Page 70 of The Lucky One
Emily
Jon and I settled into the worn-out couches in his basement room. After having so much fun improvising onstage, we had agreed to write more together. He scribbled in his notebook like he couldn’t write fast enough to capture his ideas. My page, on the other hand, remained empty. Jon hadn’t tried to pick up our conversation about him coming to Germany with me this summer, and it was making me nervous.
“How was your day with Tim?” I asked, my pen tapping a hesitant beat on the paper.
He looked up. “Good.” He shrugged, a fleeting expression of unease crossing his face. “Watched some baseball while I did some homework.”
“You watched baseball and did homework at the same time?”
Jon closed his book with a quick, deliberate movement, placing it on the cluttered coffee table. “I can multitask.” He smirked, but I didn’t quite buy it.
I lifted the pen to my lips and bit on the end. “Hmm.” I gazed back at the blank expanse of my sheet. I had been eager to write when Jon suggested our joint session, but I couldn’t shake this weird feeling in my stomach that he was hiding something. “Jon, can I ask you something?”
“Fuck, you look so sexy biting that pen,” he said, his eyes fixed on my lips. Heat crept up my cheeks and I quickly pulled the pen away, but his gaze lingered, making my head spin.
“Two more weeks till my appointment,” I said, losing focus.
Jon slumped in his seat, his gaze now wandering up to the low ceiling. “Lord help me... after having done it, now it’s even harder not to.”
I giggled and stole a glance at the bulge in his pants.
“You wanted to ask me something?” He crooked his head at me.
“Um, yeah.” I closed my own book. “You told me you didn’t know who Paul’s attacker was, but he got threatened again yesterday, and I was just wondering...” My hands were gesturing all over the place. “Not that I would suspect you of anything, but Paul and I talked last night and you’re the only connection he has to any gangs—”
“Yeah right, because he’s the perfect guy.”
I glared at him. “I never said that, but we both know he isn’t the one hanging out in gang clubhouses.”
His eyes blazed, a reddish hue coloring his face. “I’m not doing that anymore.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” I bit my lip, regretting my choice of words. “Jon.” I leaned over the coffee table and put my hand on his knee. “I just want to know if you have any idea what this could be about? I’m scared for him.”
“Paul beat the shit out of that guy, right? They’ll leave him alone for now.”
I rolled my eyes. Men and their way of thinking that fistfights could solve everything. “Wait, how do you know that?”
Jon shook his head and reached for his notebook. “Kiki told me.”
“When?”
He scowled. “When I drove her home, fuck... Do you not trust me, Little German?” He threw his book to the ground.
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was freaking out over a simple question. “You can’t do this, Jon.”
“Do what?!” He jumped to his feet, crossing his arms. “Clearly you still see me as the bad guy while Paul is Mr. Perfect!”
I stood up too, more calmly though. “I never accused you of anything. You can’t get all defensive just because I asked you a question!” We’d been doing so well... but I wouldn’t keep quiet, even if that meant a fight.
“It wasn’t just a question, it was an accusation.”
I let out a snort. Jon could be such a smart-ass sometimes. “Okay, fine! It wasn’t just a question. But you can’t blame us for thinking it might be connected with you somehow. You have a past, and as much I like to say the past doesn’t matter, it does impact our present.”
He flinched. Then he reached for his book and placed it carefully on the table. “Fuck, you’re right... I’m sorry. I’m just trying to do everything right, and no matter what, I keep messing up.”
“I trust you, Jon. If you say you have nothing to do with it, then I believe you.” I took his hand in reassurance. I hated seeing him like this.
He looked at me, his eyes reading me like paper, and I waited for him to speak. Instead, he crushed his lips on mine and carried me to the bed, giving me lots of inspiration for our next writing session...