fuckup momentarily forgotten, I get lost in watching the two of them glide around the shiny roller rink floor.
Lydia smiles like the sun as she skates beside him. She reaches out her stupid flirtatious hand and touches him on the arm, and then the shoulder, and then wraps an arm around his hips.
Goodness, does the woman have some sort of tactile disorder? How much does she need to touch him?
I turn my back briefly and bend down to fix my shoe—a shoe that doesn’t need fixing. It’s a Vans slide-on, and I’m wearing no-slip socks.
My brain, though—it needs a reality check. High crime isn’t an option, and more than that, it shouldn’t even be a notion.
I mean, what am I expecting here? The man is on dates with these women. In fact, physical contact is kind of the point. It should excite me because it means I actually have something to say in my articles. I have words to fill my word count.
So why in the world am I feeling so dang grouchy about it?
Am I just jealous of people who actually have prospects? Has my mind somehow latched on to the first decent man I’ve come into contact with since Raleigh and I split up? I mean, it’s not like I’ve known this guy for longer than a hot minute. My hormones need to calm down and get it together. There are lots of fish in the sea, and I just need to get out and swim with some of them.
I flinch. The idea of getting out and trying to meet men to date makes me want to cry so hard I’d fall face first into a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s.
My God, I’m going to be alone forever.
While Jake skates around with the bubbly cheerleader, I make a mental note to research how much responsibility it requires to own a cat. All in the name of my future spinsterdom, of course.
Jake
Lydia’s overt clinginess nearly forgotten—thank God—I grab Holley’s hand and drag her out of the front seat of her Infiniti with impatience. The sooner I get her out of the car and down on the beach, the sooner we can get the stupid debriefing out of the way and get on with the fun stuff. Although, I have to admit, with the way Holley is trying not to smile right now, I might just have to pepper in some fun right in the beginning.
She eyes me with an amused mix of contempt and playfulness, and I waggle my eyebrows.
“Get a move on, slow poke.”
Her eyelids flutter as she snorts, but she doesn’t let go of my hand when I shut her door behind her either. I take that as a sign of tacit compliance, so I don’t waste any time pulling her away from the car.
Her eyes go from bright and beautiful to greatly opposed when I lead her from the parking lot and onto the sand and then take off toward the water, gently dragging her behind me.
“No!” she yells vehemently, digging in her heels and pulling as hard as she can. It’s not exactly the enthusiasm I’d like to see, but it’s worlds better than the dejected look she had on her face at the skating rink tonight.
It’s a look I’m finding I hate witnessing, and I might even go so far as to say I’d do just about anything to change it.
“Relax, Holley. It’s going to be fun. I promise.”
“No!” she shouts, pretending to be opposed. “I’m not going back in that water, Jake Brent! It’s nighttime, for God’s sake! It’s dark!”
I laugh outright before scooping her up in my arms and running toward the water at full speed. She shrieks—and giggles—the whole way, slapping at my shoulders with the strength of a feeble mouse.
“I thought you were getting back into yoga… You might need to work a little harder,” I tease with a fake wince, and she smacks me again, a little harder this time.
Still, though, it’s not hard at all.
“Shut up and put me down!” she exclaims, just as I creep into the edge of the water and pretend to drop her.
She screams, snorts, then grabs on to my shoulders like a spider monkey, laughing her ass off. “Jake, I swear,” she breathes out between giggles, “if you drop me in this water, I will set you up on another date with Barbie Bianca. But this time, it’ll be a couples trivia night.”
“That’s fucking dirty, Holley,” I respond, an amused smirk already making