Chapter Nine

Jamie

I finish my set and head back to the bar.

        The energy tonight is hot, the echo of the crowd bouncing off the tin ceiling and ancient honeycomb tiled floors as I move around the tables. Rich was good enough to take my closing shift for me so I can get the hell out of here with the hot blonde at the end of the bar. The quicky we had in the bathroom earlier did nothing to get a certain green-eyed woman out of my system.

        I’ve barely had a thought cross my mind since yesterday that didn’t involve Eva. Between the subway and our shift together, I barely resisted pouncing on the poor girl during our walk home. I need to get a fucking hold on myself. I need to go back to never thinking of her unless I have to. Or at least stop wondering what she looks like when she comes.      

        Do her eyes spark like when she got angry in the hall?

        Does she have that feverish glow on her skin like after she danced?

        Does she shake?

       God the fucking shaking. I wish I could unnotice the way her body vibrates when she’s overwhelmed. It’s like she can’t contain whatever is raging through her and I can only imagine what that kind of surge does to her legs when a face is buried between them.

I bet she cries when she comes.

Fuck. I run a hand through my hair, pulling at the root to get my head straight as I count my tips. Or attempt to count my tips, I keep losing track…

       And what the hell has gotten into her lately? I wouldn’t even have this problem if she didn’t decide out of the blue she wasn’t intimidated or whatever. Shit, I thought the transition from frozen-with-terror to over-eager-awkward was bad… but this new attitude? It has me fucked up. 

     I crack my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension. I need to bury myself in this chick tonight. A good rough fuck should have me back to normal in no time. I glance over at the blonde, she looks kinky too. I’ll be good as new by the morning.

       Nina is sitting at the bar probably texting Luke to come get her. She looks up, following my gaze and rolls her eyes. “Barf.” 

        “Don’t be jealous.” I chuckle, recounting my tips.

        “Please,” she snorts, keeping her eyes down as her thumb flies across the glass screen. “She looks like she has the clap.” 

        “You sound awful bitter.”

        “Skeeved.” She drops her phone on the bar and takes a sip of her water bottle. “Why don’t you try dating a girl who doesn’t look like she hooks for blow on the side?”

        “Barf.” I laugh. 

         “Ugh, please don’t die alone.” 

          I’m about to tell her that’s exactly my plan when her phone pings with a message. The moment her eyes land on the screen she gasps like some melodramatic movie star and lets out a resounding cackle. 

           “Oo-Ooh my god!” She whoops, bouncing on the stool. With quick fingers she snatches her phone, zooming in on whatever has her in such a state. “Well if anyone was gonna do it besides me, it’d be Dec.” 

       “What he’d do this time?” I ask, not at all interested. Everything about Luke’s brother is like sandpaper on my ass. I can’t wait until the antagonistic fuck face heads back to New York on Monday. He’s supposed to be staying with Ryan but the asshole makes every excuse to get in my way and annoy the fuck out of me. As if pissing me off is his favorite hobby.

       “He got my girl to Turn! Up!” Nina beams with pride as she flips her phone to me so I can see the picture Luke just sent her.

        It’s Eva.

        In tiny tight ass shorts and a cropped hoodie.

        Holding a shot glass.

        Her head thrown back laughing in the arms of mother fucking Declan.

        Nina squeals with glee, completely unaware of the stroke I’m two seconds away from having. “I gotta get home fast. I don’t wanna miss this!” She puts her phone to her ear. “Get your ass down here to get me!” Then hangs up and starts tapping her fingers impatiently.

        Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m pushing my tips (that I definitely don’t have to spare) towards Rich. “Finish my side work and I’ll take whatever shift you want to switch this month.” I don’t wait for a response as I grab my shit and jerk my chin to Nina, “Let’s go.”

        “Hey!” The blonde I just completely forgot existed calls from her seat. “What about  me?”

     “Change of plans.”

**********

Eva

I bite into the lime after downing shot number five.

It goes down warm and spicy as I keep my eyes closed tight, waiting for the sting to pass, and throw my arms up once I’ve crossed to the other side of the burn. Ryan, Luke, and Declan all cheer to my victory.

