Chat Love (17 page)

“Well, he’s an ass, and I bet he regrets it. If he doesn’t, he should.” He runs his hand through his hair. “What about that other guy?” he asks. “Who’s he?” I cock my head, trying to figure out which guy he’s referring to. He clarifies, “You know, that guy that you were trying to avoid. He has brown hair and looks like a tool?”

“Oh, Alan?” I ask. He shrugs his shoulders and nods. “A while back, I went on a date with Alan and he became obsessive. He wouldn’t stop e-mailing and calling me, and he began to follow me when I’d go out so that he could make a scene. He’s not a nice guy.”

Jackson narrows his eyes. “Was he the same guy who had his hands on you at Utah’s? Did you call the police on him?”

“No, I really don’t think it’s that serious,” I reply.

Sharply, he says, “Lu, you don’t know what he could be capable of.”

I reply, “Maybe not, but he’s stopped, anyway. It’s not really a problem anymore.”

He runs his hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. “Lucia, guys like that are dangerous. You shouldn’t take it so lightly.”

I playfully say, “You’re worried about me.”

He rolls his eyes. “You have my number, so call me if he bothers you again, OK?” I nod my head and we both take sips of our beers. He clears his throat, “So, I hear you’re dating lately. Anyone special?”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “If I was seriously dating someone do you think that I would have kissed you?”

His eyes widen and he looks down, fiddling with his drink. For a few moments, neither of us says anything, and the tension builds until I can barely stand it. Finally, Jackson asks, “How are you meeting these guys? Online?”

I look up at him with a shocked expression, wondering how he figured that out.

Interpreting my shock as offense, he quickly corrects himself. “No, I didn’t mean it like that; you’re too pretty to be online. I mean, I saw the way that guy came over here, you don’t seem to have difficulty attracting guys.”

“You know, people who go online are looking for someone who is serious about being in a relationship because they are sick of the crap they get from people they meet at bars. They want something real, and it’s just easier to find that sort of connection from meeting someone on a site. Plus, it’s cheaper than going to a bar and spending money on drinks.” Realizing that I’ve ranted a bit, I quickly add, “Not that I date online or anything. I just know some people who do; that’s how Skyler met Dave.”

He nods his understanding and drinks his beer. Why did I lie to him? I shouldn’t even care what Jackson Foster thinks. Still, I know that I do.

The night rolls on and we continue to drink. I’ve had enough alcohol to leave me feeling courageous. Our most recent conversation has been about love, and Jackson has revealed that he thinks that love is hyped up by the media.

I shake my head after he gives a little speech about how movies influence people’s feelings for one another.

“Who was she?” I ask, being bold. He raises his eyebrow in question. “The woman that turned your heart cold,” I clarify.

“Why do you think that there was a woman?” he asks. I raise my eyebrow, jokingly imitating the same face he’d just given me. “Fine,” he sighs. “I was engaged to marry someone when I lived in London but it didn’t work out.” Before I can interrogate him further, he changes the subject, “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about what happened Valentine’s Day weekend and tonight?”

I nod my head in agreement, glad that he brought the subject up because even though I was bold a moment earlier, I’m still too chicken to bring it up. He leans back, giving me a grin. “So what do you want to know?”

I ask, “Well, first, why did you kiss me tonight?”

“To make your ex jealous,” he answers simply.

“And after that?”

He winks. “You kissed me, sweetheart.”

“OK, fair enough. What about Valentine’s Day weekend? What was that about?”

“You are very attractive. As much as I sometimes want to cover your mouth with duct tape, I also want to cover it with my lips.” He leans across the table and moves a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Plus, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

Playfully I say, “That’s just because you catch me at my weak moments.”

He pulls away from me and finishes his beer. “I have to be honest with you: I’m actually having a good time. You’re not like the other women I know. But then again, I am pissed drunk, so maybe that’s why you’re more tolerable.” He winks again. Just like that, he’s back to his asshole ways. He looks down at his watch and says, “It’s getting late.” My stomach drops as I assume that he’s about to end the night. Instead, he asks, “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“Sure,” I say. “I’m starving.”

