Page 26 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)

So much for avoiding Jake as a topic. “He’s…

obviously easy on the eyes.” I blush, and Iz nudges me, grinning.

“He’s kind and thoughtful—I mean, he jumped at the opportunity to help me out with Weston, and he’s amazing with patients.

And…Jake really listens to me, you know?

I feel seen when I’m with him.” I stare off into the distance recalling how we couldn’t stop laughing in Coffee Conglomerate.

“And I just have so much fun with him! I feel like I’m always smiling and laughing when we’re together. Plus, he’s such a good singer.”

Oh my God…I’ve totally fallen for him, haven’t I?

“Wait,” Amelia says. “How do you know he’s a good singer?”

I redden even further. “Um, I went over to his apartment on Sunday?”

Zoe and Iz whirl on me.

“You didn’t tell us about this!” Iz says, pouting. And then: “Wait, those Instagram photos of you two—were they taken here ? You have some explaining to do, missy.”

Sighing, I tell them about how we met up at Coffee Conglomerate, went to each other’s apartments, the showdowns between us and Sam, Sterling, and Weston, and heading to Bill’s right after.

Then bringing Bill’s burgers to Jake at work and finding Sam there, probably crying.

“So yeah…all of this is moot because he’s totally not over Sam. ”

“Do you want him to be over Sam?” Amelia asks, her eyes seeing too much.

I look down at my hands. “Initially? I really did just want to help him. I felt terrible that he was just doing the whole fake dating bit because of me. But now? Now I wish I could go kick some sense into Past Me.”

Isabelle interjects, “What does Jake say about Sam? Has he told you explicitly that he wants to get back with her? ”

That’s a good question. I scour my mind for anything specific Jake’s said about how he feels about Sam, but I’m unable to come up with anything.

And in fact, when the whole fake dating discussion happened, wasn’t it me that pushed the issue?

Was Jake ever that enthusiastic about it?

But why would he just go along with it if he didn’t even want to be with Sam? None of this is making any sense.

“In my opinion, there’s nothing made-up about this.” Isabelle waves her phone at us. “We’ve all seen these adorable Instagram posts. You can’t fake that!”

Zoe nods. “I don’t always agree with Iz, but those photos don’t lie.”

“Are you sure Jake’s still into Sam?” Amelia asks gently. “He honestly sounds more interested in you than her at this point.”

I bury my head in my hands. “I don’t know! I’m so confused.”

“Well, it’s time to leave. Maybe you’ll get more clarity when you see Jake in person again,” Iz winks at me.

I can only hope she’s right.

“Thanks, guys, you’re the best,” I say, as we gather in a group hug.

“Hey, you are worth it and more,” Amelia says seriously. Zoe and Iz nod their agreement.

My insides clench as I realize how close I was to losing their friendship because of Weston. I’m so lucky to still have these amazing women in my corner.

Amelia pulls out her phone and requests an Uber to TNT so that all of us can drink tonight. This way we can all let loose—we deserve it.

When we approach the front of the line at TNT, a tall Black man guarding the door whistles as he sees us. Somehow, he makes the sound friendly, not leering—a tricky balance. This must be Eddie. I can see why he’s the bouncer. “You ladies look ready for a night out!” he says as he checks our IDs.

“I think we have some tickets? We’re friends of Jake’s?” I say, uncertainty threading my voice. It’s okay if Jake forgot to comp us; maybe he didn’t remember we were coming.

Eddie grins and peers more closely at me. “Oh yes, I do believe Jake mentioned you.” He hands us four neon orange paper wristbands. “These are your tickets, so if you need to run out for any reason, these are your way back in.”

I nod my thanks as my heart races. Jake remembered. He remembered . That has to mean something, right? But then I tell myself to calm down—he would do that for anyone. He’s just that kind of guy.

The night is sweltering, so the cool air blasting from the vents is a relief.

But maybe I’m heating on the inside for a completely different reason.

My eyes are already scanning the stage for Jake. I’m disappointed when I realize the guy singing and playing on the right-hand piano isn’t him. Where is he?

But then my eyes drift to the left side of the stage, where they rake over familiar broad shoulders in a plain white T-shirt.

Slowly I scrutinize every detail of Jake’s profile—the clean line of his nose, the part of his full lips, the long lashes tilted towards the requests in his hands.