        “See, told ya it gets better,” Declan says.

         I swing my gaze over the man who looks so much like Luke, it’s uncanny. But where his little brother is all easy good nature, Declan carries an ever present sharp glint of mischief in his gray eyes.

         I’m here for it.

         “You sure did” I smile real big. “Seems you’re an expert.” We’ve been having the most fun. My night has been spent with this trio of goofballs. We set up a makeshift bar on the back patio, lit the fire pit and threw a mini party. In between drinks, the boys regaled me with stories of past shenanigans, trolled each other mercilessly, and on Declan’s part–shamelessly flirted with me.

        And then there’s the stories of pissing Jamie off. It’s crazy what scares the pee out of me, seems to make Declan Carson’s day.

To each their own.

  “I’m good for more than just drinking,” he replies with a wolfish grin.

        “Oh, I’m so sure,” I laugh, booping his boopable nose. “You don’t get all that swagger without something to back it up.” 

        “I do enjoy fun.”

        “Usually at a surly someone’s expense.” Ryan chuckles into his drink.

“Jamie loves me deep down he just doesn’t know it.”

“And he never will if you have your way.” Luke reaches over smacking his brother upside the head before filling Ryan’s glass with a fresh shot.

        “What’s the deal with you two?” I flop back on the lounger crossing my arms, already a little mad about the answer.

It’s definitely Jamie’s fault.

        “I don’t have a problem with him at all,” Declan shrugs. “Jamie might be a Grumpy Gale but he’d take a bullet for Luke, which makes him good people in my book.”

        “Then what’s his problem?” I shoot up and push him. “You’re a fuckin’ delight! You two should be like bffffffs or something.”

        “Eves, you know he’s weird with people he doesn’t know well.” Luke says as he lifts his glass for Ryan to fill. 

That’s so Luke. He never makes excuses for Jamie. It’s obvious he accepts his friend for who he is. He doesn’t try to change him or mold him into the person other people think he should be.

We don’t deserve Luke!

        “Yeah,” Declan scratches his jaw and shrugs. “Jamie hates pretty much anyone he doesn’t know. But fucking with him makes Ry laugh, so Delahunt must be sacrificed to the greater good.”

“Greater good!” Luke echoes, thumping his chest.

I swing my gaze to Ryan expecting a new story about the chant but he looks anything but ready to discuss it.

        “Okay, Eves you promised!” He’s still smiling; those chocolate eyes are still calm and level but there’s a weird edge to his voice. He points both fingers at me. “Let’s see all those new dance moves you and Neen keep going on about.”

  Holy subject change. But I’m ready to dance so I’ll allow it.

  “Give me some Lizzo and let’s doooo this!” I round his patio table and get ready to take my opening position just as Nina’s window slams open with a resounding rattle.

        “Doll, don’t you dare do the Fitness dance without me!” She demands, hurrying down the steps. “Dec, pour me a mothafuckin’ shot!” 

Yay! My bestie is finally here! 

        So, why are my eyes super glued to the formidable force behind her?

        I haven’t seen Jamie since last night and I didn’t realize how thirsty I’ve been for a sip of him. He looks hot as hell in his fitted black hoodie over his work tee shirt and dark washed jeans. The ink on his neck glows under the city lights and I really want to lick it like a lollipop.

        Wait… I think that’s a song about licking something else.

        He pauses to light a cigarette then takes the stairs slowly. Like he’s dragging his feet because he doesn’t want to be here or something. The steady pace of his footfalls echoes through the patio like a grandfather clock sounding midnight in a great hall. It’s bullshit though.

        He doesn’t fool me.

        First— Jamie doesn’t go or do anything he doesn’t want to do. Second— he’s not calm. There’s this coiled energy lying just below the surface that I can feel from here. Despite his tempered pace, and bored expression, there’s a storm raging in him… and I think I just might be in the mood for some rain tonight.

        Except I’m mad at him. What kind of person doesn’t like Declan?

