As I glance around, I see the restaurant is empty.
Surprising, but lucky as I’m pretty sure Jake would have got hassled non-stop for autographs in here. Hopefully, it will stay quiet while we’re here.
The waiter shows us over to a booth table. I slide into my seat, Jake sits opposite me.
His legs are long under the table. I bump his leg with my foot.
“Sorry.”
He smiles at me.
It squirms its way through me. I feel like I’m a teenager all over again.
“Can I get you some drinks?” the waiter asks handing us our menus.
Jake looks at me.
“Beer,” I say.
“Two buds,” Jake orders.
The waiter disappears to get our drinks while I stare at Jake, surprised.
“What?” he asks, seeing my staring.
“Um … nothing.” My face flames.
“No, go on,” he urges, leaning forward, he rests his arms on the table.
“Well, I just thought you didn’t drink anymore – you know – rehab.” I say the word quietly, like it’s a really inappropriate word to be saying.
He lets out a laugh. “Drinking was never the problem, Tru.”
“Oh.”
He leans back in his seat. “That’s the press for you. But still, everything in moderation for me nowadays. Except drugs – they’re completely off the menu of course, but my cigarettes have increased.”
“When did you start smoking?” I ask, wondering if it was after he got clean as a replacement for the drugs, as he never was interested in smoking when we were teenagers.
He scrunches up his face in thought. “When I started in the band.”
A while then.
“Bad habit.”
“It is,” he agrees. “But not as bad as being an addict.”
I instantly tense.
He smiles. “Relax, Tru. It’s not the worst thing in the world I’ve ever said, and my drug counsellor says I’m supposed to be open about these things.”
Okay…
“Was it horrible?”
“What? Rehab.”
“No – but I can’t imagine that was a great place to be. I meant being an addict.”
How can he be so together and so successful, but have been a drug addict? It doesn’t feel like the two should go together. But somehow in him, they did. I guess everyone has a weakness.
He starts to drum his fingers on the table. “When it was good it was great, and when it was bad – it was really fuckin’ bad. I reached the point when all the highs – which were basically every day for me, were all bad. And that was when it was time to get clean.”
“I’m glad you’re clean,” I say.
“Me too,” he smiles.
The waiter comes over with our beers.
“Are you both ready to order, or do you need more time?”
“Oh, sorry, I haven’t even looked at my menu, yet,” I say opening it up.
“Give us another five minutes, man.”
“So what were you thinking?” I ask looking down at the menu.
“Pizza.”
I glance up at his smiling face.
“Ha, ha, funny. They do serve pasta and salad here as well you know.” I pull my tongue out at him.
“I remember.”
I get the impression he remembers so much more than I could have hoped.
“Do you want to share?” I ask.
“Are you still greedy?”
“I was never greedy!” I say feigning outrage.
“You ate like a guy,” he laughs.
“Are you saying I was fat, Jake Wethers?” I quirk my eyebrow at him.
“No. You were always a skinny little thing, I could never actually figure out where it all went.”
“My ass. It still does.”
“From what I remember of your ass it was always nice, I’ll have to check it out later – I’ll let you know what I think.”
“So you didn’t already check it out coming down the stairs?”
I can’t believe I just said that!
It’s him, he seems to bring out a new found flirty, naughty side of me.
He grins at me, it’s a sexy smile. My cheeks heat and so do other parts of my anatomy.
“So are we sharing or not?” I ask, looking back down at my menu.
“We’re sharing.”
Why do I always feel like there’s an undertone to everything he’s saying to me?
But he is a renowned womaniser, so flirting is probably just part of his genetic make-up nowadays.
“Okay, so we have the exotic choice of – Posh Pizzas, The Hut Classics or Make Our Own,” I say as I pour my eyes over the menu.
“I was thinking we could have our old favourite ...”
“Oh my god,” I look up at him laughing. “The Blazin’…
“Inferno,” he finishes.
“I haven’t had that pizza in years!” I’m still laughing.
“Me either,” he laughs. “So that’s what we’re having?”
“Definitely,” I beam.
I close my menu and that’s when I realise he’d never actually opened his.
He remembered the pizza without even seeing it on the menu.
I take a swig of my beer.
Jake signals the waiter over, who has been loitering by the doorway for the last few minutes, and he orders our pizza.
Jake picks his beer up and has a drink.