Page 65 of Jump

“I baked lamb,” I sigh. “I’ve got dessert planned. I have a movie ready.”

“You’re daaaating,” she mewls. “Oh my gosh, Viv! You’re dating Matt! Where is he now?”

“The shower. I told you.”

“But you haven’t eaten yet?”

“No. We had a fight. Love was mentioned, he said some things about wanting me, and I brought Ainsley into the conversation—”

“Oh dear,” she snickers. “What did you say?”

“That I don’t want to be compared. That I can’t live up to her, and would go crazy trying. I told him everyone would think badly of me, and I couldn’t handle that kind of judgment… or something like that.”

“Or something like that,” she repeats playfully. I hear her hand rub along her face. Her hair bristle as she tucks it behind her ear. “So… he said ‘love’, and you threw his dead girlfriend in his face?”

“Pretty much.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “I’m a bad person.”

“No, honey. You’re not a bad person.” If she was here, I know she’d pull me into a hug and wrap her arms tight around my shoulders to keep me from escaping. “But you worry too much about what everyone else thinks.”

I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, and nod. “He said that, too.”

“So do whatever makes you happy,” she presses. “If you wanna go smash uglies in the shower, do it. If his bad mood is your turn-on, then go get it.”

A soft snicker rolls along my throat.

“I mean, I don’t understand it,” she qualifies. “I guess I prefer the funny, silly type of firefighter to the eternally angry, sad-boy kind. But that’s the beauty of different folks, different strokes, ya know? If you were into the Axels of the world, I might get territorial and hurt you.”

“Hannah.”

“Yep! Sorry. You and Matt.” She shakes off her tangent and refocuses. “Go do you, Viv. If that means banging, then have at it. If that means keeping your connection to strictly roommates, then put up your boundaries and say no. But if you’re worried about Ainsley…” She draws a deep breath. “Honey, I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but she’s gone.”

“I know she’s go—”

“And the only person on this planet whose opinion matters when it comes to her is Ruiz himself. So if he feels he’s ready to try things with you, then that’s a choice he gets to make.”

She snorts. “Of course, if he’s not ready, he’ll cause damage, and I’ll hurt him. But if he is…” A slight change in her breathing lets me picture the way she lifts her shoulders. “What you guys build could be amazing and beautiful. But you won’t know until you stop giving everyone else’s feelings more importance than your own. Now go!” she urges. “Whatever you’re gonna do, go do it, but you won’t make a choice as long as I’m on the phone. And I demand a coffee date tomorrow.”

“Han—”

“Demand!” she repeats. “I want all the deets, because you’ve been keeping secrets from me, lady. You sat at the lake on a double date with some other dude, but you were reading Ruiz’s book? Girl, you may as well have been wearing his letterman jacket.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes skyward. “We’d had an argument the night before because he didn’t want me to go to the lake, and before he left for his shift at the station, he sort of sent his book my way—likely thinking it would keep me home.”

“Yeah, he didn’t want you going on a freakin’ date because he loves you! But there you went, bein’ a boss bitch and reading his book while with someone else. Sending two men insane in one night? Tsk tsk. Vivian! You playa.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.” Nibbling on the corner of my lip, I work to suppress the nerves bubbling in my throat. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“Good. I’m gonna go finish what Axel and I started. But I’m coming to find you tomorrow, and you’re gonna tell me everything.”

“Sure. Have fun.”

I drag the phone from my ear and hit the button to end our call, then I glance toward the doorway—and groan as dread and anticipation swirl in my stomach and threaten to make me sick.

He made the first move. He told me how he felt.

And now he’s showering all alone and washing away the rejection that I, myself, could not survive if our positions were reversed.

Grabbing my wine and shaking my head, I leave my phone on the kitchen counter and push up from the stool. My feet touch the hard floor, and my hands shake so my wine sloshes in the glass. But I take a deep breath, tell my brain to shut the hell up and stop overthinking, then I charge along the hall before I can panic and run the other way.

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