Page 13 of The Second Kiss
Jaz gives me a bump with her hip, probably to bring me out of my trance. Of course, I want him to take me home. At least I think I do. “No, that’s not it. It’s just, well, you’re kind of the last person I expected to see today.”
“It’s good to see you, Jess.” He steps forward and gives me a hug.
I'm too shocked to hug him back. When he releases me, I step back and cross my arms to cover the smudges of sweat under my arms and the line of sweat under my breasts. I can’t believe how bad I look. Dripping sweat, no make-up, and I can feel wisps of hair that escaped from my braid clinging to my forehead. Nothing like the scene I’d conjured up when I thought of seeing Jacob again, something like me in a flowing dress, standing on a balcony, the wind gently teasing my hair, while he kneels before me confessing his undying love.
He looks awesome. Gorgeous. Way better than my imagination. His sandy hair is military short with a little spike to the front. He’s wearing his uniform—camo pants, boots, anda khaki t-shirt that’s tight enough to see the outline of his dog tags, a broad chest, and bulging biceps. And I thought he was hot before.
“I’m supposed to let this stranger take you home?” Jasmine looks from Jacob to me. I wish she would stop looking at me like that.
“Sorry, Jaz, this is Jacob Ricks, an old friend,” I stumble over the words. “From when I was a kid. His family used to live in our rental house.”
Jasmine holds out her hand, totally cool and unflustered. “Nice to meet you, Jacob. I’m Jasmine.”
I’m suddenly aware of how good she looks. Her straight black ponytail shines in the fluorescent lights, and her perfectly matched red crop top and short shorts hug her curves in all the right places. There must be some cheerleader secret, handed down through the ages, for working out without sweating. She looks as fresh and perky now as she does when she’s dancing in front of the bleachers at a basketball game.
She turns back to me, still grinning. “If I’m not taking you home, I need to get going. I take it you’re not coming tonight?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll call you later.”
“You’d better.” Jasmine says, not quite under her breath. “Well, I gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Jacob.”
“Nice to meet you, Jasmine.”
I can’t help but wonder how nice he thinks it is.
When she’s a few steps behind Jacob, Jaz turns around and catches my eye. She mouths, “Army guy, got it.” Jacob turns around to see what I’m looking at, but she’s already heading down the stairs.
“I’m sorry.” Jacob looks back at me. “Did you have plans?”
“Just some party. No big deal.” I’m trying to sound casual, like I go to parties every weekend and I can afford to miss one, but my heart is racing.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“Ready to go?”
I’d like to take a shower and change my clothes. I’d like to do my hair and put on makeup. I’d like a chance to catch my breath and make my heart stop pounding. I’m not sure how to tell him that, so I shrug, “I guess so.”
He reaches for my gym bag. “I can take that for you.”
“Thanks.” My hands are sweaty. I rub them off on my pants before I hand him the bag.
I feel like I’m stumbling all the way to his car—the way I used when I followed him as a kid. I wish I could think of something intelligent to say.
He stops by one of the coolest cars I’ve ever seen. Not in the Corvette or Beemer category of impressive. Instead, it’s street racer cool—low to the ground, with a spoiler and custom wheels. The best part is the paint job. The front is black, and the back is silver. When the black paint reaches the door it breaks up into smaller and smaller drops, like someone dipped the front of a silver car in black paint and drove fast, leaving a trail of black paint across the sides and along the top of the car.
I touch the hood of his car. “This is an awesome car.”
It’s the right thing to say. Jacob slides his hand over the paint job and smiles. “I was kind of a motor head in high school. I had a buddy who was an artist. He did the paint job for me and I kept his car running for him.” He touches the detail on the side. “It’s pretty conspicuous now, but I can’t bring myself to give it up.”
“I think it’s very cool.” I trace the silver paint on the door and pause over a slight imperfection, a square of black that doesn’t match the rest.
Jacob looks embarrassed. “I did that. It used to say ‘Liz’, my girlfriend from high school. She dumped me two weeks beforegraduation, something about finding a guy who was more into her than into his car.”
Stupid girl.
Jacob puts my bag in the trunk and then opens the door for me.