        I track Jamie through narrowed eyes as he heads over to the guys and takes a seat. He lets the smoke drift from his mouth as he says his half hearted hellos. The tattooed sour puss doesn’t say shit to me but I guess he doesn’t really have to since his own gaze is zeroed in on me.

        Butterflies erupt in my stomach. I know this happens every time I see his hot ass face but I’m blaming the alcohol tonight. There’s something in the blue staring me down that’s new but I can’t put my finger on what it is. 

It doesn't matter. I have better things to do than pick his black hole brain apart.  I rush over to Nina throwing my arms around her neck and squishing my best girl to my chest. He can get an eyeful of my ass if he wants to stare.

        I bet he likes my ass. 

        Damnit, I’m no good at ignoring him.

        Focus Eva!

        “Neeeenaaaah! I missed you!” I shout giving my bestest friend a loud hard kiss on her cheek as I hug her harder, trying to infuse all of my love for this gorgeous baddie into one long squeeze. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

        “Are you kidding me?” She squeaks, excitedly hugging me back. “As soon as I saw you and Dec getting rich-girl-drunk with the good the good shit I rushed right over. I want IN!” 

        She takes her shot from Declan, throws it back, and promptly snaps her fingers at him for another. If any other human did that I would cringe, but my Nina is a ninja when it comes to walking the fine line between lovably gumptious and rude as fuck.

        “Get ready for some sexiness.” She coos at Luke.

        “Leave him and marry me,” Dec cries.

        Nina flips him off then takes my hand and pulls me back to my spot. 

“Hit it!”

        The number is quick, it only lasts about half of the song but what the routine lacks in length it makes up for in fun. There’s butt shaking and hair whipping and an unrestrained spirit to the steps that can be difficult to find with ballet. We plunge into a deep squat, bouncing twice then slide out our left foot, snaking our arms up as we rise then dive over to touch our outstretched leg. It’s a playful and flirty number that bumps to the music and kindles a bright joy in my heart.

        We finish to a round of applause but I’m not ready to stop. I want to stoke this joy I’m feeling. I want to spend the rest of the night doing what I love most with the people who make this place home. 

“Time to make this bitch a dance party!” I shout, grabbing Nina’s hand and spinning her around before striking a disco pose of my own.

        “Hot damn I love Drunk Eva!” Luke laughs as he shimmies over to us like he’s leading a conga line. “Can we keep her? Please?”

        I break into the running man.

        “Please?” He begs. Then swings Nina into a dip.

        “You couldn’t handle that ass!” Declan calls from his seat. He’s got his arms stretched out along the back of the lounger and he’s smiling like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen in ages.

        “Neither could you, Swagger Boy!” I call back. He blows me a kiss in response.

        Gah. He really is my favorite.

        Shit, I need a dance partner. Luke stole mine.

        “Come on guys! Dance with meeeeeee.” I boogie my way over to them and climb on to the table, only stumbling a little because I’m such a bad bitch.

        Jamie’s arm instantly shoots out to steady me. He scowls up with his jaw ticking and I smile. I was about to seek out Ryan or Declan but I remember now that I’m craving a storm tonight and Jamie Delahunt is as close as a girl can get to one.

        “You.” With alcohol burning recklessness through my system, I crouch down, bringing my knees to my chest as I lean forward just a little to poke him playfully in the chest. “Dance with me.”

        “Do I look like someone who dances?” Ahh… distant thunder. Like a storm rolling in on the shore. My new favorite sound.

        “Do I look like someone who cares if you don’t?” I giggle and take his hand, giving him a light pull. “Come onnnnnn. I believe in you!”

        He looks like he’s going to resist but then his eyes cut over to Declan.

        “Fuck it.” He grunts, flicking his cigarette into the fire pit. He stands and turns to Declan. “Pour me a shot, Fuck Face.”

        “Tell me you love me first.” He retorts with a happy smirk.

        Ryan intervenes and yanks the bottle from his friend’s grasp. “Damnit Dec, don’t mess this up for us!” He pours the shot, passing it up to Jamie. “Drink up twinkle toes.”       

   Jamie flips him off before he throws the tequila back and steps up onto the table with me.

        “Now what?” He asks with a put out sigh.