His dark hair is in disarray, partially covering a pencil behind his ear.

I track the contraction of his biceps as he flips through the small pieces of paper.

Exhilaration rushes through me at the sight of him, and I immediately try to shove the sensation away. He’s not mine right? No matter how much he feels like my safe space, no matter how much I feel at home with him—that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t feel the same.

But no matter what I do, I’m having a difficult time suppressing my growing feelings for Jake.

I’m startled out of my reverie when Zoe yells over the din, “I’m gonna head to the bar. I’ll grab us all drinks!”

Iz, Amelia, and I shuffle forwards, attempting to get closer to the stage. TNT is already packed; we may not be able to find seats at this point.

Suddenly, as if he can sense my presence, Jake pivots towards me, a sideways grin curving across his lips, his dimples making an appearance. When our eyes meet, I gasp involuntarily—our connection has only deepened since we met…at least on my end.

Suddenly self-conscious, I quickly break eye contact, positive that Jake must have noticed the pink creeping up my cheeks even though that's likely impossible in this darkened space .

Unaware of my inner turmoil, Jake lifts his hand in greeting as he jogs over to us. “Hey, Lucy!” he says with a warm smile.

“Hey,” I say faintly, feeling my pulse speed up even more from his proximity.

We stand there for a beat, grinning like idiots at each other. The almost kiss, the holding hands, the night at Bill’s that didn’t start as a date but sure felt like one by the end—maybe that was real?

Amelia clears her throat loudly. “Hey, I’m Amelia,” she says, sticking out her hand.

“Oh!” I say, embarrassed. At this point, my heart sounds like a jackhammer echoing in my body, and the thudding rhythm is extremely distracting. “Yes, this is Amelia, and you’ve already met Isabelle. And Zoe’s somewhere near the bar.”

When I say the word “bar,” Jake’s eyes narrow and glance towards the side of the room, but the applause and cheers signifying the end of the last song request redirects his attention to me.

“I reserved a table near the front for you guys,” Jake says, his dimples only deepening, and I have an irresistible urge to touch one.

While I’m shoving my hands into my pockets in a barely successful attempt to resist, he points to a small empty table with a white sign that has “Reserved for Lucy” written in Sharpie.

The sight of my name in Jake’s scrawling script sends a sharp thrill through me.

Jake lowers his lips closer to my ear, the sensation of his breath lighting my nerves on fire. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Giving me a quick wink and a hand squeeze, Jake clambers back on stage and settles at the piano bench. He’s so confident— completely in his element. His relaxed affect at TNT reminds me of how he was at Bill’s, but magnified even more. It makes sense that this is very much his comfort zone.

Buzzing from head to toe, I touch the spot where he grabbed my hand.

What if this isn’t just an act?

“Oh my God, look,” Amelia says, nudging me.

At the door is my worst nightmare—Weston Ashcroft in the flesh, scanning the crowd with a scowl on his face.

“The villain of your story is here,” Isabelle breathes.

Wait, why is Weston here? With a sinking dread in my gut, I flash back to my stupid previous self informing him exactly where I’d be this Saturday.

Why do I keep doing this? You’d think I’d remember to tamp down my overexuberant mouth by now.

And due to my chronic oversharing, I have to worry about Weston when I just wanted to focus on Jake and my friends.

Clocking my position, Weston shoots me something between a sneer and a smirk. Shuddering, I turn aside, feeling the menace of his gaze.

Jake’s not the only one under the spotlight tonight.

“Personally, I’d focus on your eye candy on the stage, not the steaming pile of caca behind you,” Isabelle says.

I snort. It’s typical for Iz to bypass standard curses and instead replace it with something more creative. But it never fails in making me smile.

I glance back up on the stage where Jake is readjusting his microphone to be closer to his lips. Oh, that mouth !

He nimbly begins the familiar chord progression of a well-known Van Morrison song. “Thanks so much for joining us tonight! For my next song, I’d like to dedicate this to my beautiful girlfriend Lucy in the front row. Feel free to sing along!”

It’s that word again, and my heart is set to burst out of my chest.

Girlfriend.

Would Jake really say that again in such a public setting if he didn’t feel something?

As if in response, he stares straight at me with a dimpled grin and starts singing “Brown-Eyed Girl.”

A squeal erupts from Isabelle, and Amelia is smiling too.

As for me, I’m falling headfirst, toppling over the precipice.

