Page 9 of Jump

“It’s your birthday?” Her eyes shimmer with an emotion I’m not sure I could accurately label. But there’s something there. Sadness, maybe. Distress. “It’s nighttime, Jump. On your birthday, and no one knows?”

“So?” I twine our fingers together while we’re close and she’s distracted, then I step forward again and stop only when our toes touch. “I’m not nine years old. I don’t need all the balloons and happy birthdays and attaboys. Besides,” I fold my neck so we’re closer. So I can taste her on my tongue. “It’s Nicole’s party, not mine. No way am I stealing that from her.”

“You endured the entire day with no one saying happy birthday? No one?”

“Your reaction tells me birthdays are important to you.” Grinning, I set my free hand on the small of her back and pull her in till she gasps and lifts to her toes. Because we’re still anonymous. Still wearing masks. And the moon is still out for many hours yet. “November twenty-ninth. I won’t forget.”

“You probably will.” But she exhales a heavy sigh and looks away. Shy, but a prisoner to me—for now at least. “Your name is Matt? Seriously?”

“Matteo.” I study her thick lips and lick mine in response. To taste just once… to touch… “But I won’t tell you my last name. So we don’t break your rules.”

“Fine…” Grumbling, she looks down and shows me the top of her head. “I’m not telling you my real first name. Because once I do, this is all over and real life starts again.”

“Fair.” I place my fingers beneath her chin and drag her up till I see the golden specks in her gaze. “Real life sucks mongrel dog balls. I’d much rather stay here with you.”

I lean in, my lips curling higher when her eyes alight with panic. But to alleviate her worry, I divert to trace the shell of her ear with the tip of my nose. To smell her perfume in my lungs. To feel her warmth on my skin.

“We have until the sun comes up,” I whisper. “To be whoever the fuck we want without worrying about the real world. We can be Ana and Jump.” I cup the front of her throat with my palm and feel her pulse skittering under my touch. “Nothing else has to matter.”

“I’ve never had a one-night stand, Matt. I’m not even entirely sure how to get from where we are now, to a place where maybe we do something I’ll hate myself for tomorrow.”

I chuckle. “I’ve had enough for both of us.” Though I’m not proud of the fact. “I would normally tell you they’re not worth it. They’re empty and void of anything real or comforting. But I get the feeling it would be different with you.” Pulling back, I meet her emotional eyes and stroke her thick bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. “That’s not a line. That’s the truth. Do with it what you want.”

“Do you live here?” Her jaw trembles under my touch, nerves and nervousness scaring the shit out of her. “Here,” she amends, “in this town. I know it was a masquerade ball and all that, which means we aren’t supposed to know who’s beneath the mask, but I’m not blind. I don’t know your face.”

“I don’t live here.”

Reaching up, even as Ana’s eyes grow more fearful, I grab my mask and slowly lift away the rubbery material to reveal who I am beneath. After removing it completely, I fold it up and stuff the lot in my back pocket.

Showing her all of me, comfortable, knowing I remain anonymous, I search her eyes. “I don’t live anywhere right now,” I admit. “I got to town just a few days ago. It’s the first time I’ve been back in a long time. I’m not sure what my plans are for the future, so I’m crashing at a friend’s house until I decide.”

“So… you’re homeless?”

I cough out a soft laugh and nod. “I mean, technically, yeah. But not in the sleeping on the streets kind of way. I sold my house a while back and went to work on base for the last seven or so months.”

“On base?” She continues to scour my face, evidently taking mental snapshots of every nuance. Every line. Every scar I possess, and every wrinkle I’ve earned in all my thirty-one years. “So you’re military?”

“Not exactly.” But discussing my job, even in the vaguest sense, is a fast way to destroy that anonymity she so desperately seeks. So I flash a playful smile and stare down at her bow lips. “I’m not sure where I’m gonna settle next, and until I decide, I figured I could spend a little time with my friend. Hopefully my next step comes to me. Which would help you relax more?”

“Hmm?” She breaks her concentration on my jawbone and instead brings her gaze to my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well… if I said I was leaving town tomorrow, would that make this easier for you, or harder?”

“This?” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth and worries what I so desperately want to taste. “A one-night stand?”

I smirk. “I guess that’s what I mean. Whatever happens, whether we fuck all night, or spend our time throwing rocks at passing cars, would me leaving tomorrow be better? Or would me staying be better?”

“I…” She considers for a moment before settling on a shrug. “I don’t know. If you leave, then I never have to see you around or feel embarrassed because I wanted to experience casual sex with a man I don’t even know.” Her cheeks redden. “But if you stay, then I guess I’ll feel less… cheap. Not like a filthy truck-stop that a traveler passed through out of desperation.”

I bark out a laugh and throw my arm over her shoulder. Turning us both, I start walking toward the lake in the middle of town. “I’ll have you know that I’m not desperate. And you’re not a filthy stop-off I’m being forced to make. You’re… caviar. Something I’d like to try once in my life. A little fancy, a little classy. Not everyone gets to experience your flavors, but even a starving man doesn’t crave caviar. They want a two-dollar steak and mashed potatoes. Cheap and fills his belly.”

“I don’t…” She looks up at me, then in front of us again as she laughs. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not. Not even a poor, starving, desperate man would want me? Wow.”

I dip my free hand into my pocket and keep our pace slow. Leisurely and relaxed. “I mean you’re unreachable. Exclusive, in that many won’t ever get a taste. Do you like living with another chick? Do you have pillow fights in the nude often?”

She digs her elbow into my ribs and snorts. “At least three times a day. And when we’re not filming for OnlyFans, we dress up in our old cheerleader uniforms and sell pictures of our feet.”

I peer to the stars above and scoff. “And you say you can’t afford to live alone. One snap of your panties a week and you’re set.”

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