Page 50 of Tangled Up

He kept his eyes on the road, left hand on the steering wheel, his right elbow on the console between us. “The human body isn’t supposed to bend like that.”

I bit back a smile.

“At least I didn’t fall asleep,” he said, referring to Frank letting out a rumbling snore during Shavasana.

I didn’t hide my laugh as I tugged my hair tie out, my hair blowing around my face from the window opened halfway. But I did ignore Jason’s double take from the other side of the truck.

“How was your date?” he asked after a minute, and I bent closer to the open window for more air.

“Fine.”

“Going on a second?”

When I didn’t answer, he hummed inquisitively. “I knew it wouldn’t work out. He’s what? Fifteen?”

“Twenty-two,” I corrected, not sure how I felt about Jason being so positive the date would be a flop.

“Probably majoring in something ridiculous like philosophy.”

“He’s a political science major.”

Jason snorted. “He’s a child.”

“He is not a child,” I said defensively. The date wasn’t terrible, but we also had nothing in common. “He’s planning on moving to DC after he graduates and is working to put himself through school.”

He harrumphed. A literal harrumph. “What could you possibly have talked about? Double-breasted jackets? The subtle differences between white and ivory?”

It almost sounded like he was jealous, and my spine tingled at the possibility. “We didn’t talk about jackets.”

“Colors, then?”

I huffed. “I’m sure I had as much fun with Remy as you have with Bridget.”

He stopped at a red light and fixed his eyes on me. “So you didn’t have any fun?”

I could lie, but what would be the point? He’d already sniffed out the truth. “I wanted to stab a fork in my ear so I didn’t have to listen to him.” When he snickered, I jabbed a finger in his direction. “Why are you laughing? You just admitted you don’t have any fun with your girlfriend.”

“Yep,” he said without any preamble then drove on when the light turned green.

I bobbed my chin, unsure what to say. “Well…what… Why are you with her?”

He parked in front of my apartment building and let out a loud exhale, his hand raking through his hair. “I’m not with her.”

I didn’t know what to believe at this point. Bridget, like a ghost, showed up at the most inopportune times, spoiling any momentum Jason and I had gained. “Whatever you say.”

He paused mid-step out of the truck and glanced over his shoulder, his face softening from frustration into something that appeared an awful lot like regret. “Gemma, I’m not with her. She isn’t the one I have feelings for.”

My breath caught, and I had trouble moving, my hand frozen on the door handle.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get you upstairs.” He hopped out of the truck, pulled down my bike, and was halfway to the door before I remembered how to walk again.

After setting my bicycle against the living room wall, Jason glanced around the room, his hand on the back of his neck. “I, uh, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stepped to the door. “Bye, Gem.”

I had felt stifled by him and thisthingbetween us all night, but now that his back was to me, I couldn’t stand to see him leave. “Wait!”

He whirled back around, eyebrows raised, hair drooping toward his right eye.

“You called me Gem.”

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