Next to Me (6 page)

“Well played, Landon, well played,” I say, mirroring his smirk. “It’s apartment 420.”

“Wonderful. Now, I imagine you have some sleeping to do, so I’m going to tear myself away from the best coffee and croissant date I’ve ever had and let you go.” We both stand and I move to the other side of the table, toward the entrance to the building.

“Thank you, Landon…for the coffee. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” I reach out my hand to shake his and he looks at me like I’m being silly. Eventually he takes my hand in both of his and grins.

“Thank
you
, Jenna.” He holds my hand with his for a few long seconds, gazing into my eyes, before he lets it fall.

I walk to the entrance to the building and open the door. “Oh, wait, um…I feel like I should give you my number, just in case.”

“I already have it,” he says with that smirk.

Of course he does.

Chapter 4

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I lay another outfit on my bed in a pathetic attempt to find something to wear on my date with Landon. I decide against a skirt since my idea of a good time does not include having my skirt fly up and flashing him. “I barely know this guy and I’m totally freaking out about what I’m going wear!”

“What about this?” Spring hands me a top from my closet that still has the tags on it. “This would be great with your white jeans.”

“You are a life saver! I totally forgot I had this!” I pull on the blue striped top over the white cami I already have on and then paint myself into my white jeans. “Have they always been this tight?”

“Oh please! You look great. He’s going to flip,” Spring says reassuringly. I determined early on that Spring’s hippy parents knew what they were doing when they named her. She really is the most chipper person I know. She’s a little shorter than me with an athletic build from her competitive swimming days and just the cutest girl ever.

There’s a knock at the door and I freeze. “Shit! He’s here!”

“Calm down, crazy! It’s just a guy. I’ll go let him in,” Spring says. I hear muffled greetings and Spring is back in my room within two minutes. “Ok. You’re screwed. That is not
just
a guy.”

“Not helping!” I grimace.

“Just don’t catalog this one’s faults too quickly. I wouldn’t mind seeing him stick around a little longer than the others.” Spring nudges me, raising her eyebrows like a caricature.

“Yeah, I’m sure your boyfriend will love that,” I say as I nudge her back. “Ok. Deep breaths. I’m good. I can do this.” I repeat this four or five more times before opening the door and walking out into the living room.

Landon is standing in my living room with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. I thought his whole fitted shirt thing was hot, but the black vest and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up tops that by a million percent. He hasn’t shaved and is still wearing the same sexy, scruffy beard he wore the morning I first saw him at the studio.

“Wow. You look incredible,” he says. “These are for you.” He hands me the flowers and I’m immediately impressed. The bouquet is filled with tulips and irises, my favorite flowers.

“Thank you. That was so sweet of you,” I tell him, feeling the petals of the flowers. I’ve never had a guy bring me flowers. Even Brian Parker who took me to my senior prom didn’t get me a corsage or anything.

“I’ll take those and put them in some water for you,” Spring says.

“Oh…I’m sorry. Landon, this is my roommate, Spring. Spring, this is Landon,” I say a bit flustered.

“Yeah, we met at the door when I opened it for him, Jenna.” Spring gives me a sideways look and the two shake hands anyway before Spring says her goodbyes and goes into the kitchen.

“I guess we should be going?” Time for me to regroup from my frazzled state.

“Yes. I made a reservation. I hope you like insanely good Mexican food,” Landon tells me as I open the door.

“It’s my favorite, so that’s perfect.” I smile and let Landon open doors for me as we make our way outside.

“I thought we’d take a cab there, and then maybe you’d let me take you for a walk after.” He smiles at me and I’m distracted for a moment. He crooks his head as if to ask me again and I’m brought back to the moment.

“Can we walk now?” I smile hopefully at him.

“Yeah,” he smiles, pleasantly surprised at my suggestion.

We’re quiet for about a block before I have to break the silence. It’s hard to concentrate on anything with Landon’s scent lingering in the air and him walking so close to me. I’m trying not to be alarmingly distracted by him, but it’s difficult.

