Page 57 of Jesse's Girl
My eyes briefly dart to Ada, then back to Maya. I smile to cover up how awkward this feels, kicking myself for thinking that bringing a date here would help me put some distance between me and Ada.
Why did I think being in the same room would achieve that, exactly?
Maya props her fist under her chin and leans with her elbows on the table. “Anyway, enough medical stuff. It’s kind of a bummer.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I nod, changing the subject. “So, you’re in real estate with Renee?”
“Yeah, but at a different firm. We used to work in the same office, though. And I still see her for, like, wine nights and stuff.”
I’m trying so hard to appear interested. What am I doing with my face?
“Cool,” I say. A decidedly uncool response.
When we open our menus, I risk a look at the bar again, knowing it’s the wrong move but unable to resist Ada’s pull. The lines have died down, and the guy working with Ada is chatting to her, laughing with that sleazy smile of his again. His pose is relaxed and his attention is glued to her as he wipes down the bar. She tucks her hair behind her ear and my brow furrows.
Is she flirting with him?
I catch myself. It doesn’t matter—she could be fucking the guy for all I know. The thought immediately lands like lead on my chest.
“Oh, my gosh.” Maya’s voice pulls me back to the table. “Everything sounds so good. What are you thinking of ordering?”
“Uh,” I say, my smile awkward. “Not sure yet.” I’ve barely registered what’s on the menu in front of me and, when I try to focus, the words seem to swim together. My immediate and visceral dislike of Ada’s coworker is uncomfortable proof I’m jealous—and the knowledge I have no right to be weighs me down. I study him and that cocky grin again. He looks so… punchable.
Let it go. It’s none of your business.
Unable to concentrate, when the server comes to take our order, I order exactly what I had that first night I came here. I figure it was fine and, this way, I don’t have to explain why I can’t think straight enough to make an actual decision.
I coast through the meal on a steady stream of automatic small talk, something I’ve honed over the years working so many farm gigs with all kinds of people. But I still can’t help my split focus. I’m barely connecting with what Maya’s saying, and I feel like shit about it, even though it’s clear we don’t have much in common.
As we finish eating, Maya excuses herself to go to the restroom. I’m reminded about the first night I saw Ada here, when she crashed into me with those dish trays. Thinking back, it’s clear my attraction to her was virtually instantaneous.
Doesn’t matter. You can’t have her, I remind myself for the umpteenth time. I sip my ice water and will the cold sensation to settle my racing thoughts.
Alone for the time being, I risk a glance at the bar and catch Ada watching me warily. I raise my chin and give her an apologetic shrug.
With a blank expression, she turns back to the customer she’s serving.
I deserved that.
Things have been awkward at home since my haircut, and this stunt of mine clearly hasn’t helped.
Maya reappears in front of me, interrupting my thoughts, and gathers up her cardigan and purse.
“Hey, you ready to head out?” I ask, rushing to stand.
“Yeah,” she says, giving me a resigned look. “Listen, this was nice. But I can tell you’re in your head about something. So I should…” she trails off, motioning toward the door. “I should get going.”
“Really?” I sputter, blindsided by her sudden decision to leave—although I can’t blame her. “You sure?”
She nods.
“Okay,” I say. “Hey, I’m sorry for being…” Now I’m the one trailing off, not sure how to apologize. “It was great to meet you,” I finally say.
She readjusts her purse, then reaches to open it.
I put out my hand. “Oh, no. I got it. Please.”
“It’s really okay…” she says.