like a completely different ballgame.
After I push on the buzzer, Lucy’s musical voice fills my ears. “Yes?”
“Hi, it’s Jake.” My voice sounds hoarse and cracks on my name. How embarrassing.
“Come on up.”
The buzzer goes off, and the building’s front door clicks open. I make my way into the complex and push the button for the elevator.
I remember this from last time: her building is more modern than mine, clean lines and way more concrete than I’m used to seeing. Her apartment is on the fourth floor, and I suppress the urge to bound up all four flights of stairs to get to her sooner. Instead, I wait impatiently, leg jiggling, for the elevator to arrive.
Every additional second is torture, and I debate if this is all a big mistake. Maybe I misread everything? Even though I’ve reread each text chain, although I studied each word she said in our phone conversation, I’m still plagued with self-doubt.
Maybe she was just being nice after my blurted confession, and this is the consolation prize.
Whatever it is, I can’t say I would have done anything different, so I may as well lean into it now, no matter how revved up my sympathetic fight-or-flight response is.
After what seems like centuries, I’m finally outside her apartment. As I ring her doorbell, my heart pumps hard in anticipation, even though I didn’t take the stairs.
Lucy opens the door, breathless, eyes shining. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s wearing a beautiful swirly blue and pink dress that showcases her slender arms and legs. My inner critic is silenced from just being in her presence.
Somehow, Lucy feels like coming home.
God, she’s beautiful. If only I could take her in my arms and press my lips on hers.
Tamping down that desire, somewhat unsuccessfully, I instead give her a brief hug. But even that slight pressure of my body against hers makes my pulse jump.
