Lying on my bed while I browse my closet for something to wear, Kimber says, “Ugh, forget about her. So tell me, is this guy hot, or is he a loafer-wearing, country club douche?”
Sliding on my favorite white pants and grabbing a sleeveless navy blouse, I shoot Kimber a smirk. “Hot, no loafers, clean cut, and a total mama’s boy. So yeah, a bit of a douche.”
“Seriously? Why did you agree to go out with him?” She rolls off of my bed and starts rummaging through my shoes. Kimber is like my sister. I met her my freshman year when we were randomly paired together to share a dorm room. She’s very outgoing and has a flair for dramatics. Although her sense of humor can be a bit brash, her heart is sincere. After our freshman year, we ditched the dorms and moved into this house, which her parents own. The past three years have really bonded us, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
“Because my mother was standing right there, and I just didn’t want to deal with any more of her nagging. So, he asked, I said yes. We are just going out for a drink, that’s all. No biggie.”
“Here, wear these shoes.”
“Thanks,” I say as I slip on my gold Tory Burch sandals. I run a brush through my long, thick brown hair and give myself one last look in the mirror.
Smearing on some lip-gloss, I make my way toward the kitchen. When I grab my cell off the bar to check my texts, I see I have one missed call from Jase. I met Jason around the same time I met Kimber. I immediately connected with him and can tell him anything. I love Kimber, but for some reason, I’m able to let all my walls down with Jase.
There’s a knock on the door, and I yell for Kimber to answer it. Quickly, I type out a text for Jase.
Heading out for a few hours. Come by later. Dying to see you.
Tossing my phone in my purse, I walk into the living room to meet Jack.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Hi, Candace. You look great,” he says, and I hear Kimber let out a tiny snort. I shoot her a look over my shoulder and mouth ‘be nice!’
I hop into Jack’s car and we head to Prescriptions, a trendy upscale bar in downtown Seattle. Jack parks and then swiftly makes his way to my door to open it for me. Taking my hand, he helps me out of his small Audi.
When we walk inside, the bar is dimly lit and scattered with sleek leather couches and leather-upholstered coffee tables. The main bar runs along one of the walls and is made of a rich chocolate wood. Spanning the length of the wall behind the bar of lit-up bottles is a solid black chalkboard with the word ‘Prescriptions’ written across it with all the drinks listed below in a unique, artistic script. As we settle onto one of the couches, a waitress comes by; Jack orders a beer, and I order a glass of red wine.
Lifting his knee, he angles himself toward me on the sofa and asks, “So, how come I’ve never seen you at the country club before? I see your parents often, but never you.”
“Not my scene, I guess. My mother serves on a few committees, so she practically lives there.”
Jack narrows his dark blue eyes at me, and the edge of his mouth lifts into a slight grin. “You don’t get along with your mother, do you?”
“It’s complicated,” I sigh. “We have very different views on life. She’s really into appearances. Looking the part. Playing the role. I just don’t see the point.”
The waitress arrives with our drinks, and I take a generous sip of my wine. I can’t help but notice how sexy he looks as he tilts his head back to take a drink from his bottle of beer. Maybe I was wrong; maybe he’s not a douche. I let out a small giggle at my thought.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how maybe I had gotten the wrong impression of you the other day.” I take another sip of my drink. “So, Jack, tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Hobbies? Major? What do you plan on doing after you graduate?”
“Well, I play on the lacrosse team, and I’m studying Political Science.” He takes another swig of his beer and clarifies, “I’m pre-law. So after this year I plan on going to Stanford for law school. What about you?”
“I’m a Fine Arts major. Ballet. Another thing my mother doesn’t approve of.”
“So, what are your plans after this year?”
“Auditions, I guess. I mean, I’d like to dance professionally for as long as I can. Eventually I want to teach.”
We fall into easy conversation as we continue to talk and get to know each other better. He seems genuinely interested in what I have to say. Jack isn’t the typical guy I go for; he’s a frat boy and comes from an upbringing such as myself, but he’s really nice and for the most part, seems down to earth.