Page 63 of One More Chance
Harper
Twenty-four hoursafter he asked me on the dance floor to go home with him to North Carolina, we arrive in Raleigh. I peer out the window of the airplane, watching the bright city lights blur as we land. I’ve never seen such a sight. And for all my fear of flying for the first time, Jensen made it a breeze. Maybe it’s because he flew us first class and kept me liquored up. Or because he talked to me the entire time, forcing my mind elsewhere. But I barely noticed when we took off or landed.
In the back of the Uber, he points out buildings in the city, places I can visit during the day if I want. Apparently there are some nice parks and museums here. I’m just in shock at the size of the city, and apparently Raleigh isn’t even that big when compared to larger ones. It makes me wonder about Boston, where my sister ran away to all those years ago. If it’s anything like here or bigger, I’m certainly starting to understand the appeal.
“We’re here,” he says, stopping in front of the door on the right side of the hall.
When the Uber had dropped us off in front of this building, my jaw dropped. It’s gorgeous. Jensen’s “small downtown loft” is bigger than he lets on. Big bright windows overlook the city, bright white countertops line the kitchen, and a brick fireplace is nestled in the open living room. Stairs lead up to what I assume is the bedroom. Though, for whatever reason, thinking about it makes me super nervous.
We’ve slept together several times for Christ’s sake. Why does the thought of his bedroom make me nervous now? Maybe because it’s his bedroom. Maybe because being in it will feel so much more intimate. Maybe because I want to open his underwear drawer and medicine cabinet and fridge and just expose all the things right now.
Jensen sets our bags down and walks into the living room, grabbing a small remote and clicking a couple of buttons. The fireplace roars to life and then he lowers it. Wow, fancy.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asks.
“Both, actually.”
“I probably don’t have much to eat, but I can order whatever you want. I have some drinks and water,” he says, rounding back toward the fridge.
“Water is fine,” I say, leaning against the counter.
His long arms stretch up into the cabinet next to the fridge to retrieve a glass, the muscles in his sides flexing as I let out an audible sigh. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing. You just look really good getting water.”
“Well, if that’s how you feel, I will fetch you water anytime you like,” he teases.
“Can I really have anything to eat? Because I can’t do that at the farm, obviously.”
Jensen finishes filling my glass of water and brings it to me, then opens the drawer next to me, revealing an entire collection of takeout menus. “I’m not home a lot. And the thought of trying to get groceries and watch them go bad before I can use them doesn’t sit well with me.”
I rifle through the menus, and there seems to be a little of everything. “And all of these will deliver here? Now?”
He checks his watch and nods. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Amazing.Most everything back home closes by nine and nothing is close enough to deliver to the farm. “Okay. I’ll have this, please.” I raise up a menu for a fancy sounding steakhouse.
Jensen cracks a smile, flipping the menu open. “That’s my girl.”
The sentiment he uses does something to me. His girl. His. Girl. Excuse me while I retrieve my lady parts that have fallen out all over the floor.
“Let me guess,” he says. “Steak and shrimp? Loaded potato? Tell me you want your steak a medium rare, please?” His eyes are pleading.
“Yes to all those things.”
He clutches the menu to his chest and presses his eyes shut. “You just get better and better.”
“Are you still drunk from the airplane booze?” I joke.
“Maybe,” he says. “Maybe not.” He makes a face and I can’t help but laugh harder.
“Again, ridiculous.”
“How about you go upstairs, put on comfy clothes and freshen up or whatever you need to do, while I order? I know after I travel, I can’t wait to get out of my travel clothes,” he says.
“That sounds like a great idea,” I say. “Do I have time to shower?”
Jensen nods, explaining to me where the towels and things are upstairs as he takes out his phone to order.