Page 8 of One More Chance

“But I insist harder,” I say firmly. Even though he’s already giving his credit card to the lady behind the counter, who’s smiling at him. Because he’s smiling at her. Not in a flirtatious way, but a naturally charming way. I can see why he’s a salesman.

“I’ll pay you back,” I say.

“Don’t even try,” Cora interjects. “This is just Jensen being Jensen.” She pats her baby brother on the shoulder and collects her shopping bags.

I collect mine and am utterly confused as to what just happened. Why exactly did he pay? What does “Jensen being Jensen” mean?

“Well, thank you,” I say. “But I still don’t really like it.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” he says. “And I guess I’ll just have to live with that knowledge.”

We all walk out onto the sidewalk and decide to get lunch at the diner across the street. After throwing our bags in the car, we walk over. Gentry and Lyla hold hands and bite each other’s necks like two idiots in love. Cora texts her stranger mystery date from the airplane and smiles like an idiot. And then Jensen and I bring up the rear, walking next to each other in an awkward silence like a different kind of idiots.

“I like the dresses you guys picked,” Jensen says.

“Oh, thanks. It was quite the ordeal for a while, but we finally managed.” More silence. His proximity alone causes me anxiety. I want to wring my hands but catch myself and force away the familiar habit.

I try to think back to the last time I was around any man who caused this sort of reaction in me. When Charles and I first met, he gave me butterflies. I remember that. It was so long ago, though. No one before or since has been in my life in that way. No one has caused my body any reaction. Stupid Jensen was at least proving I wasn’t dead inside, so I could thank him for that.

We enter the diner and take one of the larger, round booths in the corner. Everyone slides in until we’re all seated. Jensen is to my left on the outside of the booth and Cora is to my right, in the center of the booth. I’m wedged between the Reed siblings and becoming alarmingly aware of how beautiful they are as a set. Cora’s brilliant red hair and freckled pale skin feel radiant next to my dull blonde hair and farmer’s tanned skin. Jensen’s hair isn’t red, though the shade of brown is on the warmer side. Both of them have the silver-gray eyes. Mine are just blue, the most common color ever. So boring.

“I can say the alphabet backwards, you know,” Jensen whispers to me.

His statement startles me from my thoughts, and I realize for the last several minutes I’ve just been staring at the same spot on my menu. “What?”

“The alphabet. I can say it backwards,” he says proudly, still in a whispered tone.

“Um, okay.”

“It’s part of our game, Harper. Remember?”

Oh. Right. The get-to-know-each-other game that makes me want to die. “Oh, I see.”

“Now, it’s your turn,” he urges.

I try hard to think of anything about myself that sounds interesting and nothing comes to mind. “Um, well. I was a cheerleader in high school.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know I sound like an idiot.

“Do you still know the cheers?” he asks.

“Unfortunately. They’re like the songs stuck in your head you desperately wish brain damage would fix.” I laugh.

“Do you still have the uniform?” he asks, his smile doing something weird now.

What the fuck is his face doing? Is he flirting?I swear to the gods, I don’t even know what that looks like. So maybe he is. I wouldn’t know, but his smile looks kind of sinister now, mischievous.

“Um, I think so actually. Somewhere in the back of my closet,” I say.

“I was in marching band,” he says, and this surprises me. Because he doesn’t look like a marching band kid. Maybe a soccer guy. Not football, because he’s leaner than that. He could’ve easily been in track like Lyla.

“What did you play?”

Just then, the waitress interrupts us for our orders and we each take our turns. I notice we order the same drink—sweet tea. I also notice he orders all his condiments on the side. She takes our menus and leaves.

“Saxophone,” he says.

For a split second, I think he just said ‘sex-ophone’ and I have to play it over in my head. “What?” I ask, and Jensen looks at me. “Oh, right.” I start laughing because I feel like I’ve forgotten how to have basic conversations with people.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, halfway laughing himself.