Jack kept pace with me, our footfalls finding a rhythm. We got to the inlet and I turned quickly and headed back. I was sure that had probably been a natural place to stop and rest and I don’t know... say hi, like a normal person. But I didn’t act normal around him. Following my lead, he smiled at me. As we headed back, I cursed the fact he had his sunglasses and I didn’t. And of course, because of his glasses, when I repeatedly glanced at him, my eyes were drawn straight to his mouth. Ugh. I squinted inelegantly back into the sun.
As we approached my exit, I was heaving with exertion, and probably looked my best again. I slowed and got ready to peel off with a wave, but Jack slowed too and before I could react he reached toward me. I paused, surprised, as he lifted my earbud out of my ear and held it up to his, listening to my music.
“The Cult? I seriously don’t think I’ll ever figure you out,” he said, laughing and gently placing the bud back in my ear. Then he jogged backward for a few steps and gave me a two-fingered salute like he had from his motorcycle that first day, before he turned away and ran off.
*
All day Saturday at the grill I was mentally at home and bodily at work. I guess I was technically ‘mooning’, despite giving myself a mental kick in the ass earlier. Having never gone through ‘mooning’ over someone before, I wasn’t quite sure if that’s what I was doing. Whatever it was, it was embarrassing.
I kept thinking of our run and how hardly a word had been exchanged and how it still felt like an important moment. I was totally reading into it, I knew.
Hector kept catching my eye and winking. I’d told him what the arrangement was between Jack and I, swearing if I heard even one rumor, I would know it was him and tell Paulie I saw him stealing silverware. He had clutched his chest in outrage. “Tienes mi palabra,” he muttered, which I believe, from what I remembered of high school Spanish, meant something along the lines of I had his word. At least I hoped it did.
I had texted Jack right after I showered from my run, letting him know the back door was unlocked. He never responded. In the quiet moments between the lunch and dinner rush, I had almost given in to the temptation to pop home and see if he was there. It was like some kind of bizarre reality home-makeover show, or worse, I was being punked. I expected a camera crew to jump me at any moment.
*
On Sunday morning, the only evidence I had that Jack had been in my house was half missing wallpaper, and a grocery list on the counter along with a request for spackling and sandpaper. His handwriting looked like he’d missed his calling to be a doctor.
We hadn’t talked about whether he’d continue working on the house Sunday and I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Jasper coming by.
I decided to run over to The Pig to get his groceries while most people were in church. Driving straight to his place afterward, I piled the bags outside his door. I rang the bell, and without waiting for a response, maturely hopped down the stairs and back into my truck. It was only when I pulled out of the driveway and noticed his bike wasn’t there that I realized what an ass I was being. I quickly grabbed my phone and texted him.
Me: Your groceries are outside your front door. Sorry I had to run, a friend coming over for lunch today.
My phone chirped back by the time I got to the end of the street.
Late Night Visitor: Thank you.
I hated the prick of disappointment I experienced at his simple text.
*
When Jasper arrived at lunchtime armed with my favorite chicken salad and ‘everything’ on nine grain, I thought I might finally have reached a calm and stoic state of mind.
“Wow, you’ve gotten so much done,” Jasper said as he walked around the house.
“Yep, been working hard,” I said from the kitchen where I busied myself getting plates so I didn’t have to meet his eye. “Grab some waters, would ya? Let’s sit on the porch swing, it’s a stunning day.”
We headed outside and chatted comfortably on the swing as we ate, although he did look at me curiously while I picked out the onions on my sandwich. I loved onions. I noticed what I was doing and resolutely stuffed one of them back into what was left.
“So there’s a guy?”
“What? No!” Jeez, I’d have expected that kind of pointed observation from Jazz. The fact that Jasper noticed meant I was definitely not fooling anyone, or maybe Jazz had told him about Hoodie Guy.
“Right. Do I know him?”
I sighed. “No, you don’t. And it’s not like that anyway.”
“You mean for you or for him?”
“For either of us. He’s the one who’s helping with the inside of the house.” At least I could come clean about that.
“Keri Ann, I know I’m not your best friend, but you know you can talk to me, right? I wish I could take back that kiss two years ago. I totally made it awkward between us, which I regret. You should know there’s someone else I like, a lot, so if you need to talk to me about anything, you don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings.”
I looked at him, surprised. Liz?
“Don’t ask me who it is Keri Ann, I’m not ready to even talk about it.”
I grinned. “Well, I’m not ready to talk about this guy either.”
“Ok, then, so we agree not to talk. Awesome. We’re so healthy.” He laughed.