“They have some decent food here, or we can go somewhere else instead. Your choice.”

“Well, I know a great place, if you’re willing to take a cab again,” I suggest.

A little while later, we get out of the taxi in front of Big Daddy’s. I skip to the front door, my mouth watering already. I hear Jackson tell me to wait. I turn around and see him standing by the curb, smoking a cigarette.

“You do know those things kill you, right?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes at me. “Thank you, Mom.”

“And smoking is really unattractive,” I add.

He gives me one of his grins. “I highly doubt that, sweetheart.”

“Hurry up, I’m hungry,” I complain, a grin on my face.

He winks at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll satisfy you soon enough.”

We spend the rest of our time together eating and laughing. We talk about work mostly, discussing the gossip going around the office and laughing about our coworkers’ inter-office flings. With food in my belly, I begin to sober up and lose the nerve to ask him about Lisa. I still have no idea who she is, but I certainly wish I did.

After our late meal, Jackson and I take a cab together, both heading home. The cab drops me off at my place first, and I give him a peck on the cheek and thank him for a wonderful night. Heading toward my apartment, I feel a double-sided sense of excitement and worry. What will happen because of tonight? Will Jackson and I pretend that nothing has changed, or will we try and carry on with our new friendship—or do we only get along when alcohol is involved? As I enter my apartment, I consider what could happen, all while smiling because of what already has.

Today is Friday, my birthday. I’m turning twenty-eight, a fact that I don’t feel warrants celebration. I wake up to Autumn singing to me, and I immediately get a headache. Skyler has covered my desk at work with balloons and flowers, which only makes things worse by alerting everyone to the fact that I am now one year older. Both Patrick and the crew sing “Happy Birthday “to me before the show starts, marking the second time I get to hear that infamous song.

My relationship with Jackson at the office has taken a turn for the better, and instead of wanting to rip each other’s heads off, we instead laugh, joke, and occasionally enjoy lunch together. Everyone at work has noticed the change, and even Skyler swears that at times she can “see sparks fly.” Patrick has commented that Jackson seems to no longer have a stick up his ass, and Caitlin simply sends me dirty looks. I’m curious if one night actually changed things between us in such a significant way, or if they’ll just eventually go back to the way they were.

After work, I decide to go to an art auction and buy myself a birthday gift. I walk in and begin looking at all of the different art pieces, writing down what I want to bid on. My eyes land on a beautiful painting of a cherry blossom tree, and I immediately begin picturing where I could hang it in the apartment. Before the auction even begins I’ve decided that I’m going to get that painting, and I don’t care who I have to outbid in order to do so.

The auction begins and I keep my mouth shut, not bidding on anything. My eye is on that cherry blossom. I’ve saved my money for today, and I am going to go home with that painting, regardless of the price.

Finally, my painting hits the block and I sit up straighter, gripping my paddle with nervous excitement. The bidding starts and I am the first to bid. I feel good about my bid and I am confident that the painting will soon be hanging in my apartment. However, my assurance quickly disintegrates when I see another paddle rise up into the air.
Damn, I have competition.
Still, I’m not going down without a fight.

I lift my paddle and the bidding war begins. The other bidder refuses to stop, and I’m bothered by the fact that I can’t even see them. The only thing I can see is the outline of their paddle every time it rises into the air.

Soon the price of the painting has risen past what I can afford, even with my savings and a little extra money that my parents had given me as a birthday gift. Sadly, I have to forfeit. It takes every ounce of self-control that I have to keep my paddle down and allow the other bidder to win the painting that I had so desperately wanted.

An hour later, I am walking down the street alone, trying to decide where I should go in order to eat a late lunch and drink away my sorrows. I’m upset from having lost the painting I wanted, and I’m also dreading the birthday dinner I’m having with my family later tonight. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice calling my name in a sexy British accent and I turn around to see Jackson running after me. He is out of breath but still manages to look sexy, even when disheveled and winded.