“Carina said it was your first time at the studio, but it clearly wasn’t your first time doing the Salsa. How long have you been dancing?” I ask.

“You picked up on that, did you?” There’s that smirk.
Must…look…away.
“My mom was a dance teacher. She used to take me to her studio with her when I was little. I watched in between coloring. Then when I got older, she made me learn all the dances she taught. Everything from Salsa, to Swing, and even some ballroom dancing.” A soft expression covers his face as he recalls those days with his mom and my heart swells a little.

“So how long has it been since you danced or took a lesson?”

“I haven’t really danced in about seven or eight years. I moved to Chicago about a month ago and thought I’d give it a shot. I was actually pretty surprised at what I remembered,” he tells me as we continue to walk.

“Well, you were pretty great for a guy who hasn’t danced in that long,” I say.

“I knew you were watching me,” he teases.

“I was only watching you because you looked like you were so nervous you were going to pee your pants. I didn’t know if you were going to fall on your face and,
as a nurse
, I would have been obligated to help bandage you up!” I say in my defense. It’s only partially the truth, though.

“I was only nervous when you looked over at me,” he says quietly. “I told you I was immediately drawn to you, Jenna.”

I smile shyly at him and watch the curb as we cross the street. I try to think of something clever to say, but Landon puts his hand on the small of my back as we cross the street. Now I’m too consumed with the warmth of his touch.

“How long have you been dancing?” he asks.

“I used to dance when I was little, then I took a break after my mom died,” I tell him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can I ask how old you were when she passed?” He’s walking and looking at me with concern at the same time. It’s nice.

“I was ten. She had breast cancer and it was pretty aggressive. It took a

while after I she died for me to be ready to get back into dancing. When I did, I danced all the way through high school and after.”

“What about your dad?” he continues.

“He died a while ago. Can we not talk about my depressing past, please?” I beg. This is about the time I stop giving information about my past. It’s generic enough. I mean, lots of people lose their parents. Lots of little girls take dance.

“Sorry. I just…I just want to know you, Jenna,” he tells me with a bit of an apologetic tone.

“It’s ok. I want to be known.”
Did I just say that? And mean it?

We continue to walk and talk about various things. He tells me he grew up in Miami, which explains his mom’s love of Latin dance, but that he went to college in Michigan. He has an older sister who still lives in Miami with her husband and kids, whom he adores. His grandparents played a pretty heavy roll in his life. With his mom being Latina, it’s very much a part of their culture. They both passed away several years ago. His grandfather had a heart attack while scuba diving, which I think it pretty remarkable for a 70-year old man. Landon’s face shows his sadness when he tells me that his grandmother died just a few years later. His grandparents were so close he believes she died from a broken heart.

“Can that happen?” he asks, stopping me to ask again. “Can someone die from a broken heart?” He’s being so transparent with me, so real. I’ve seen people watch their loved one die right in front of them and they’ve not been this real about their emotions.

“Actually, yes. Well, it’s not a medical diagnosis, so a lot of doctors and nurses don’t believe in it. But…I do. When the love someone had that was keeping them going is no longer there, it’s hard for some people to want to exist in a world that doesn’t include that other person. They just give up their will to live. They become weaker, and sometimes get sick. Without the

will to live, the sickness takes over and they die. If you trace it back, past all

the medical stuff, they really did die of a broken heart.”

Landon stares at me, his brown eyes diving into my ocean blue ones. He takes a step closer to me and moves a piece of my hair out of my face before he runs his hand down my arm. My heart is racing. Now I
know
I’ve never felt this.

“I think we passed the restaurant,” he says softly, holding his gaze for only a moment longer.

“I think we did, too,” catching my breath and looking around. “Oh, my gosh, we walked all the way to Navy Pier!”

