My Blue River (5 page)

********

“So this is what a small town café looks like, huh?” I said as I looked around one of the two cafés that existed in Blue River.

We tossed a coin and Café 200 won, but I was certain there was no winning of anything in this town. The booth was small and the fabric on the seat was tattered, and there were chips in the tile flooring. I was fairly certain that if I really wanted to, I could scrape oil from the walls. Aaron laughed at my disgust in the appearance of this place. I was so desperate for something to do that I actually asked Aaron if he would go out to lunch with me.

“I’m guessing everything on the menu will be covered in gravy,” I said, reading the menu and discovering how bleak the food options were.

“I wish it were covered in weed,” snickered Aaron.

“Dude, you’ve really got to stop doing that. There’s clearly not much of your brain left,” I chastised. My advice meant nothing to him. He just rolled his eyes at me.

When the young waitress arrived to take our order, I asked her if there was anything that wouldn’t clog each and every one of my arteries. I could tell by her furrowed brows and gaping mouth that my question had confused her. She looked young. I guessed she was somewhere near Aaron’s age. Her name tag read, Lindsay.

“Never mind. We still need a minute,” I rescued her from her confusion.

Aaron snickered about the expression on her face then said he thought she was cute, and she was, but she was also obviously an airhead.

Two minutes later, Lindsay returned with a plate of butter and a note. “This is from the guy in the corner booth,” she announced with a satisfied grin as she pointed in his direction. I looked back and saw it was Jack. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

I took the note from her. It read:
“
Here’s hoping your arteries clog
.”
I looked back at him and rolled my eyes again. He was smirking back at me, obviously very pleased with himself.

“Man, he’s an ass,” I declared.

“Who? Jack?” asked Aaron.

“Yeah. Jack the handyman,” I sneered.

“Really? I think he’s pretty cool.”

“You would. He’s probably a stoner, too.”

“Man, I hope so. I need some connections.”

“Shut up, brat!”

Aaron pulled a face. We finally placed our order, which I had to repeat because sweet, little Lindsay didn’t understand what
dressing on the side
meant. Before long Aaron was yelling, “Hey, Jack! Come join us!”

My eyes popped open wide in surprise and on some level, fear. “Shhh…what are you doing? Are you insane?” I hissed.

“I’m getting even for the
brat
comment,” he retorted with a smart-aleck grin. He continued to wave at Jack.

I turned around to see if he was coming our way and he was—drink in hand, ready to take a seat. My heart beat faster. I hated the jittery feeling he was giving me. He plopped down right next to me, forcing me to scoot over, but I could still feel our bodies touching. It was an exciting feeling.
How is this happening? He’s not at all my type!

“Well, thanks for the offer Aaron. That’s really nice of you. At least one of the Davis children has manners,” said Jack. I snapped my head in his direction. He knew I was looking but refused to meet my glare.

He continued talking to Aaron as if I weren’t there until I asked, “Don’t you need to be working for my dad today? You’re having a rather long lunch break, don’t you think?”

He turned and gave me a sarcastic smile and replied, “Actually, I’m not working for
your dad
today, but thanks for the concern. It’s nice to know you care.”

“Oh, please. Do NOT get me wrong. I’m not concerned about YOU.”

“Really, you sure seem worried about what I should be doing.”

I let out “Hmpf!” and resumed looking out the window.

“Does she always cave this easy?” Jack asked Aaron, who spit out his water as he laughed.

Jack and Aaron enjoyed a little laugh at my expense and just then, our food arrived. I took a napkin and dabbed the grease off my fries as Jack and Aaron had an entire conversation about Harley-Davidson Motorcycles. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen Aaron construct complete sentences in so long that it was nice to see him be a seemingly, normal fifteen-year-old kid. Nonetheless, I hated that it was Jack who was making him seem so normal.

As I watched them talk, I noticed Jack would laugh at nearly everything Aaron said and I realized that I had forgotten how funny Aaron could be.
Aaron is such a great kid. I wish he’d pull it together.
Then I noticed Jack had a great laugh. It was hearty but not obnoxious. As usual, I found his smile amazing and I loved that he was genuine. There was no pretense with Jack at all. I cursed myself for noticing. I hated the flutter he was giving my heart and yet it was the most incredible feeling I had experienced in a very long time. Just weeks ago I thought I was on the brink of death and today I sat in a dumpy café feeling very much alive and very interested in the person making me feel that way. He asked me to pass the ketchup and as I handed it to him, our finger tips briefly touched. I couldn’t resist. I decided to join their conversation. I even managed to leave out snarky comments. Jack and Aaron took turns telling jokes and I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself. I couldn’t believe I was having such a great time.
This was an enjoyable encounter with Jack.

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Jack’s Journal

Wednesday, June 16

I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I overhead Addy being rude to Lindsay at Café 200 today. She was criticizing the food and how it would clog her arteries so I sent over a stick of butter and a note. Lindsay was all too happy to help with my joke. Looks like Addy has already offended someone other than me in Blue River. I knew that wouldn’t take too long. My only regret is not being able to see her first response to the note. Aaron’s expression was pretty priceless though, so I assume I would have loved how she looked.