        I gaze up into his sexy face with a dopey smile. “I’m really happy right now.”

        “No, you’re really drunk,” he answers, looking down the length of his nose and hating fun.

        He’s so grumpy. I wonder what makes him smile...

        “We doing this or not?” 

        “Okay, okay, okay,” I snatch Jamie’s hand, ignoring the thrill that runs through me at touching him. “I’m gonna teach you some fancy footwork.” I point to my feet. “Watch me. One...” I hop so my feet are crossed. “Two...” I hop out and put my weight on my right leg. “Three...” I hop back into the crossed leg position.” Four...” I hop out again this time putting my weight on my left leg.

        “Now try it with me.” We go slowly at first but in no time at all we’re moving smoothly to the peppy music. “Ah! You're doing great!” I cry, as we bounce back and forth.

        Once we have a nice groove going I get adventurous. Turning so that he’s against my back, I pull his arms around my waist. As a dancer I’m used to having hands on my body but the second we make contact I feel sparks under my skin where he’s touching and a small gasp catches in my chest.

        “I’m going to step on your foot.” He murmurs huskily into my ear. His breath dances down my neck as he speaks, sending chills through my whole body.

        God I love his voice.

         “Relax. You’re doing great.” I drop my head back against him. He smells like smoke and crisp night air. It feels so good here, wrapped in his arms.

        We should totally make out.

        Oh my god that’s the best idea I’ve ever had!

        I whip around about to share my genius idea with him when two things happen: the earth tilts hard to the left sending me almost teetering off the table and Declan calls up to me.

        “Hey Sweetness! Get that fine ass down here and do another shot with me.”

         More tequila!

        “Fuck off Dec.” Jamie growls, as his arms band around my body to keep me steady.

        “But tequila...” I whine, swaying a little bit.

        “No, you’re done,” he steps down from the table and reaches up, wrapping his arm around my waist and setting me on my feet. “Say goodnight to everyone.”

        “No!” I stomp my foot. “I’m havin’ fun!” Jamie’s not making me leave before I’m ready again.. Things are different now. He can’t just scare me away with his scowls.

        I changed my mind. I don’t want to make out with him anymore. He doesn’t deserve to kiss me.

        “Believe me, you won’t be much longer.” He says quietly, like he’s trying to spare me from prying eyes.

        I glare, swaying to and fro.

        “Just... try to trust me.” He sighs echoing my words from yesterday.

        Manipulative bastard

        “Fine.” I pout petulantly then stumble when I turn to leave but Jamie scoops me up saving me from hitting the ground.

        “Ry, I’m taking her through your place so we don’t have to deal with the fire escape. That cool?” He calls over his shoulder.

        “No problem. Night Eves!” He calls back.

        Luke and Nina hurry over and she smacks a kiss on my forehead. “Night doll!”

        “Don’t forget to hydrate.” Luke gives my knee an encouraging pat.

        “Dream about me, Sweetness,” Declan calls after us. “Hey Delahunt! Make sure you take good care of my girl!” 

        Jamie’s hands tighten on me as we head through Ryan’s swanky as hell kitchen. I giggle, waving happily back to my new bestie over Jamie’s shoulder.

        Swagger boy is the best.

        “Fucking asshole.” He grits out.

        “No he’s not—you are.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and I instantly regret it. Jamie may be the worst most of the time but right now he’s actually being kind of sweet. 

        “Dec only fucks with you because he knows he gets under your skin.” My head flops against his shoulder. “Even I can see that. Stop giving him the satisfaction and he’ll lay off.”

        He makes a noncommittal noise in his throat as we head up the stairs to my door. The silence is amicable which is new for us, but I’m too chatty to tolerate it for very long.

         “You’re a pretty good dancer.” I smile, glancing up at him.

        “Yeah well,” The side of his mouth ticks up for just a second. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He sets me back on my feet so he can open my door.

         I flop with faultless grace against the wall and giggle, pointing at him with an accusatory finger. “Ha! How bitter did that compliment taste?”

        “Jesus,” he turns to me with his brows raised in surprise. “You always this feisty when you drink?” 

