Fated Shot

Chapter 10

Jack

She’s laughing now, which is a good sign, right?

When I knocked on her door and saw what she was wearing, I wasn’t entirely sure I remembered my own name let alone how to hold a conversation. She seems more nervous than usual, but hell, it can’t be anything compared to how I feel. I’ve called to check on our reservation three times today, on the last call they even got the manager on the line to confirm.

I don’t know how any of this works, the dates, dating, or getting to know each other. I’ve kept my circle small, and I’ve never ventured away from it until the day she walked into Cordelia’s and derailed my life in the span of one minute. Now she’s here, sitting in the passenger seat of my car, smelling of peaches and vanilla and looking like a goddamn dream. I steal a quick look over at her, jeans hugging to every curve of her body, thick thighs resting on my leather seats and… NOPE. Bad idea.

I force myself to focus on the road, desperately trying to hide the bulge forming in my jeans. I’m fucking hopeless.

It takes less than ten minutes until we’re pulling up in front of the restaurant. I found a great parking spot just a few steps away. Putting the car in park, I pull up my Green P app and pay, gotta love modern-day conveniences.

“One sec, let me grab your door,” I say to Mia as she reaches for the handle .

Running out, I open the door and help her down. She grabs my hand for just a moment as the contact sends an instant shock of excitement to my system. It’s followed by a thundering crash the moment she drops it to pull her jeans up a little higher on her waist. This rollercoaster of emotions is not me. I’m the one to keep my cool, but there’s a dull ache in my stomach, and my nerves return in an instant. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I need this to go well.

I try to push down the thoughts that have been plaguing me for the last day as I guide us inside, where we are immediately ushered to our table.

La Cantina is my favorite hidden gem. Amazing ambiance, great food, and with its distinct Day of the Dead vibe, the low lighting and loud music bodes well for a bit of privacy.

Sitting down face to face, I finally have a chance to really look at her. She’s stunning. I’ve never seen her hair quite so curly. It’s pulled up, showcasing her full face as it cascades down past her shoulders. She’s been reading over the menu for a while, but I can’t imagine she hasn’t noticed me staring.

Say something to her, you weirdo.

“The uh, guac is really good if you, uh, like, um… avocado?” I ask, cringing internally and instantly regretting opening my mouth.

To my surprise, she giggles, and it’s the most fucking beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“I like avocado,” she says reassuringly, looking up from her menu. It feels like a rush of warmth anytime she even looks in my direction.

Our waitress walks over to our table, and I don’t miss her hand unnecessarily grazing over my forearm as she pours us water or the way she’s addressing me almost exclusively as she runs through the daily special .

“I think we’ll need a moment,” I say as politely as I can muster.

“Everything is pretty good here, can’t really go wrong,” I let out, nervously trying to fill the empty space between us. Her glance is soft and attentive but hesitant as she nods politely and returns to her menu.

We’re still scanning our options when the waitress returns, giving Mia an obvious once-over before snapping, “Ready to order?” harshly at her.

Mia doesn’t look phased, though, maintaining her composure as she orders her food. The waitress begrudgingly jots it down without so much as a smile until she turns to me.

“And what can I get you, handsome, ” she says, batting her eyes, leaning down on the table, seemingly to throw her tits in my face.

Mia diverts her eyes immediately as if she’s the one intruding on something. I think the fuck not.

“Steak tacos,” I say to her gruffly, barely giving her more than a second look.

My eyes remain on Mia before I add, “And we’ll split the chips and guacamole, please .”

“You got it,” she replies, placing her hand again on my forearm before turning and leaving. I snap my arm back off the table, returning my attention to Mia, desperately trying to read her expression.

“Does that happen a lot?” she asks, a mix of something I can’t pinpoint in her voice.

“Uh, not really,” I begin, but decide on sharing the truth with her instead. “Well, sometimes, but you just get used to it I guess. It’s worse when I’m out with the guys, but it happens sometimes.” The truth is, the attention comes whether I like it or not. Unwarranted touches, whispers in my ear, shameless attempts to get my attention… It’s just part of the territory .

She nods, seemingly thinking to herself for a moment before I decide to change the subject. “So, how are you liking it in the city?”

“It’s nice, feels a lot like New York, just with friendlier people.”

“Mm, yeah, similar vibes for sure. Do you miss it?”

“New York?” she asks, as I nod.

“Not much, it feels like a fresh start and it’s so nice living close to my parents again.” I see a little bit of what I’m guessing is embarrassment painting her face. “Lame I know, but it was always just the three of us.”

“It’s not lame at all. It’s nice.” I subconsciously reach over to grab her hand, but I stop myself just short, laying my palm flat on the table.

“Are you close with your family?”

I hesitate, trying to figure out the best way to share something like this on a first date. A grim feeling washes over me the moment it leaves my mouth.

“My mom passed away when I was fourteen and uh, my dad and I aren’t close.” More like I haven’t seen or spoken to him since, well I honestly can’t even remember, but that feels like at least a third date kind of topic.

