Six of Hearts(96)

His jaw moves as he chews on a bite of apple, and I look away quickly. There’s something about the hard lines of his jaw working that I find extremely difficult to resist.

A long, tension-filled minute passes. “What ya doing?”

“Working on a new design,” I answer, voice tight. When my eyes meet his for a second, his lips start to curve at the ends. I want to slap him for finding me amusing.

“Cool. You want to model it for me when it’s done?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, okay, then.” The loud crunch of him biting into the apple fills the room.

I put down my pencil and sigh. “Could you go eat that somewhere else? I swear, you must be the noisiest apple eater in the history of time.”

One shoulder goes up in a shrug. “I like it here. And I love eating apples.”

The way his voice lowers on the second sentence gives off the hint of an innuendo. It riles me up enough to respond harshly, “I’m sure you do, Jason. I’m sure you love eating all different sorts of apples.”

Jesus Christ, did I just say that? Kill me now.

“Actually, I’m loyal to just the one apple,” he counters.

The way his eyes dance and shine makes me want to laugh. I hate how he does this to me. Our conversation right now is verging on the ridiculous. Still, I don’t let it drop.

“You can’t be loyal to only one apple. Once it’s eaten it’s gone, and you need to go find a new one.”

“Oh, I could eat my apple over and over again without ever feeling the need to find a new one.”

“Maybe your apple doesn’t want to be eaten. Maybe your apple is tired of your apple-eating ways.”

He leans forward, one elbow resting on the table, his gaze growing even darker. “On the contrary, my apple loves to be eaten. In fact, my apple is a little cranky right now because she hasn’t been eaten in a while.”

The bloody cheek of him! I want to reach across the table and give him a good, hard slap. Instead, I calm myself and school my expression into a neutral mask. I remember his words from that night at the outdoor cinema.

Please don’t push for more, even if it feels like I want you so badly it hurts, even if I’m the one doing the pushing.

Is this what he’s doing now, pushing?

“I didn’t realise apples had genders and emotions.”

“Yeah, well, you learn something new every day.”

I don’t say anything more. Instead, I pick up my pencil and return my attention to the paper in front of me. Even though I’m not looking, I can practically feel the amused grin on Jay’s face being levelled directly at me.

I sketch an outline of the dress. All the while I can feel his gaze on me like a hot touch. Jay continues eating his apple, and it irritates the hell out of me to know he thinks he won our little veiled argument.

A period of time passes before Jay starts to speak again. “I’m moving into my new place tomorrow.”

His words surprise me. Somehow I’d managed to forget he was moving out. I’d been more focused on the incident with the man in the park and the fact that he’d withdrawn from me. A sudden and excruciating pain hits me right in the chest. I put my hand there, trying to rub it away.

“Oh, right. Where are you moving?” I don’t look at him, because if I do, my strength might crumple.

“Grand Canal Dock.”

“Ooooh, very fancy!” I declare, trying to cover up my pain with a joke. “Are you going to get yourself a job at Google, too? That way you’ll be a stone’s throw from the office. You can enjoy all the perks of being a minion of the evil empire with excellent dining opportunities right on your doorstep.”

He laughs. “You know what, that sounds an awful lot like the spiel the estate agent gave me.”

I shoot him a wary smile. “I can imagine. So, are you having a housewarming?”

“It’s a penthouse apartment, and yes, I’m having a barbecue on the terrace on Sunday. You and your dad are invited. I think Jessie’s bringing Michelle.”

In the back of my mind, I find it odd that he’s going from one room to an entire penthouse all to himself. I mean, why not just get the penthouse in the first place if he could afford it? Perhaps he’s come into some money recently. I glance at my nails. “Well, I’ll have to check my very busy social calendar and get back to you on that one.”

I expect him to find what I’ve said funny, because we both know I spend most of my spare time in the solitary occupation of dressmaking. Although it hasn’t been so solitary since Jay came into my life. Instead, he narrows his eyes and studies me seriously.

“You got a hot date or something? Has Owen called?” The way he says the name is like he’s trying to swallow glass, and admittedly I take a small piece of satisfaction from that.