“Well, I haven’t, not yet. But if I do, I have a number of rules to follow.” I hold up my fingers as I list them off. “It has to be during the day in a public place — never go to somebody’s house alone. I have to tell Michelle and Dad exactly where I’m going. And most importantly, Michelle and I have code words to text if we need each other to call and pretend there’s an emergency. That’s only for if the date is really bad, although so far I’ve only had to do it for Michelle twice.”
His eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them that I can’t quite decipher. A minute or two of silence passes.
“I’ll help you,” he says then.
“Huh?”
“With the dating. I’ll teach you how to come across as available. I shouldn’t have said that about your friend earlier. I’m sorry. She’s actually on the right track with what she’s told you. Usually, people who are single show that they’re available through their body language, while people who are happily in a relationship don’t. Since you’re single but are supposedly giving out unavailable vibes, there must be a reason why.”
I fold my arms. “What kind of a reason?”
Jay shrugs. “It’s probably just anxiety or something like that. But don’t worry — we’ll figure it out.”
Seven
When we arrive at the house, I go straight to my room. After the topic we discussed in the car, I don’t really want to face Jay for a while. It’s humiliating to have people know how hopeless I am when it comes to romance. The problem is, whenever I’m asked about it, I can’t help but to be brutally honest. It’s sort of a relief to get it all out and see what another person thinks. The idea of Jay helping isn’t as appealing as it should be. I mean, he probably really knows his stuff. However, I’d much rather if he helped me to successfully score him, rather than other men.
A hopeless situation if ever there was one.
After grabbing a bite to eat, I go take a shower and get ready for the evening ahead. My phone buzzes with a text just as I’m towelling dry my hair.
Michelle: So, is the sexy magician coming tonight or what?!
Matilda: Yeah, he’s coming.
Michelle: Oh, he definitely will be.
Matilda: Please don’t…Btw, I think he prefers illusionist to magician.
Michelle: Good to know. Wouldn’t want to offend. Xxx.
Once I’m ready, I use my phone to order a taxi and then knock on the wall between my room and Jay’s.
“What’s up, Watson?” Jay shouts. I think I can hear him chuckling to himself, and I have no idea why. He can be kind of odd sometimes.
“The taxi will be here in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be ready.”
The taxi signals its arrival with a honk from outside. I hurry downstairs, buttoning my long navy blue dress coat. Telling Dad I won’t be out too late, I whistle for Jay to come on. I hear the door to his room open, and then he’s coming down the stairs toward me. I stand there, working hard to keep my jaw in place.
He looks hot, but “hot” is probably an understatement.
Dressed in dark jeans and a form-fitting black shirt, his hair combed to the side, he definitely looks good enough to eat. Or lick.
What is it about this man that always makes my thoughts turn inappropriately sexual?
I shake myself out of it and give him a quick smile before leading the way outside. In the car, the driver falls into the no-conversation category. There are two kinds of taxi drivers, in my experience: the ones who want to talk your ear off and the ones who don’t want to talk at all.
Jay nods to my buttoned-up coat. “You not going to let me get a look at you in that dress?”
I tug at my sleeve, awkward under his inspection. Trying to sound casual, I reply, “You’ll get to see it at the bar.”
He sighs and drums his fingers impatiently on the window. “But I want a sneak peek.”
“Why?”
“Just do.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful reason, Jacob. May I call you Jacob?”
He laughs and shakes his head, looking out at the passing buildings now. “It’s Jason, actually. And I only let women call me that in the bedroom.” He winks.
I’m a little embarrassed, but I soldier on. “You want women to call you by your full name while they clean out your underwear drawer? That is a strange fetish, Jason.”
“Nope. I clean out my own underwear drawer, Watson. This is what I’m talking about.” He puts on a breathless, heaving voice several notes higher than his actual one, “Oh, Jason you’re a god. Fuck me harder, Jason. Jason, you’re the biggest I’ve ever had. Make me come, Jason.”
I practically dive across the seat to put my hand over his mouth, somewhere in between laughing hysterically and blushing profusely. “Shut up!” I whisper-shout, while the taxi driver gives Jay a displeased look through his overhead mirror.
Jay’s chest is rising and falling rapidly with suppressed laughter. When I’m certain he isn’t going to go off again, I pull my hand away from his surprisingly soft mouth and move back to my seat.
“I can’t believe you,” I say, shaking my head at him.
His eyes move to mine, the glow from the streetlamps outside lighting them up. They seem to travel over my features for an indeterminate amount of time. Then the car is stopping and the driver is telling us in a grumpy voice that we owe him fifteen euros.
Before I can dig into my purse, Jay is handing him a twenty and leaning across me to open the door. When he does, I get a waft of his cologne, and it smells divine. I try not to be too obvious when I inhale. Then I step out and spy Michelle having a cigarette outside the bar. We’re on one of the posher streets, and it’s lined with bars frequented by businessmen and professional types. Michelle always insists we go here because we’re more likely to snag a good catch.
Jay links his arm through mine and leads me to the entrance as I wave to Michelle. She’s wearing the black Chanel dress that I suggested, alongside a pair of sky-high purple heels, her coat draped over her arm. I pull away from Jay to go give her a hug.
“Hey, babes,” she sing-songs, and gives me peck on each cheek.
“Hi, you look amazing,” I tell her as her gaze travels to Jay expectantly, so I make the introductions. “This is our new housemate, Jay. Jay, this is my friend, Michelle.”
She thrusts out her hand, and Jay shakes with her. She seems disappointed that he doesn’t lean down for a kiss. A couple of weeks ago she had a date with a guy who did that, and she swooned to me about it over the phone for at least an hour.
“Michelle, good to meet you,” says Jay before letting go of her hand.
I’m not sure why, but I find myself studying their reactions to one another intently, trying to pinpoint something. What that something is exactly, I don’t know. In the back of my mind, I’m sort of hoping that they don’t end up fancying each other, despite Michelle’s enthusiasm thus far.
We go inside and manage to snag a table by the window. Jay helps me out of my coat, silently appraising my dress, the chest area in particular. Such a guy. Though I must confess, my push-up bra is doing excellent work on this occasion. Excellent work. A waiter comes over to take our drinks order, and I opt for the white wine.
“So, Jay, I hear you do magic for a living. That must be so much fun. I’m in marketing myself, so boring,” says Michelle.
“It’s fun until someone decides to write a story painting you as some kind of evil mastermind,” he replies to her, deadpan, before taking a sip of his drink. His blunt answer doesn’t faze her.
“Yeah, I heard about that, too. Oh,” she says, suddenly turning to me, “speaking of work, I have to do overtime this weekend to prepare for a big presentation we’ve got on Monday, so I can’t make it Sunday. I’m so sorry.”
“What?” I say quietly – sheepishly. “But we’ve had this planned for weeks. The tickets cost eighty euros, and I really don’t want to go without you.”