It’s interesting that she’s spending time with her brother. I haven’t quite figured out what his deal is or just how well they get along, but it makes me wish I had a brother or sister myself.

I sat next to her in the booth just to irritate her, but when I sat down, I felt her arm against mine. It sent a jolt straight through my heart that I’ve never, ever, felt before. I hope she didn’t notice. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her. I have a feeling this is going to go horribly wrong…or right…and maybe even right will be wrong. Oh hell, now I’ve confused myself.

********

Three weeks had passed since my encounter with Jack at Café 200, which I now affectionately called Café Barf. I hated to admit I was growing accustomed to seeing him. Today, he was helping dad with the yard. I thought we should just light a match and start over but then again, I wouldn’t have such an enjoyable view if we did. Dad had gone to a store for some supplies so Mom insisted I take lemonade out to Jack. I feigned a protest, but really, I couldn’t wait to see him. I walked apprehensively toward him with a pitcher of lemonade and a glass that had already been filled. Just as I came up behind him, he turned around and removed his t-shirt. I sucked in a breath. I now truly understood the definition of breathtaking. He was slender, but muscular, and tan. His six pack abs were well defined. Clearly, he spent a lot of time outside and a lot of time working hard or working out, either way, he looked great.
Boy, this guy isn’t hard on the eyes at all!

“Uh-um,” I cleared my throat, announcing my arrival. I felt like I may have been blushing. I knew if I touched my cheeks they would feel warm.

I must have surprised him because he jumped a little when he heard me. He was dripping with sweat as he scrubbed the backside of his hand across his forehead. He then ran his fingers through his wavy hair. If I could have pressed a slow-motion button, the whole scene could have been in a music video. He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed of his bare torso. I was impressed by his confidence.

“Oh, hey!” he said, a little out of breath. He eyed the lemonade and licked his lips. “That looks good.”

“Well, that’s good. It’s for you.” I made an attempt at sounding friendly—as in “the girl next door” friendly. I extended the full glass to him. In two gulps it was down his throat. I added more lemonade to his glass, which he drank a little slower.

When he finished, he said, “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”

“Thank my mom. She insisted I bring it out.”

“Well, then, thank your mom for me.” A brief silence ensued until he said, “It wasn’t your idea to feed
the help
, huh?”

“No. I don’t typically offer drinks to people who are rude,” I tried to sound like I was joking.

“Yeah…” He dragged the word out. “Is this about the butter?”

“Very funny, by the way.”

“Thanks. I thought so. Oh wait. That wasn’t an actual compliment?” He laughed. “One of the benefits of a small town is that you can get just about anyone to help you pull off a joke,” he added.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed, which seemed to relax him and he laughed along with me. He was funny and extremely charming.

I submitted to the situation. “Okay, I have to admit that really was pretty funny and this time, it’s an actual compliment,” I said with a smile.

“Hey, I have an idea,” he offered, “Let’s start over or at least have a truce because...I actually enjoyed having lunch with you at Café 200, despite my butter joke.”

“Really?” I asked hesitantly. “Because it seemed to me you enjoyed spending time with Aaron.”
Crap!
I knew I sounded like I cared. I hadn’t even meant to say it or rather, I hadn’t meant to actually care let alone reveal it.

“Oh.” He blushed and looked away. He seemed speechless. I couldn’t believe it. In the brief time I knew Jackson Cooper, he was rarely, if ever, speechless.

We stood in a moment of silence, avoiding stolen glances. The chemistry between us was palpable, and my heart began to beat faster, which was never a good thing for me so I decided to end the moment.

“Well, I agree to a truce,” I announced.

“You do?” His voice went up an octave.

That’s so cute!

“Yeah, I do. You’re an okay guy, I guess.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Miss Addy.”

Sheesh! He called me Miss Addy. Okay, I have to admit, that’s kinda cute, too.

“Well, I better get back inside,” I pointed in the direction of the house, “My mom has me removing some really ugly retro wallpaper in the kitchen and I don’t want to tick off the warden.” I said, chuckling a little at my joke.

He chuckled, too. “Oh, sure, I understand and again, please thank your mom for the lemonade, okay?” He handed the empty glass back to me. As I reached for it, our fingers touched and just not briefly—more than at the café—as if he had made the effort to make sure our fingers overlapped. It gave my heart a jolt and when I looked up at him, he was smiling. He was feeling it, too, I could tell.

“Oh, y-y-you’re welcome. Guess I’ll be seeing you around, huh?” I stammered through my sentence.

“Yeah, your parents have a lot of work to be done and it seems your dad is kind of a…a…city guy…I guess is what I’m looking to say. I mean, he’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing when it comes to doing handyman work.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad. I couldn’t agree more. They have
NO
idea what they’re doing.”