Never Again(19)

“Why, you don’t like it here anymore?” she asks, her mouth full, just taking a bite of the sandwich she made for herself. It’s been one week since we’ve returned from Valencia, and during this time I went apartment hunting. None has attracted my interest more as the one I told Sophie about. “We don’t want you to leave. You know you’re always welcome in our home. You can stay as long as you wish.”

“I know, but you and Matt also need your privacy.” Besides, the walls in their apartment are thin. I’m getting tired of hearing everything they are doing in the bedroom. Two years was too long of a period. It’s time for me to start living on my own. “Do you want to go see the apartment with me? It’s still on the market, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Of course I want to come. Tell me when and we’ll go. I hope it’s not too far away from our apartment because I’d still like to come visit you.”

“Actually, it’s only a 15 minute drive away from here, so you can come for coffee anytime. Besides, it’s very close to Ace, so I can walk to work,” I assure her.

“I see you’ve worked everything out.” A tinge of disappointment runs through her eyes, but I know she supports my decision.

“Thank you,” I wrap my arms around her and then walk to the fridge. I pack some yogurt and a bagel in a bag to snack on at work. I take my car keys off the shelf in the hall and head to the front door. “I’m going to work. See you this afternoon,” I wave at Sophie right before I leave to Ace. It’s Saturday. Matt and Sophie don’t work during the weekend, and I usually take weekend shifts so they can have some more time to themselves. When the traffic light changes to red, I fix my make up in my mirror, and then when it turns green, I turn right toward the salon. My cellphone in my purse beeps, announcing a text message. When I park in my usual spot, I fish the phone out of my bag and check who the text is from.



Unknown number: Babe, you thinkin’ about me?



I look at the phone, surprised, and write back.



Me: Who is this?

Unknown number: Jake.



Holding my breath, I stare at his text. Jake.



Me: Where the hell did you get my number?

Unknown number: You don’t know how easily I can get something when I truly want it. And I want to see YOU again.



Mouth wide open, I shake my head, studying his text.



Me: Why?

Unknown number: Because.

Me: That’s not an answer.

Unknown number: Have coffee with me.



I blink three times to check if I saw it correctly. Jake Burns wants to have coffee with me. How the hell did he manage to get my number? I didn’t think I left any lasting impressions, so what the hell does he want from me?



Me: Are you sure you have the right number? What do you want?

Unknown number: You :)



His reply makes my heart beat faster, and my palms start to sweat.



Me: Are you that direct with all the girls?

Unknown number: Only with the ones I really like.



The reply makes me blush. I nervously smooth my hair. He likes me? I’m surprised he even remembers me. After all, he is a famous racer. A smile creeps on my face, and I shake my head incredulously. How come I caught his attention when he can get every girl he wants? I’m not ready for a one night stand, which I’m sure Jake is after. He has so many beautiful, sexy women to choose from. Women literally throw themselves at his feet, and he wants to go out with me. I’m not saying I’m ugly, far from it. I know some guys are interested in me, but I’m not ready to date yet. Shaking my head again, I enter the salon. I change into my uniform and prepare everything, so I can start working. I don’t bother to reply; he’ll forget about me soon enough. He probably mistook me for one of his girlfriends.

My first client is a regular—a student basketball player, very tall. Lately, he has been requesting exclusively me, and I don’t mind. If clients want me, I get paid better. After him, I massage a gymnast, a swimmer, and my last client of the day is Brett, a tennis player. It’s his first time, and I hope he’ll be satisfied with my work. I pour some oil into my palms, spread it around, and then put my hands on his muscled back. Slowly, I slide my hands all over his back to spread the oil evenly. I pay extra attention to the muscles between his shoulder blades because I notice he’s very tense. Then, I massage his arms. In the end, I focus on his legs. He’s tense all over, so I use the kneading technique on his rock-hard calves and thighs. I don’t give up until I can feel his muscles relaxing—I’m a great masseuse and I’m going to make him feel better. When I’m finally finished, Brett raises his head off the table, grinning.