But dammit, I really, really wanted this internship.
My fingers tremble as I pull my phone out of my purse. I should order a car to take me to the train station. Instead, I think about Jake’s text from yesterday, the one urging me to call him.
I bite my lip.
Calling him is probably a terrible idea.
But I do it, anyway.
“Wow, you’re talking to me again,” Jake says when we meet up twenty minutes later. “What did I do to deserve this honor?”
My spirits are so low I can’t even conjure up a sarcastic remark. “I didn’t get the internship,” I say flatly. “Mulder chose three guys with penises instead of me.”
“As opposed to guys without penises?” He smiles, but his humor doesn’t linger. “I’m sorry, Hottie. That sucks.” He reaches out as if to touch me, but then thinks better of it and drops his arm to his side.
We’re on the front steps of the Bright-Landry Hockey Center, which feels like absolute blasphemy. Luckily, none of his teammates are around. When I called him, he admitted that practice ended hours ago and he’d stayed behind to watch game tape on his own. That’s dedication. And while I admire it, that also means I have to meet him here instead of his condo. The condo would have been highly preferable.
To add insult to injury, the sky decides to mimic my mood, taking this exact moment as opportunity to dump a mountain of rain on us. It’s been cloudy and chilly all day, but suddenly the sky is black and it’s pouring buckets, soaking our hair in seconds.
“Come inside,” Jake urges, grabbing my hand.
We rush into the building, where I cringe at the sight of the championship pennants and all the framed crimson jerseys. “What if someone sees us?” I hiss as I shove my damp hair away from my forehead.
“Then they see us. Who cares? We’re just talking, right?”
“I feel exposed. We’re too out in the open,” I grumble.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Let’s go to the media room. It’s private and I’m the only one in there.”
I follow him down the hall, my gaze eating up his long stride. It’s been less than a week since I last saw him, and somehow I forgot how tall he is, how attractive. He didn’t hug or kiss me hello. I didn’t hug or kiss him hello, either. Now I kinda wish I had.
In a state-of-the-art media room that rivals the one we have at Briar, I unzip my leather jacket and drape it over the back of a nearby chair. Then I plop into one of the plush chairs and stick out my chin glumly. “I really wanted that internship.”
“I know you did.” Jake settles in the chair next to mine, stretching those impossibly long legs out in front him. “But maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Even if he hadn’t been your direct supervisor, you still would’ve had to interact with Mulder. And that guy is the worst.”
“True.” I suddenly notice the image on the big screen. It’s Hunter Davenport’s lean body crouching during a faceoff. “Spying, are we?” I crack.
“It’s not spying, it’s due diligence. And don’t tell me your boys aren’t doing the exact same thing right now.”
“Well, I didn’t come here to reveal Briar secrets, so don’t ask me anything about my boys.”
He glances over, his chiseled face serious. “Then why are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, your cousin lives in the city. And I assume you have other friends here, too.”
“So?”
“So why was I the first person you called after you got the bad news?”
I flick my gaze to his. “You don’t know that you’re the first person I called. Maybe nobody else picked up.”
“Did you call anybody else?” Jake asks politely.
“No,” I admit, which forces me to look inward, because why did I call him? We went on a couple of dates, talked on the phone a few times, fooled around a time or two. There is no reason why Jake should have been my go-to comfort person today. I have a good support system—Summer, Audrey, Elisa, to name a few. Why didn’t I reach out to any of them?
“Why me?” he pushes.
I let out a frazzled breath. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He chuckles softly. “You like me.”
“I don’t like you.”
“Yes, you do. That’s why you kicked me out last week.”
“No, I kicked you out because my father was standing outside the door while we were sixty-nine-ing.”
Jake makes a growly sound. “You just had to bring that up.”
“What, my father?”
“No, what we were doing.” His eyes gleam seductively. “Now I’m hard.”
“I feel like you’re always hard,” I grumble back.
“Come here and test that theory.” He pats his lap, while enticingly waggling his eyebrows.
I can’t stop a laugh. “What theory? You already admitted to being hard.”
He crosses his ankles together, staring down at his Converse sneakers for a few seconds. “Okay. So you’re saying you threw me out because your father almost caught us.”