Page 85 of June: Jess' Story

“Ha, no, I wasn’t thinking that at all, Jess.” There’s something about the way he just said my name. Like he remembered it, like I’m not forgettable. Like I’m not a nobody. I give him a wan smile.

“It does sort of feel like we just got set up on some weird blind date, though, doesn’t it?”

Damian chokes on his beer in response, then eventually starts laughing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “the, uh, setup,” then shakes his head, “it was all wrong. Alex wasn’t smooth about it. At all.”

“Is he usually so emotionally stunted, your friend?” I ask him.

“Yes, actually. But it’s what endears him to me.” I laugh at that. Right, maybe that’s what I need. A friend.

“Okay. Are you suggesting I go out and find a friend who’s a bigger mess than myself to make me feel better?” Damian raises both eyebrows and sort of nods like I couldn’t have hit the nail on the head any harder.

“That’s not what I was sayingexactly, but don’t think it could hurt,” he answers with a cheeky smile that makes me take a second look at him.

“Okay, great. Are you a mess? If yes, would you like to be friends?” I ask him, completely straight faced. He laughs this big warm laugh. For a second, when he laughs, it snuffs out the pain of earlier.

“Check yes or no? Huh?” I shrug at his question. “What happens if I check yes?” He asks with a smile.I think— yes, definitely — he’s flirting with me.

“If you check yes, we’re going to have an amazing night. If you check no, we’ll stand here and blindly watch this UFC fight playing in this fine establishment until someone gets knocked unconscious.” I wonder if some of our country’s greatest politicians ever stood in this exact spot and had money on our society devolving to watching people get pummeled nearly to death on tv.

“And also, do you like this?” I motion to the tv.

“No, but I like the distraction,” he says a bit solemnly. Okay, I can agree with that.

He stealthily pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket and draws a square on his cocktail napkin. He writes yes beside it, then checks the box. He slides the napkin over to me and I give him a smile.

“Alright then, drink up. Big night ahead of us.” He downs what’s left of his beer and then I take his hand and lead him out to an atrium that leads to the other side of the building.Fuck you, Alex. And goodbye.

“I haven’t eaten, so if there’s any chance of me lasting till 2:00 A.M. for dancing, this girl has gotta eat. So Jumbo Slice or Ben's? Your choice.”

Damian stares at me like he might be in love before eventually saying, “Jumbo Slice.” That’s what I was thinking, too.

“Great!” After the shot at the other place and the three beers we drank playing pool and skee ball at a very seedy establishment, I’m feeling warm and nice and not at all like an epic failure for putting all my hopes and dreams into a man who turned out to be a farce.

Damian leans forward and tells our cab driver where to go while I quickly kick my heels off and stretch my toes before sliding them back on. I notice Damian watching me as I do, a sort of heat in his eyes.

“I mean, foot fetishes aren’t really my thing…but I could be open.” I say it semi-jokingly and he starts laughing his ass off. When he settles back in his seat, heaving a deep breath, I slip a hand on his leg and whisper, “Really this is a judgment-free zone here, D.” His cheeks turn bright pink. And he blinks a couple times, looking down at my hand and then back at me.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” I laugh at hiscornyfucking line.But honestly, for as corny as it is, not that many people have when I actually think about it. People always say “pretty.” Or “hot.” The word “beautiful” doesn’t get tossed around nearly enough.

“Yeah, I think a gay guy at the subway once said it in passing, but I think he also said it to the 90-year-old woman standing beside me. Not that she’s not beautiful, too! Because beauty comes in a lot of different?—”

His mouth over mine shuts me up. My stomach sinks.Not Alex.But then my heart soars because this man has been afuckingpleasure to be with. All night.

I slip my tongue into his mouth and he groans, sending a sort of pride and need pulsing through my veins. He bites my lip, and I fucking love it. And yeah, maybe I’m just throwing my problems at this situation. Maybe I’m throwing caution to the wind. My question here is: Why? The fuck? Not?

He finally releases my face when the cab comes to a stop, but not before gazing down on me first. There’s something he leaves unsaid, but I have the strangest feeling. I want to know what he’s thinking…

“Ahem”...and the cab driver is less than enthused with the wait for us to vacate.

We both sort of stumble onto the sidewalk laughing, and yeah, this is nice, too. Damian might not know everything about me. He doesn’t know my favorite movie or song, but he doesn’t have to. We can still have a good time. This still gives me hope that my person is out there. And maybe, just maybe, they won’t know a single thing about me, and they’ll still want me, regardless.

When I refuse to share a slice of pizza with the man, he actually pulls me into his side and wraps a hand around my hip.

And I like it.

He promptly orders two slices. Then, like a gentleman, says nothing when I only eat half of mine. But he does smile aggressively when he watches me try and sneak it into the trash can.