Her face warps into one of genuine care. This time, she’s the one reaching for me, actually making contact. She rests her hand on mine as she lets out an, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Way to kill the mood, Jack.

“It’s okay. I ended up with family friends, uh, Penn Brooks, he’s actually on the team. His parents, they took me in. You may have seen them at family skate when you uh—”

“Body slammed into you?” she asks, clearly noticing my itch to change the subject.

I chuckle, “Exactly. ”

Our waitress returns carrying our appetizer and actually has the audacity to wink at me before turning and leaving. This time, Mia shifts uncomfortably in her seat, looking down at her lap. Irritation starts to simmer inside me, this is not the impression I want to leave her with. I’ve dreamed of this for weeks and I’m fully blowing it.

Before I even have a chance to control the situation, I hear her soft voice. “Twenty questions?”

“Sounds like an interrogation,” I say, grabbing a chip, but the relief of a topic change is already lightening the vibe.

“It’s a good way to get to know someone, I think. We can go back and forth if it makes you feel better. Want to play?”

I nod.

“Ok, I’ll go first.” She pauses for a moment to think. “What’s your favorite color?”

I can’t help the smile that forms. “What’s my favorite color? That’s your hard-hitting question?”

“Starting slow. Go on, let’s hear it.”

“Gray, what’s yours?”

“Nope, find your own question,” she quips back.

“So many rules…” I mock. “Do you have a favorite place you’ve lived?”

“Wyndham, by far, I can never get enough.”

“Can’t blame you. It’s a special place for sure,” I say, nodding in agreement. I could absolutely see myself there full-time. I know I’ve only really experienced it during its peak season, but I can’t imagine anything better than it being snow covered and empty in the thick of winter.

“Any nicknames growing up?”

“Jack is my nickname,” I state matter-of-factly.

She stops, chip midway to her mouth. “Jack is not your real name? ”

“Is that a second question?” I smirk at her before continuing, “I’ll let this one slide, rule breaker. But I’m technically James Brody.”

“James—that’s a really nice name.”

Just the way my name sounds coming out of her mouth is enough for me to consider a permanent change. Actually, now that I think of it, if she’d decided to call me Steve, I’d happily become Steve Brody.

I think for another moment. “Did you have a nice birthday?” I’ve never really been one to enjoy my birthday, but celebrating her? It’s a travesty it’s not a national holiday.

It looks like a pang of discomfort crosses her face. “It was… mediocre.”

“Care to elaborate?” I add, genuinely intrigued at her vague reply.

“Is that a second question?” she mocks in an attempt to sound like me. The laugh that slips out of my mouth takes even me by surprise. She’s a secret comedian, I’ll give her that much.

“I liked the cake, but everything else, not so much.” Before I have a chance to probe for more details, she adds, “What’s your favorite cookie?”

I want to push her on it, but in the interest of keeping it light, I continue.

“Lemon shortbread. Random, I know. My mom used to make them in the summer, and a few weeks ago Harold had some in his displa—” My mouth shuts as I process. “You made the lemon shortbread, didn’t you?”

She smiles so brightly, her eyes sparkling. “Yep. Aaand now it’s my turn again.”

“I didn’t even ask a question,” I oppose, while she just continues looking at me, a slow smile reforming as she waits for me to connect the dots .

Making note to not phrase my follow ups as a question next time, I reply, “Fine, feisty, your turn.”

“Why’d you walk with me that night at the barbecue?” Her tone turning more serious this time. So much for keeping things light. I gulp down, deciding my best course of action and settling on honesty.

“I’d been dying to talk to you for weeks and couldn’t miss my opportunity.”

She continues to stare at me, leaning in slightly, confusion swimming in her brilliant green eyes. “Why?”

“Ah, ah, ah, my turn.” I quip back, wagging my hand at her.

This time, she laughs. “Fine, make it a good one then.”

Our main course arrives, and with it comes our dark haired waitress whose shirt is definitely pulled down even lower than before. It looks like Mia’s noticed too and it’s like I can feel her retreating back into her shell.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I let out the moment we’re alone again.

“Sure,” she says, but there’s a hesitancy in her voice that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

I hold her gaze. Though she struggles to meet my eyes, my silence eventually draws her in. “You make me nervous.”

She blinks, breaking the contact before replying in a tone of disbelief. “I make you nervous?”

I nod and watch as she studies my face, probably to see if I'm still joking around. I’m not, but I continue before she can dig further. “So, what’s your favorite movie?”

I feel like we’ve successfully managed to get back on the rails. Mia’s opening up, albeit slowly, and I love it. By the time we’ve finished our food, trouble-in-an-apron walks over one last time as she places the bill in the middle of the table.

Mia starts to reach for it as soon as the waitress sets it down. My gaze hardens as I lay my hand on top of it, pulling it toward me before she gets a chance. It’s those NHL reflexes, they never fail me.

“I’m paying,” I say firmly.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” she says, fumbling around in her purse to pull out her card. “Let’s split it.” Abso-fucking-lutely not.