        I shrug, tipping a little to the side from the movement but I catch myself before I fall over.

        Cat-like reflexes!

         He shakes his head. “Okay lush, let’s get some food in you and put your drunk ass to bed.” 

         His hand snakes around my ribs so I can lean on him to get into my apartment. Every time he touches me I feel hot and chilly all at once and something about the sensation is more intoxicating than the alcohol.

         Once inside, Jamie steers us towards the kitchen and lowers me onto a stool at my counter. He pours me a large glass of water then opens my fridge gathering the ingredients for a grilled cheese. As he’s closing the door I catch sight of The List hanging tattered and proud on my freezer door and light up.

         “Oh! Hand me that paper on the door and the pen!” 

With a quizzical dip to his brows, he does as I ask and I happily set to work finding new things to cross off. 

“Perform my own routine.... Done! Get really, really drunk....Done!” I victoriously run my pen through both items.

Goddamn that really is the best feeling.

        “What are you doing?” He asks as places the sandwiches on the frying pan.

       “It’s my list of all the things I want to do. I’ve been working on it for foreverrrrr.”

       “‘Get really drunk’ is on the list?”

       “Sure is. It’s actually one of the first things I ever put down. I always wanted to know what it’d be like to get fuck-cked up with friends.” I hiccup the last part.

       Jamie chuckles and I love it. “Why didn’t you try it back home.” He asks as he flips the sandwiches. There’s no rancor in his voice; he seems genuinely curious. So I answer honestly.

       “I didn’t have any friends. Most of the stuff on this list requires participants,” I slurp some water before proudly announcing, “You know, since I’ve been here, I’ve crossed off twenty-six items.”  

       “No friends at all?” He asks, completely missing the point.

        “Not a one.” I drop my chin in my hands as I watch him cook. “It was kind of hard to make them when the only place I really had to socialize was dance class, and even then, I was always a mess.”

  This is strange. He’s in my apartment making me a grilled cheese. I feel like everything is backwards. But I like it.

         “You seem to have made friends pretty easily here.”

         “Pssh- sshhh,” I hiccup again. “Just the luck of the draw. Nina could make friends with a paper bag and the guys are sweethearts. ‘Sides most of the people in my life back home sucked anyway.” 

        He snorts, moving the sandwiches around in the pan. I assume he’s about to be a dick, but he surprises the shit out of me when he speaks so softly I almost miss it.

        “Don’t underestimate yourself. You probably saved Nina just as much as she did you.” 

        I’m about to ask him what the hell he means by that but he’s back to asking questions again. “You really didn’t have any friends?”

        “You saw what I was working with when I first got here,” I giggle, remembering my first impression on the group. “Did you want to be friends with me?”

        He doesn’t answer so I continue. “I didn’t even try back in Cali. It was easier to just be invisible.”

        “Sounds lonely,” he murmurs, lifting the sandwiches to check if the bread is toasted.

        “Yeah… it was.” I shrug and sway. “I wanted to be friendly—like so much —I just didn’t know how ya know? So the only thing I care about from my old life is Oscar.”

        “Who’s that?”

        “My Teppaz Oscar Turntable.”

        “Jesus, I thought it was like a pet or something.” He laughs.

        “Oscar is better than a pet!” My hands slap on the counter in outrage. “He plays all my favorite classics.”

        “No shit, you like the classics?” He sounds surprised.

        “YeP!” I pop my P like Nina does when she’s all proud of herself. “Go check out my record collection. It’s right by the window.”

        He makes no move to go look.

        “Go!” I shout with a laugh. I want to know what he thinks of my music.

        With another put out sigh, this one paired with a small smile, he strolls over to my window and thumbs through the sleeves. “Not bad Doe Eyes, you got some good shit here...” 

        Jamie pauses when he hits the frayed edges of my Edith Piaffe record and stares at it like it’s going to bite him or something. After a few seconds he shakes off whatever is freaking him out about it and strolls back to the stove, resuming his work on making my food.

        “Do you like Edith Piaf?” I ask, a little surprised. Most people don’t know her. They’d probably recognize the tune to some of her songs but they usually just know it as one of those old songs.

