Page 53 of A Dark Fall
“Okay, and I promise I’m not trying to interrogate you or anything, but how about tonight, as it’s our first date, you give me three questions? I’m allowed to ask you about yourself. You can’t refuse to answer any of them, but it’s completely up to you how much you want to tell me.” I turn my head slightly as if to say, “Are you game?”
His eyes narrow, and he runs his forefinger lightly across his bottom lip as he mulls it over, staring at me in that piercing way he does, as if he’s performing the act of visual dissection. Finally, he sighs.
“Deal,” he says, though he certainly looks tense at the notion.
Just then, Leo appears from my right to clear away the plates, asking us confidently how our food was. I tell him it was wonderful while Jake looks at him with a nod. He returns his eyes to me immediately when we’re alone again.
As I debate with myself over my three questions, I try to think about what I need to know versus what I want to know. Because they’re different. I begin to understand what Aladdin felt like trying to work out the most clever use of his three wishes.
“Okay,” I begin. “Why aren’t you a big sharer? Is it really because you think you’re uninteresting, or is it a trust thing?” And there goes my wasted question. He’ll never answer that—not properly anyway.
Jake smirks then affects a playful frown. “That sounded like three or four separate questions rolled into one. Trying to outsmart me, Doctor?”
Yes, so I like the way he says “doctor.” I like the way it rolls off his tongue almost sensually. I don’t know how he can make such an ordinary word sound like that, but then “toilet paper” would probably sound hot coming from his mouth. Fromthatmouth.
“You could say it was one question with a multiple-choice answer section.” I give him a sweet smile.
He takes a moment to consider his answer. “Well, if I told you neither of the above, you’d think I was cheating you out of a question, so let’s say it’s more of the second and less of the first. Mainly, it’s because I hate sharing my shit. I share when I have to or when I trust someone.” He shrugs. “Think of me like Fred. Wary until I know I’m in safe hands.”
I want to tell him I amsafe hands. I’m a bloody doctor, for Christ’s sake—how much safer does it get? But on the other hand, I think what he’s saying is extremely sensible. Prudent. It still doesn’t tell me anything about him though.
“I also don’t date, so this getting-to-know-you stuff is a bit weird for me, I guess,” he adds, running a hand over the back of his neck.
“Why don’t you date?” I say, too eager.
He grins. “That your next question then?”
Damn him. I let out a breath and narrow my eyes as I take another sip of my dwindling wine. I feel as though I’m playing chess with him, which would be terrible because I’m terrible at chess.
So, he doesn’t date. I suppose I’m not surprised at that, because he doesn’t exactly come across as a dinner-and-flowers kind of guy—even though here we are, at dinner, and he’s sent me flowers ... twice. A quiet, warm glow hums through me with that knowledge. I mean, yes, it could be a total lie, but something about the way he’s looking at me tells me it isn’t.
Do I want to ask him why he doesn’t date? It surely has to be commitment phobia or he’s newly single. In the end, I decide to shelve the question entirely. It’s something we can talk about another time. I’m more interested in Jake the man. What drives him, what his ambitions are, what he wants out of his life.
“No, it isn’t,” I confirm. “Tell what made you want to open a nightclub. Was it something you always wanted to do?”
He seems to think about this one harder than the last, which is strange. Surely, questions about your personality and trust issues are more difficult?
“No. What I always wanted to do was be a fireman,” he says before shaking his head as though it’s a ridiculous idea. Did he just give me an additional piece of information for free? “The club was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I’d been thinking about it for a few years, putting the money away for something, then this popped up. I kinda hoped it’d be the start of something. Not having to work for someone else anymore. A fresh start, you know? What a fucking fantasy that turned out to be.” He laughs again, but it’s bitter. He looks annoyed. He really can switch emotions so quickly. It’s faintly unsettling.
“Why was it a fantasy?”
When he lifts his head, his eyes are on fire. His face looks colder, meaner, as though he’s trying to keep a lid on whatever’s making him angry. Maybe my questions are.
“Last question, I take it?” He raises his eyebrow at me.
I want to know why it’s a fantasy. And why he’s angry about it. But I also want to know about his family, where he grew up, and what he does when he’s not naked in my bed. But I can’t have them all. Not tonight anyway.
Not until he knows I’m a safe pair of hands.
“No. Tell me something about your childhood,” I say finally. That’s not a proper question, and I know it. It’s more of a general topic, designed to start a discussion about why he doesn’t speak with his parents or his brother. I think I see him wince, but it could be my imagination.
“Come on, Alex. That’s a bit vague. My childhood?” His tone is mocking and cold, and I know my little gambit here has failed.
“Oh, come on, Jake. Seriously? This is bloody ridiculous—can’t you see that? How on earth can I get involved with someone who has so much difficulty having a two-way conversation? I mean, why am I here? Why were you so keen to do this if you don’t want me to know anything about you?” I ask, hating the way my voice sounds high-pitched.
He stares at me, biting the inside of his mouth that way he does when he’s thinking about something especially hard.
“It’s impossible. This will never work.” I let the statement hang in the air for a few seconds to see if he’ll counter it, but he doesn’t. With a sad sigh, I slide along the booth and get up from the table.