"Show him."
"What?" I blink at her.
"Show him what it could be like, without the gang. With you. You see … " Her gaze goes kind of distant. "If you've spent your life fighting, you don't know what peace is. You don't know what kindness is."
"He's kind," I protest.
"Good." She smiles. "Then there's hope for him. Help him, Gigi. Convince him he can live this life, that even if he loses everything, he can still have you. Do it now, before he gets in too deep with the gang, before he gives up his life for the only cause he knows. Show him there's more to life."
"And since when have you become all-knowing?" I say, my voice shaking.
"I've always been all-knowing," she says with a wink. "Chin up, girlfriend, and go get your man."
"Jesus, I don't know," I whisper. "I sort of kidnapped him last night. I'm sure repeated kidnappings are frowned upon by the law."
"He didn't seem upset, though, did he?"
"No." I shake my head. "And he didn't tell me why he was standing out in the rain. I'm worried about him."
"Listen to me, Gigi." She leans across the table. "Listen to your wise friend who will get her own ducks in a row someday. Don't wait for him to call. Not now. You made the last move? So what? Make the next one, too. Why do we have to wait for the men to come after us?" She highfives me. "Power to the women, girl!"
Sighing, reluctantly smiling, I highfive her back. "Yeah."
She makes it sound simple. Too simple.
But she has a point … Why not call him? He has a lot going on in his life right now. I'll just check on him, make sure he's okay.
By the time I gather the courage to call, it's after my last class, and it's getting dark outside. I ring his number as I walk toward the bus stop, and slow down when it goes to voicemail.
Disappointment hits me. I realize then that I'd been holding my breath, waiting for his low, deep voice to come over the phone. Hoping for a hint of a smile when he spoke to me to show his pleasure at my call.
Oh come on, Gigi. He'll call back.
Caught up in thought, I've passed by a vaguely familiar door, and stop. A bar. Wait a minute, isn't that where he works?
Two guys stumble out, and I grab the door before it closes and enter.
Yeah, this is the place. What was the name of the bartender I talked with last time? David, right?
But he doesn't seem to be there. Jarett either, for that matter. A woman approaches me from behind the bar and smiles.
"What can I get you?" she asks.
"I was hoping to talk to Jarett, if he's here," I say, glancing around. "Is he working tonight?"
"Jarett." Something shifts in her expression, and I'm not sure if it's anger, or regret, or both. "He doesn't work here anymore."
"What?" That snaps me back to attention. "Since when?"
"Days ago. A pity. He's a damn good bartender, even if having to peel women off him every night was getting tiresome."
She's pissed with him about that.
She has a crush on him.
Do all the girls he knows have a crush on him? Jesus.
I force my hands to stay relaxed at my sides, even as irrational anger warms me up from the inside. Did he kiss her? Did he hold her?
"Boss fired him because he missed too many shifts with his mom being so sick," she goes on. "I heard he landed a job at a fast-food place not far, if you're looking for him."
She's eyeing me, a calculating gleam in her eyes.
"Where?"
"Across the street, two blocks to your left. Burnt Burgers, or Fun Burgers, or something. I can never remember the name."
"Thanks."
"No worries. Tell him … tell him Suzie says hi. And that I hope he's okay."
"Sure." He never talked about this Suzie gal. "You and him are friends?"
She shrugs, looks uncomfortable. "I'm not sure."
Whatever that means. "Okay, Suzie."
I turn around to go, but she comes around the bar and stops me. "Wait. Tell him I'm sorry. Please?"
"What for?"
"I may have cost him his job. I didn't cover one of his shifts like he asked me to. I was upset with him, and … and the boss got furious when nobody showed up and fired him. My fault. Jarett never said he was interested in me, I just assumed, and … anyway, tell him I'm sorry."
She disappears into a back door of the bar, and I'm still staring after her.
Well, okay. Not sure how to feel about all this. Pity? Fury at her for costing him his job? Or at assuming he wanted her?
Come to think of it, isn't that exactly what I'm assuming right now about myself?
Crap …
I trudge across the street and down two blocks, until I locate Fat Burgers. I guess this must be the place. I press my nose to the glass of the front window, trying to see inside, but no Jarett. Okay.
I could go inside and ask.
Ugh, no way. Enough with this search, I'm getting a weird stalkerish vibe. Let him call me back. Let him be the one to make the next move, and also let Sydney say all she wants.
This is so hard. I never knew that loving someone means to hold back, not to push, to pretend not to worry. To tie your own hands so you can let the other person be free.
If he doesn't call back, if he doesn't care about seeing me, talking to me, then that's his choice.
I never knew loving someone is the same as letting someone go with the hope they will come back.
Hurrying to the bus stop, I blow into my hands to warm them. The days are getting colder. Taking out my phone, I stare at the blank screen. No missed calls. No text messages.
Is that a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, or is it all in my mind? Is my worry over something real, or is it just nerves because I'm scared that last night meant nothing to him-when it meant so much to me?
That I mean nothing to him, when he means everything to me. It scares me so badly.
Last night he didn't say anything about losing his job and getting another. Is this why he seemed so upset? Was it because of his mom? Was it something else?
I want to ask him.
I want him to come to me on his own terms, without me asking again, to tell me what's on his mind.
So stupid of me. I should have known that being in love is to lose one's mind.
My phone rings late in the night, interrupting the music I'm playing, and my heart leaps the moment I see the caller.
He called me back.
With butterflies crashing about in my stomach, I connect the call. "Yeah?"
"Gigi." Oh God, his voice. So deep. Sexy. "You called me. Is everything okay? Are you okay?"
Crap, and it looks like I managed to worry him. "Yes, everything's fine."
"Okay." He breathes out. "Good. Gigi … "
"What?"
He's silent for a few beats. "I can't fucking stop thinking about you."
"Yeah?" I swallow hard, my heart pounding fit to burst out of my chest, and my body clenching.
"I wanted to call you, but I got caught up in something. Did I wake you up?"
"No." I smile up at the ceiling. "I was awake."
"Awesome. I had to see you. Couldn't wait any longer."
I sit up in bed. "Where are you?"
"Outside."
"Outside, where?"
"Your house."
No frigging way. Jumping out of bed, I rush to my window, open it, push open the shutters and look down.
And there he is, in the garden below, his face a pale oval in the light from his phone. He glances up and grins, his teeth glinting white.
For someone who's had sex with this guy several times already, I feel strangely like a girl on her first date, all jitters and excitement churning in my belly, and a sense of wonder.
That he's here. Right here, outside my window. That he wants to see me.
I gesture at him to go to the door, and I rush downstairs to open it for him. He fills the opening with his height and broad shoulders, and I'm struck speechless while he gives me one of his crooked smiles. His eyes crinkle at the corners.
A blast of cold wind hits me, ungluing my tongue from the roof of my mouth. "Come on in."
"You sure?" He looks past me. "Is your mom inside?"
"Mom's on a date." At his confused look, I grab his hand and pull him inside. "She's not here. And even if she were, she'd want you to come in, so there."
"Okay, okay." He laughs as I close the door and turn to face him. It's a dark, delicious sound that tightens things deep in my belly and sends a throb between my legs. "What about your brother?"
"In his room, listening to music."
"You and him, you seem to like doing that an awful lot."
"We do. It's our escape." I tug on his hand, trying to ignore the need to wrap myself around him like an octopus. "Would you like some dinner? We have leftover meatloaf and pasta."
"No. I just wanted to see you."
Aw shucks. I should pinch myself, see if I'm dreaming. With the way my dreams have been going lately-with Jarett in them, lots of Jarett-it wouldn't surprise me.