“It’s a good 12 blocks from the restaurant, and your place was nine blocks! Your feet must be killing you in those shoes,” he says, noticing the heels I’m wearing.

“Oh,  please! I walk 21 blocks in these shoes all the time!” I tease.

“I have an idea. What do you say we skip the restaurant, grab a burger and park it on a bench on the pier?” His eyes are hopeful and I can’t think of a better way to improvise our date.

“I say that sounds great.” I smile and hope I’m not being too agreeable. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date where I think I care if there’s a second date. I don’t remember the rules of playing hard to get.

“Awesome!” Landon grabs my hand and leads me down the pier. He’s threaded his fingers through mine, which in my mind has always seemed like a much more intimate grasp. We stop at a burger place with outdoor seating, but Landon places our order to go. I don’t hear him order because it’s pretty loud, but figure he just ordered a couple of regular burgers and fries.

We walk the length of the pier to the last bench facing the water. It’s a gorgeous night. The pier is lit up by all the restaurants and attractions. There’s a special light hovering over the pier from the Ferris wheel, while the dinner cruise ship on the lake is adding a romantic glow to the water.

“Well, this is some first date, Landon Scott,” I tell him while I unwrap

my burger.

“You said
first
,” he says flirtatiously.

“I…uh…” I let out a defeated breath, not knowing how to recover from that.

“It’s ok, Jenna. I’ve already been thinking of where to take you on our second date.” He’s smiling this ridiculously sexy smile and I realize I want to kiss him. I mean, really kiss him. But…I contain myself and take a sip of my soda.

“This is Dr. Pepper,” I say in shock.

“Yeah…is that not ok?” Landon looks worried.

“It’s my favorite,” I tell him with a grin. I take the bun off the top of my burger to pick off the onions, but there aren’t any. In fact, it’s made just the way I like it. No onions, extra pickles, one super fresh tomato slice, ketchup, mayo, and extra mustard. “How did you…”

“This is the part where I ask if you would find it sweet and charming, or creepy,” Landon says tentatively.

“Just be honest with me, Landon. You’ve hit the nail on the head with my favorite things, down to how I like my burger. What’s the deal?” How could he possibly know how I like my burger, or that Dr. Pepper and Mexican food are my favorites?

“I…dug a little deeper than the resume Carina gave me. I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of creepy stalker. I just really wanted to make sure that if you let me take you out, that it would be perfect for you.” He looks nervous now, maybe a little afraid that he’s blown it.

“Who did you talk to?” I ask. I haven’t decided if this will be a list of

people to thank or punch.

“The cook at Duke’s knows how you like your burger. And, uh…I talked to the guy at your grocery store. He’s how I knew you were a Dr. Pepper girl,” he tells me.

“What about the Mexican food?”

“According to your grocer, you make
a lot
of guacamole.” Landon looks at me with hopeful eyes, wanting to hear me tell him again that his efforts to meet me and get to know me are sweet and charming. They are…mostly.

“Ok. Let’s just…now that you’ve met me, you ask me anything you want to know. No more snooping around. Do what normal guys do and unknowingly make a reservation at a restaurant I hate…and don’t have a plan B. Can you do that?” I tell him, satisfied with his answer.

I’m not concerned about Dellinger. If Landon was working for him, a list of my favorite things would be the last thing he’d need to confirm who I really am. That, and Dellinger wouldn’t use such benign tactics. No, Landon is just a guy smitten with a girl. It’s kind of nice to have a guy be this interested in me. I wonder if any of the guys I gave a date to would have become this interested had I given them the opportunity. I really like Landon and, oddly enough, I do think it’s sweet that he tried so hard to meet me and make sure this night was perfect.

“I can do that. No more snooping. Scout’s honor.” He lifts his hand and gives the Boy Scout sign. We both chuckle nervously, and I make a conscious decision to move forward.

“So…you know what I do…why don’t you tell me what you do, Landon?” I ask. I pick through my fries finding any that are overdone and super crunchy. Those are my favorite.