“Blimey, you’re fast,” he says, catching his breath as he slows to a stop in front of me. He runs his hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it but only mussing it up more. Still breathing heavily, he says, “I need your address.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Why?” I ask.

He clears his throat. “I was the other person bidding on that painting that you wanted.”

I can feel my blood beginning to boil as I’m reminded of how much I’d wanted that painting. “How did you know that I wanted that painting? And why were you at the auction, anyway? You don’t even like art that much.” I’m definitely put-off by his having outbid me.

“Yes, I do; I like art. Sometimes I go to auctions and bid on some pieces. I heard from Skyler that you were going to be there today, so I went and saw that you wanted that painting and, well, you know the rest.”

I snap at him, “So you were stalking me, and you took the one thing that I wanted for my birthday? Thanks a lot, Jackson. You can be such a jackass sometimes!”

I turn and begin to stomp away, wanting to hit him hard with my purse. He grabs my arm and makes me turn around to face him.

“You are such a drama queen. I got the painting for you for your birthday.”

I stop struggling and look at him with wide eyes. “You what?” I ask, still not fully comprehending his words.

He repeats, “I bought the painting for you, as a birthday gift.”

“Jackson, I’m flattered,” I begin. “But I can’t accept that from you. It’s way too expensive.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well it’s too late to give it back, so just give me your address so they can deliver the painting to you. It’s not like I want some girly painting of a flowery tree in
my
apartment,” he says jokingly. I open my mouth to argue but he covers it with his hand. “Lucia, it’s a birthday gift. I wanted to get it for you, so just accept it, OK?”

I grab his hand and take it off of my mouth. “Why did you want to get it for me?”

“Because I saw how happy it made you when you saw it and I wanted to get it for you.”

“That’s really kind of you, Jackson, but I still feel bad about how much you spent.”

He moves closer to me, placing his hand gently on my back. “Just say thank you, Lu.”

“Thank you.” I say.

His eyes sparkle and he says, “Happy Birthday, Lucia.” He moves his hand from my back and looks around the street. “What are you doing right now?”

“I was going to get a quick bite to eat and drink a few glasses of wine. I have dinner with my family tonight so I’m going to need to drink ahead of time.” He looks disappointed. I quickly blurt out, “If you want to join me, you are more than welcome to.”

He smiles again and replies, “I would like that a lot.”

We find a nearby cozy café for lunch and immediately order a bottle of wine. After making small talk about work and where we should eat our lunches next week, we place our orders.

After the waitress leaves Jackson asks, “So are you dating a lot?” Taken back by his question I simply nod my head and take a sip of my wine. He continues, “You never did tell me how you meet all of these guys.”

“Through friends and family, mostly,” I lie.

“But it’s not working out?”

I take a piece of bread from the basket and rip it apart. “Not yet, no.I don’t want to settle.”

He takes a piece of bread himself and spreads butter on it. “What is it you are looking for?”

I lock eyes with him and say, “Passion.”

A child laughs loudly and interrupts our moment. I watch him playing with his father, as the man gently throws the boy in the air and catches him, both laughing loudly.

“Do you want children?” Jackson asks, noticing my gaze.

I turn to face him again and see him sitting with his head cocked to the side, waiting for my answer.

“I would love to have children,” I reply. “My younger sister is pregnant with her first child, so my parents are pressuring me to get knocked up. They would prefer that I find a husband first, though.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So is that why you are on a dating marathon? Because of your parents?”

“No,” I say. “I mean, it would be nice for them to leave me alone for five minutes, because it seems like that’s all they ever want to talk about, but that’s not why I’m looking.”

“Trust me, I know how family can be annoying. My sister just told me that she’s planning to move to Manhattan from London, so I’ve recently been looking at apartments for her.”

Surprised that Jackson is talking about something so personal, I ask him, “Is all of your family in London?” In all of the times that we’ve talked, he’s hardly ever mentioned his family or his life in London. Instead, we always talk about the news, entertainment, and work, plus the occasional dose of gossip.