Page 16 of Scary In Love
Jenna corrects me. “She is.”
“She.Good.”
“And why is that good?”
“I just mean I’m glad it’s not a guy. Or, I don’t know, maybe you’re bi,” I blurt out, then immediately panic. “That’s fine if you are. Obviously. That’s none of my business. I don’t really know you, but I want to. Sorry, this is my third coffee. I haven’t slept much lately. All those late nights are catching up with me, and then I just lie there staring at the ceiling thinking about new ways to scare people. For the haunt. Not because I’m a creep or anything. Work scares only from this guy.”
I tap my chest with my thumb, then realise I’m running out of air. Jenna’s hand covers my other one, pulling my cup away from my face.
“You sure that’s only your third coffee?” Her warm smile grounds me. “And I thought I was an over-sharer.”
This is not like me. Since when do I get stage fright or… whatever this is? Jenna looks bewildered, and it’s ironic that my bumbling bullshit might freak her out more than anything I could pull off in the house.
I take a deep breath to compose myself. “I’m sorry, I… I was just really hoping I’d run into you.”
“So you said.”
“And I didn’t want to scare you off again.”
Her eyebrows knit together, and she stares at her coffee, swirling the cup through the air.
“You didn’t. I was just a little overwhelmed by the whole evening. I didn’t think you’d walk me to my door, and I get awkward when I’m nervous.”
“Well, that’s fantastic.” My tone is far too enthusiastic. “We should start a support group or something. Same time next week? We can taketurns seeing who can be the biggest weirdo. Not that you’re weird or anything. I don’t mean that. You seem great. I like your hair.”
Through an amused snort, she mutters something that sounds like‘this fucking guy’.
“Three coffees is definitely your limit, dude.”
Oh, fuck no.
How did I blow this so fast? I don’t want to be in‘dude’territory or anything close to the friend zone with her.
Jenna rolls her eyes and strides off, calling back over her shoulder. “Are you walking me to work or not?”
I run to catch up, and she asks about my week, but only a few minutes later she stops outside a big house, set back from the road. I’ve walked past a few times, but never really paid attention. The‘Crowmorne Heights’sign is blue and white, and the smaller text below tells me this is a residential home.
Jenna twists to face me, her shoulders pulling back as she squares off with me. “This is me.”
The street is familiar, and looking around, it takes a second to realise the house where I dropped her off last week is right next door.
“You workhere?”
“Yep. I’m a Senior Care Manager.” She hugs her arms around herself and stares at the floor. Suddenly, her green trousers make much more sense. “I know it’s pretty pathetic, still living with my parents, working right next door, but they own this place, and I’ve worked here since I was sixteen. Can’t imagine doing anything else now.”
I’ve been wondering what a woman like Jenna Laing does for a living, but I wouldn’t have picked this. Everything I learn about her only fuels my curiosity.
“It’s not pathetic,” I tell her, nudging the toe of her shoe with mine. “That’s very noble work. And people would kill for a commute this short.”
“That’s why I grab a drink fromHappy Crowmost mornings. Walk a loop around town, and try to mentally separate home from work.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing. The days kind of blur into one when you sleep at the office.” I raise my cup for emphasis.
“Wait, you’re living at the Miller house?” Jenna frowns while taking another sip of hers.
“Well, yeah. It’s my house.”
She nearly chokes, grabbing my arm to steady herself. “Hold on a second. Are you telling me you’re Old Man Miller’s illegitimate son?”