Apron pipes up, speaking only to me. “I can totally split it, it’s not a problem at all.”

Ignoring her, I focus only on Mia who looks like she’s about to chime in again, but I cut her off before she has a chance to do so.

“You’re not paying, beautiful,” I say as I put my card down.

That seems to do the trick as Apron huffs, clearly annoyed, and Mia’s cheeks turn bright red, which I’m finding is almost too easy to do. I love it.

We make it back to Parkside Place, and only one question remains, except it’s not my turn. As we stop in front of her door, she turns slowly toward me. “Jack, was this a date?”

Her voice is full of uncertainty, and I can see her searching my face for some kind of reassurance. I’m stuck. I thought it was a date, but the fact that she’s asking can’t be a good sign. She’s just staring up at me, wide eyes piercing my soul, like she’s trying to read my mind, and I can’t even start to come up with a response. I want to shout, “Of course it was!” but no words come out.

Shit, what the hell was I doing going on a date with her?

“Never mind, i-it was a silly question,” she says, pulling out her keycard and tapping it over the lock. “Goodnight, Jack.”

Fuck. No, I don’t want her to leave. Panic envelops me at the thought of her walking away.

“It was a date,” I call out, desperate and hoarsely.

Moving closer until my body is towering in front of hers, I slowly lift one hand to graze her jaw. Her lips part as she lets out a light gasp at the contact. Her eyes swim with uncertainty, as her pulse races beneath my hand. I’m locked in on her rosy lips, they look like they’re waiting for me to do something. Just do .

Leaning down, I touch my lips to hers, it’s gentle, but it still sends a shockwave through my system, fire erupting in my stomach. We part after a moment. I release her jaw, her eyes are wide, dark lashes looking up at me as she stares into mine.

Her gaze moves back to my lips as her tongue appears, and she agonizingly slowly wets her own. My mind races and my heart stills for a moment before I feel her tug my shirt with both of her fists. Tumbling toward her, we fall into her apartment. This time, when we connect, it’s hungrier, more wild. She throws her arms around me as her hands settle in the hair at the nape of my neck.

My heart is thudding so fast I struggle to stay standing, but her mouth opens ever so slightly, and I take my opportunity. I slip my tongue in, cautiously exploring her mouth. She tastes so fucking sweet. As I swirl my tongue around hers, a soft and low moan escapes her lips, and I’m driven into a frenzy. I can’t help myself as I reach down, grabbing the back of her thighs, lifting them up around my waist. I turn and drive her into the wall, her chest pressing against mine as we continue to explore each other.

I’m painfully hard already, my erection straining against my jeans. She must feel it, too, because the moment I drop my kisses to her neck, she wiggles her hips to graze over it. A low growl escapes me the moment we make contact.

“Bed,” I let out, my voice more gravelly than usual. She looks over her shoulder and motions toward the right. Straightening up, still carrying her, I head in that direction. Her mattress is lying on the floor, the bed filled to the brim with frilly throw pillows as I gently lower her down. She’s lying there in the middle of the bed, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. I watch her, my hunger growing .

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say as I lower myself over her, supporting my weight on the hands placed on either side of her head.

Leaning in, she arches her neck up to close the distance, and I decide right then that her lips on mine is the best feeling in the world. Flipping us on our side, her hair sprawls out around us before I pull her head closer to me. We blend together again; I just can’t get enough. Her breath hitches when I rest my hand on her waist, and she gasps as I pull her body closer to mine. The way she’s moving and the sounds she’s making are better than anything I could have ever dreamed. If it wasn’t for my hands roaming her body, there’s no fucking way I’d believe this was real.

Her hands explore my chest and her soft skin so delicately touching mine is a turn-on I didn’t expect. As she drags her hand down my torso, I grumble in approval, closing my eyes. Leaning into the feeling, my palm lands on the sexy, soft part of her stomach.

Feeling her body tense, I whip open my eyes to meet hers, a vulnerability present within them.

“Hey,” I say, gently stroking her cheek. “You set the pace okay?” I tuck one strand of hair behind her ear. She stares blankly at me, blinking with a dazed look about her. Is that the look of regret?

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” she says, leaning back now, creating distance between us. I follow her cue immediately, sitting up. The words hit like a ton of bricks as I force a breath, rubbing a hand down my face.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say, standing up from the mattress. She’s got her knees pulled up to her chest now, not even meeting my eyes.

“Shit, I got carried away,” races out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, I’ll g—”

“I think you should go,” she says at the same time.

My chest sinks, and I can’t do anything but nod. I turn immediately to leave. The lights of the city are dully illuminating her living room as I notice the boxes stacked all around. Laying on top of one of them, there are two big, round, sleepy eyes looking at me. The dark brown fluff ball gives a little “meoww” as I wave my hand toward it.

I continue to the door, opening it, the light of the hallway flooding into the apartment before I step out and gently close it behind me.

How did I fuck this up so badly?