as she says and toss it into her trash bucket.
We dress quietly. I look everywhere but her.
How do I fix this?
I can’t come clean right here, right now. That would be horrifying for us both.
“So, you available for dinner tonight?” I ask.
She fastens her pants. “You asking me out?”
“Seems like we might want to do something outside of work.”
She doesn’t say anything else, and I wonder if I’m wrong that she wants more of me. Maybe a bang with an employee, to do the power play, was all she was after.
“I’d like that,” she says, finally.
My shoulders relax about a mile.
“Should I pick you up or do you want to meet?”
“How about we meet here? Out front?”
“Okay. Eight?”
She nods.
We dress quickly. The mood has shifted, as if now we’re thinking about all the things this could be.
I know I am.
And all the ways I’m going to screw it up.
22
Nova
I have all afternoon to think about what’s happened between me and Jason over the last couple of days.
I feel utterly out of control. Scenes flash through my head. Me on the mixing table. In my office. Twice!
And now we’re going on an actual date.
I search through my closet, finding nothing to wear other than thrift-store camo, tank tops, and loose sweatshirts. I’m trying to save my money for school, and I don’t have time to shop anyway, so I head to my mom’s closet.
She has some new things, courtesy of my school loan.
I find a simple black skirt that should work. I don’t know where we’re going, but if it’s what Jason’s used to, it will be nicer than any restaurant I’ve ever been to.
I search a bit more and find a silky, dark-red button-up blouse. What should go underneath?
I don’t own fancy lingerie, but I do have a few lacy things I deemed too uncomfortable to bother with, so they aren’t worn out.
But shoes. I can’t exactly wear Army boots with this ensemble. Mom and I aren’t the same size.
Didn’t I go to a funeral once? I bought a pair of black shoes for that.
I head to my room and lay the skirt and blouse on the bed, glad to have time alone with my thoughts. I dig through my closet.
Mom’s not here, off to walk Leah home from school. She’s been extra motherly since last weekend, when she hadn’t come home and I had to take my sister to work.
But there will be no hiding that I’m going on this date. I share a room with my sister, so she’ll notice when I start putting on makeup after dinner.
It’s not like I haven’t dated before. But none of those other short-lived relationships have felt anything like this.
Jason Packwood.
I locate the shoes. They’re cheap but pristine, only worn once or twice. I lie back on the bed and imagine Jason’s face in the water stains on the ceiling.
He’s something.
But what do I know about him, really?
He’s a friend of the Pickle family. Close enough that he considers their grandmother his own Grammy.
They’re willing to go out on a limb for him. Even Jace Pickle’s assistant. Although she did have some choice words about his bratty attitude.
Maybe it’s time for some good old-fashioned cyber stalking.
I head to my desk and pull out my old laptop. It might have been invasive or weird to snoop while he was an unpaid intern forced on me by my boss.
But now, I think I have cause to look him up.
I power up the machine and type Jason Packwood into a search box.
It’s a far more common name than I would’ve thought. There are vice presidents. A cardiologist. A real estate agent.
I scroll and scroll, but I don’t see anybody that matches the Jason I know.
I finally spot a teen boy with similar features and click on the image.
It’s from a small New York newspaper, talking about Jason Packwood’s football legacy at the local high school.
I peer closer. I think it’s him. His hair is longer and there’s no facial scruff. But the eyes are just as bright, and he bears that same cocky smile.
This Jason Packwood was a senior twelve years ago. My Jason, according to his driver’s license, is thirty.
The math adds up.
Now that I have a direct hit, I add the new details to see if I can narrow anything else down. I scroll through the potential Facebook matches. LinkedIn.
But there’s nothing after 2008. Jason graduates high school and seems to disappear.
I click back on the football article and search the archives. Finally,