        Again Jamie chooses not to answer as he turns the stove off and my stomach grumbles distracting me from the conversation. He cuts our sandwiches in half then hands over my plate. I look down at my perfectly cooked grilled cheese and whimper with joy. It’s not squished and it’s nice and golden brown, with just the right amount of cheese oozing from the sides.

The perfect grilled cheese.

        “Can you get me the ketchup, please?” I ask,  eager to devour this deliciousness.

        He looks at me in disgust. But turns to get the ketchup, shaking his head. “Fuck, you’re weird.”

        “Don’t knock it til ya try it.” I squirt a little on the side and dip the corner of my bread in before handing it to him. “Go on.”

        He scrunches his face up. “Gross.”

        “I double dog dare you.” I cock an eyebrow then hiccup again.

        He rolls his eyes and takes a small reluctant bite. “Not bad,” he admits grudgingly.

        “Told ya.” I bite into my sandwich and hum in contentment. “Dis is weelly goo” 

 It’s quiet while we eat but the backwardness of this situation that I liked so much a minute ago is starting to nag at me now.

        “You’re being nice!” I’m pointing at him again as if my finger will get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on.

        “I’m not allowed to be nice?”

        “You don’t like me though.” 

        “I never said that.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, brushing the past months off like no big deal.

        “But you don’t.”

        “You sure about that?”

        “You’re not nice to me.” Shit, I think I said that already.

        “I’m not really nice to anyone, Doe Eyes.”

        I open my mouth to argue but stop when I realize he has a point. I think back to how he interacts with his friends and he’s pretty much always abrasive. “Okay… yeah. You got me there.”

        He laughs humorlessly. As he straightens from the counter and rinses off our dishes he hands me another glass of water and puts everything away. I sip obediently while he works, contemplating what he’d said.

        “Why aren’t you nice to anyone?” I ask.

        He stills at my question and for a second I don’t think he’s going to answer, but then he meets my eyes and states plainly, “You can call me a lot of things, but a fraud isn’t one of them.”

        Fraud? It’s not the term itself, it’s the unnamed note of emotion in his tone as he says it. So what does he think of himself then?

        I’m about to ask him as much when he begins to round the counter. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

        “What? Noooo! I’m not tired!” I whine like I used to when I was four. 

I can’t lie, I’m pretty taken aback by the panic that just seized my lungs at the thought of our time tonight coming to an end.

        He’s going to be all mean again tomorrow.

        Jamie isn’t having it though. “It’s late and you’re hammered. You need to sleep off the rest of the tequila that Fuck Face plied you with.” He says, patiently closing in on my spot at the counter.

        I hop—okay fine—I fall off the stool and scurry out of his reach, narrowly managing to dodge his arm that shoots out to catch me as I round the other side of the counter.

        Ha! Catch me now!

        But I no sooner finish congratulating myself on my superior evasion techniques when I realize that I won the battle but lost the war. I’ve effectively cornered myself in my kitchen. Jamie patiently dogs my steps, not giving up on this bedtime demand. The panic rises and in a last ditch effort to put off the inevitable, I blurt out some needless truth.

        “No! I’m not going to bed! You’ll leave if I do.” 

       God, drunk me is suuuuuch a needy little bitch.

        He stops short only two steps away and blinks like I just told him I know magic.

        I continue anyway because alcohol makes you say really stupid shit. “I like your voice and if you leave, you’ll take all the thunder away.”

        He doesn’t move, continuing to look at me like I’m crazy.

        “Your voice—it reminds me of thunder.” I clarify. Keep up, Delahunt; sheesh.

        Jamie remains frozen in place for a few more seconds, phantom emotions flitting through those pools of blue too fast to decipher. Then he sighs and runs a tired hand down his face. “Five more minutes.”

       “Fifteen.” I counter.

        “Two.”

        “Fine, five minutes but you have to say a lot of stuff!” I pout.

        “What the hell am I supposed to talk about?” He throws his hands up in aggravation, clearly way out of his element. I take a second to really appreciate how adorable this scary broody man looks when he’s embarrassed.