Jake’s voice pours over me, the honey baritone melting me into my chair.

No doubt this song is a crowd classic, and a personal favorite of mine, but the lyrics are suddenly hitting me hard.

There’s so much nostalgia in the words—a lost love that’s in the past. Will this be us?

Will Jake just be that boy that I’ll remember fondly who serenaded me once long ago?

Will we both become just a fleeting memory?

“He’s your fake boyfriend, huh?” Amelia startling me out of my bittersweet reverie, making air quotes when she says “fake.”

“Damn, girl,” Iz breathes. “That guy has got it bad for you.”

I’m startled out of my trance by my friends’ comments. Could Jake possibly feel something more for me than just friendship? But he’s not over Sam, right?

I clear my throat. “I’m sure he saw Weston, and he’s just putting on a show. You know, for the fake dating. ”

Iz gives me a sympathizing look and reaches over to touch my hand. “Oh honey, bless your heart.”

Wait, could this actually be something?

At that moment, Zoe sidles up with a tray of four glasses of white wine.

“Did you suddenly become a barista?” Amelia shoots Zoe an amused look.

“Yeah, maybe I should take this on as a side gig. At least I'd get paid,” Zoe grumbles, rolling her eyes as she lowers the tray to our table. “By the way, that bartender is hella hot, but also kind of an asshole.”

The three of us turn as one to glance back at the bar, and sure enough, a guy in a backwards green cap gives us a small salute.

“Did you all have to look at him at once?” Zoe hisses. “Jeez, be more obvious!”

"He's wearing your color," Iz remarks, probably referring to his dark green cap.

"Well, I guess that's one point in his favor," says Zoe with a huff.

I raise my eyebrows. “Since when do you care about a guy’s opinion?” I ask, glad that the focus is on someone else. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“I’m not the only one who is protesting too much. Fake date, my ass,” Zoe mutters, plunking down into the last seat.

Annnnd of course Zoe heard Jake’s declaration.

Once again I wonder why he would choose to announce our “coupledom” in a place that he probably considers a second home. Is it really because of Weston ?

My thoughts are whirling as I refocus on Jake, who is finishing up the chorus, his hands flying on the keys.

The crowd loves him, and most of the patrons are singing along to the words.

Even though I know the lyrics by memory, I just mouth them silently.

I shiver during the last chorus—I still can’t believe Jake’s dedicated this song to me .

And his eyes remain fixed in my direction the entire time.

What if…this isn’t just for show?

Could this really be something more?

“Jake definitely has feelings for you. No guy would do this for a girl he didn’t like.” Isabelle nudges me excitedly.

Is Iz right? My chest aches with emotion, hoping for something that couldn’t possibly be true.

I’m drawn to Jake, for better or worse. But if he returned my feelings, would it even matter with the obstacles standing in the way? I have so much baggage to deal with. In fact, some of that baggage walked into TNT tonight and is currently glaring at us.

And what about Sam?

None of this matters if Jake still wants to be with her.

I manage to suppress these thoughts for the next couple of hours so I can focus on Jake.

He and his partner alternate playing songs, sometimes joining forces for duets or yelling jokes back and forth.

They lob crumpled requests to one another, all while seamlessly ensuring there are no gaps in the music.

Then they perform a totally hilarious rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” The girls and I crack up when both guys exaggerate their falsettos in perfect harmony.

We aren’t alone—the crowd is loving it .

“Jake’s really good,” Amelia says, jerking my attention towards her. “I’m impressed.”

Amelia is hard to please. She has classical training and plays the violin. So if she says he’s good, he’s good.

But if I’m honest, I’ve been impressed by Jake for a while now.

Not only is he some sort of Renaissance man, but he’s just…

more . I feel like I’ve met someone that just gets me, a soul-deep connection that I’ve never felt before.

I wonder how many times a person can feel that kind of undeniable pull towards someone else.

I’m assuming not many. And I’m falling—headfirst without guardrails, no parachute or safety device.

And maybe I’m okay with that. Because it’s Jake.

He’s always been a soft place to land.

But then I notice Weston standing by the bar with a thunderous look on his face, like he would love to pummel Jake into the floor.

With a creeping sense of horror, it’s dawning on me that Weston is here to stay, no matter what I do. How can I even contemplate starting anything with Jake if we are haunted by my past every step of the way?