Page 40 of Somewhere Only We Know
I stare at my screen in shock that she replied that much. Maybe this is the way to get back into her life. Sometimes we can’t speak what we mean, so we type it instead.
Me: So, you have time to support your favorite baseball player at his games?
Bee: He plays for Atlanta so I’m afraid that can’t happen.
Me: You’re hilarious.
Bee: I keep telling people that.
I laugh and then realize she can’t hear me. My thumbs hover over my screen debating if I want to ask what I want to ask.Fight for her, is what rings through my head. Thank you, Kamryn.
Me: Do you want to come keep me company?
The bubbles pop up and disappear. Over and over until my phone goes dark after five minutes. Maybe I pushed my luck. Pushed her. Brushing off her dismissal I get back to starting on my dinner, rinsing off potatoes and slicing them for fresh fries. I’m seasoning my steak when my phone dings.
Bee: Can I bring ice cream?
Me: Yes.
I send her my address and do a general overlook of my house. I have a cleaner come by once a month so nothing is out of place or messy. And it helps to keep my space tidy when I’m on the road most of the month or at the field from sunrise to sunset for practice or games.
I’m placing my steak on the griddle to cook when my doorbell rings. Suddenly I’m nervous. Like I’m seeing her for the first time. And in this case it is like seeing her for thefirst time. She’s in my space and I’m suddenly more nervous than being up to bat with bases loaded, two out, the strike not in my favor, and the other team is up in the score. I wipe my hands on the dish towel again and make sure my burners on the stove are off or on low before walking to the door.
I pull open the heavy door and smile at my visitor. Curly hair in beautiful spirals frame her face and fall down her back and dressed in jeans with holes on the knees, an oversized graphic short sleeve tee with a long sleeve underneath, and worn-in Doc Martens, is Jax. Her casual attire blows me away. I’m not sure what or how much I expected her to change in the years we were apart. But it’s good to know this side of her, the one who wears graphic tees like they’re all that’s available at the store, still exists. I’ll admit that I loved seeing her in her work attire of heels and pressed pants. But Jax dressed down is my favorite.
“Come in.” I tell her and step to the side.
Her jasmine and vanilla scent I loved so much in college, and is such a contradiction to what she wears, follows her into my house. “Wow.”
I close the door and turn to meet her. But her stare is everywhere, not staying on one spot. It’s like she’s getting to know me when we’ve barely scratched the surface.
“Nate, your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I tell her and move past her to head back to the kitchen. “Have you had dinner?”
“Uh, no?”
“Are you confused by that?” I ask and pop an eyebrow in her direction before I’m flipping the steak. It has a perfect sear and my mouth waters from the aroma alone.
She blushes having been caught in a pickle. “No. I mean I was just going to have ice cream for dinner.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll split my food with you and then you can split your ice cream with me.” I tell her as a way to barter.
“Are you sure? Looks like you only made enough for one.”
“Positive. I’ll take your ice cream and pop it in the freezer.” I hold my hand out and take the ice cream carton from her.
Our hands brush in the exchange and I look up to see her gaze unfocused. Once you crossed a line with someone, felt what we felt and the way we did, those feelings don’t just stop. No, they only lay dormant because you’re no longer together. But once you find yourself in their space again, those dormant feelings come rushing back. Sparked alive and refusing to dim.
Just this one brush of skin against skin with Jax has those feelings burning brighter than the sun on a cloudless day.
Jax clears her throat and crosses her arms over her chest, likely thrown off kilter the way I am from that simple touch. I take that moment to put her ice cream in the freezer and let the cold air chill me before I move onto the food. The steak is a perfect medium so I remove it from the eye and place it on a tray to rest.
“You still like steak?” I ask and grab a carving knife before placing it on the counter.
“Is the sky blue?”
I snort, because I shouldn’t have expected anything less. “Smartass.”