        “I don’t care,” I shrug and tip to the side, reminding myself of the little teapot dance. I giggle before remembering  the deeply important task at hand. “You can sing if you don’t want to talk.”

        It gets weirdly quiet after that. 

        This doesn’t count against my five minutes.

Jamie studies me with this odd pensive expression, something flickers behind his eyes, something sad. He looks tired. Like he’s been doing battle and he’s running out of strength to fight.

  Then he swallows, staring in defeat at the ceiling.

        “Fuck it,” he mutters, reluctantly walking back to Oscar. He puts a record to the turntable and turns back to the kitchen. Seconds later the sound of Edith Piafs’s warm fresh coffee voice sails through my kitchen. 

        And my heart stops.

        The music hurls me into a brief moment of sobriety as it conjures the memories of quiet moments with Miss Ally. She would always sing this song whenever I had a nightmare. When she left, I would listen to the record on Oscar every night before I fell asleep, pretending she was there to make me feel loved. That record player and old vinyl album were all I had left of her.

     Jamie begins to sing. 

He looks resigned to the task and maybe a little bit haunted, but the sound of his voice to this music is exquisite. I’m spellbound as I find my feet shuffling forward to close the distance between us.

        “Dance we me?” I ask in a faint whisper, resting my hand on his shoulder.

        With a slight grimace, he wraps his arm around me, sending tiny shocks of bliss through my veins as he pulls me close. “Might as well, since you’re too drunk to stand.”

        We twirl slowly as he softly sings along to the French lyrics. His husky voice in my ear is like a balm. A cure all. I close my eyes and relish the rich sound.

        Holy. Shit.

        Jamie Delahunt is in my kitchen, slow dancing with me to La Vie en Rose while singing in French. If someone had told me earlier today that this is how I would end my night I would’ve laughed in their face. It’s beyond strange but absolutely perfect all at once.

        Too bad tomorrow can’t be like this.

        “I didn’t realize you speak French.” I murmur.

        “I don’t. My...” he hesitates, his chest tightens under my cheek. “Uh...my mom. She loved this song.” He answers.

        Loved. Past tense.

        “Is she the one who taught you to sing and play?” I ask. He doesn’t answer right away.

        “Yeah.”

        I close my eyes and lay my head against his warm chest listening to his firm heartbeat. It picks up ever so slightly as he waits for my response. I fight through the alcohol fog to properly consider what I should do or say next. 

I can feel it. Drunk or not, I need to get this right.

        I decide not to press for the story or tell him I’m sorry for his loss. I highly doubt he would want my sympathy and it would be selfish to force it on him. I check my curiosity and the knee jerk need to push deeper into the moment and settle for a small statement that I hope tactfully acknowledges her.

       “I’m really glad she did.”

        His chest ceases movement for a handful of seconds as if waiting for something to come next. Eventually, he relaxes and returns to singing the song while I do my best to cement every second to memory. Not just because I’m insanely happy at this moment, but also because I feel like he’s sharing a piece of his mom with me and I don’t want to take his offering for granted.

        The song ends and I go peacefully as Jamie walks me to my room and sets me on my bed. He gently removes my shoes and puts my forgotten school books on the nightstand before getting me under my covers and tucking me in. 

        No one has tucked me in since Miss Ally.

        “Where’s your medicine cabinet?” He asks. I point to the bathroom and he disappears for a moment then returns with a fresh glass of water from the kitchen and some aspirin. He hands me two capsules and the water. “Take these now then take the other two as soon as you wake up.” He instructs, then heads for the window.

        “Hey Jamie…” I turn to my side and tug the covers up to my chin.

        He looks back.

        “I think we just became friends.” I smile.

        For just a second his gaze heats and he looks like he wants to argue. As if friendship with me could never be an option. But then he smiles back, one dimple peaking through his cheek and my heart turns over. I’ve only seen him smile like this once and it was on stage. For it to be directed at me makes my insides turn to jelly.

“Yeah, Doe Eyes,” he says so softly I almost miss it. “I think we did.” Then he climbs out of my window and heads down to the group below.