It makes my heart ache a little.
Forcing myself to focus, not wanting to miss a word he says, I start to write quickly trying to catch up as his enthusiastic words start to spill out.
And that’s how it is for the next thirty minutes. Question after question, I listen to him come more and more to life as he talks about his music; just like the old Jake I knew in so many ways.
It makes me miss him, in the oddest way, even though he’s sitting right here before me.
I keep all the questions music based. I don’t ask any of the questions I had lined up about Jonny Creed’s death, how it affected him or his time in rehab or about his personal life. It just wouldn’t feel in line with the whole vibe of the interview, and I don’t want to spoil the obvious pick-up in his mood, and I’ve got a feeling he wouldn’t answer them anyway.
To be honest I’m surprised I wasn’t vetted by Stuart on what I could and couldn’t ask Jake when I first arrived. That’s how it usually works with celebrities. Especially ones as high profile as Jake.
But then I get the distinct impression that Jake doesn’t play by the rule book in anything – and that any vetting to be done – he does himself.
I finish shorthand scribbling down his last answer and then close my note pad and put it back in my bag.
“Thank you,” I say.
“It’s been really good to see you, Tru.”
“You too.”
I feel a sudden lump in my throat and I realise, even though half an hour ago I felt like bolting, now, I don’t want to leave him. The thought of not seeing him again is constricting my heart in the weirdest kind of way.
Crazy, I know.
I reach down and pick my bag up, and stand. Jake follows suit, standing beside me.
I’m not really sure what to do now.
Do I shake his hand, or hug him, or what?
“Did you bring a coat?” he asks.
“It’s in my bag.” I turn to him. He looks down at me with his crystal clear blue eyes. “Thank you again for the interview. It was great.”
“You don’t have to thank me; I’d do an interview for you anytime.”
“I might hold you to that,” I laugh.
“Do,” he says. Not a trace of humour in his voice.
I suddenly feel unsteady. I put my bag strap onto my shoulder, holding my bag to me for support. “Thanks again for your time,” I smile and start to walk toward the door, my legs feeling like lead.
“So you’re heading back to work now?” Jake asks following behind me.
“Yes.”
“Do you need a ride? I can get Stuart to drive you.”
I feel a smart of disappointment. I actually thought he was going to offer to drive me back for a moment there. But then I guess Jake going out in a car is an awful lot of hassle to go to, just to drop off little old me. He’d probably need his full security team with him.
Not that that I’ve seen many of them around. Just Dave.
“It’s okay, thank you, I’ll walk, it’s not far.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He reaches for the handle to open the door for me, and stops. “Do you have plans tonight … because I was wondering if you would have dinner with me?”
My heart stops. Literally, stops.
Then goes kaboom in my chest.
I’m supposed to be going out for dinner with Will tonight. Will, my lovely boyfriend. Who I can’t cancel on again.
Can I?
If I say no to Jake, I might not get the chance to see him again.
Yes. No. No. Yes.
I’m speaking before I even realise I’m doing it.
“No I don’t have plans, I’m free. Completely free.”
He smiles, widely. “Great. Cool. So we can catch up properly without the threat of an interview hanging over us.” He gives me a small smile, a cheeky glint in his eyes.
Holy shit. Dinner with Jake.
My heart is doing somersaults in my chest.
It’s not a date. It’s not a date. It’s not a date.
“Yes.” My voice goes a little squeaky. I clear my throat. “Sounds like plan.”
He smiles again, it reaches all the way to his beautiful eyes. “Eight o’clock okay?”
Now would be fine with me. Yesterday, whenever, I’m easy.
“Eight o’clock is great.”
“Write down your address and I’ll come pick you up.”
I pull my note pad back out from my bag, quickly scribble down my address, tear the page out and hand it to him.
My fingers touch his in the exchange and my skin hums. I feel my face start to heat up again.
Jake glances at the paper in his hand, then folds it up and puts it in his back pocket.
He opens the door for me and stands aside to let me through.
We walk to the front door in silence, Stuart and Dave are nowhere to be seen.
When we reach the door, we stop for a moment facing one another.
I have no idea why, but I just feel sad again saying goodbye to him. Like I’m never going to see him again. Which is stupid because I’m going to see him tonight.
I’m seeing Jake tonight. A thrill shoots through me.
He reaches his hand up to my face and tucks my hair behind my ear. I almost swoon, my legs trembling, tummy butterflying.
Then he leans down and kisses my cheek.
The feel of his lips on my skin, his hot breath momentarily halts every moving particle of me, paralysing me to the spot, nearly sending me into convulsions.