Ugh, my head is all gooey right now. I need a coffee.
I’m being irrational and silly that my pride is hurt, I know, but I’m a girl and it’s my prerogative to be just so.
“You want a coffee?” I ask Vicky, as I’m leaving her office. “I’m making.”
“I’m fine, my darling, thank you.”
I’m just heading past my desk, on my way to the kitchen to fire the kettle up when my mobile starts to ring.
I lean over my desk and grab my phone. It’s Jake. I get little butterflies setting flight in my tummy.
I’m going to have to knock this off if I’m going to be working with him…
People don’t work with me, Tru. They work for me.
Okay, so working for him – whatever. I hope he’s not as bad a person to work for as it’s claimed he can be.
“You had that coffee yet?” he says before I get a chance to speak.
“No, debido a las interrupciones constantes.”
“Tru, I haven’t got a f**kin’ clue what you just said, but I’ll take the ‘no’ I caught out of that, as you haven’t.”
“No, I haven’t,” I laugh.
“Okay, well I’m not calling back again, so listen up. I’m picking you up for lunch because I want to go over with you what will happen on the tour.”
Do I get a choice?
“Shouldn’t that be your assistant’s job to talk to me about that stuff?” I question.
“Well if I wanted my assistant to have lunch with you then yeah it would be, but I don’t, so you’re getting me – okay?”
“What if I already have plans?”
“Do you?”
“Yes?”
Silence.
“With?”
Do I detect a hint of jealously there, Jake?
“Starbucks. I meet him every day at one for a coffee and blueberry muffin.”
I hear him exhale down the line.
“Would you consider ditching him for me?” His voice has gone all seductive and flirty again.
“I don’t know … it’s a pretty serious thing me and Starbucks have going on.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Go on?”
“I’m talking cake, Tru, lots and lots of cake…”
“Starbucks who?” I giggle
“Cool, be outside your building at one.”
“Sí, señor.”
I hear him laugh before I hang up.
I feel absolutely full of glee. Jake is being lovely, and flirty, and I’m seeing him again in just a few hours.
But no, I need to calm myself down. I’m going to be working for Jake, so I need to keep myself professional.
He might be an old friend, an incredibly flirty old friend. But that’s Jake. That’s his MO.
And I need to remember that, and not confuse this into something it’s not.
The black Land Rover that Dave was following us around in last night is already parked outside my building when I go down at one.
Dave gets out of the car and walks around, opening the back passenger door for me.
“Hello again,” he says.
“Hi,” I whisper shyly.
I climb in the back and Jake is there waiting for me. Looking his gorgeous rock star self in light blue ripped jeans, a faded black Stone Roses ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ T-shirt, and the same Converses he wore last night.
“Hey,” he says, his voice all rough, and smooth like honey, as Dave closes the door behind me.
“Hey yourself,” I smile.
I can smell Jake’s scent across the car. Cigarettes and aftershave. It makes my tummy flutter.
Dave climbs back in the drivers’ seat and pulls us away into the heavy lunchtime traffic.
“So how’s your morning been?” Jake asks me.
“Oh, you know, long.”
“Much happen?”
I slide a look at him. “Apart from a famous rock star who also used to be my next door neighbour growing up calling me and offering me a job to write his bio on his upcoming tour? No, not much at all.” I shake my head, grinning.
“Is that all I was – your next-door neighbour? I thought I earned the title best friend back then.”
His words make my tummy feel funny. Suddenly empty.
“You did … and we were best friends.”
“Were?”
“Well it’s been a while, Jake. You don’t just get that status back after one dinner.” I smile again, trying to alleviate whatever this is.
“I guess I’m going to have to work a little harder then to claim my title back,” his voice is low with meaning. He smiles at me, and my heart lurches out of my chest and whams straight into him once again.
“So am I allowed to know where we’re going for lunch today, or is that a surprise too?” I give him a light-hearted look, trying to straighten out my erratic heart and shaky emotions.
“Just back to the hotel. I hope that’s okay?”
“Sure it is.”
I’d eat fish and chips in the backseat of a car if it meant being with you.
“It’s just less hassle, means we won’t get bothered,” he adds, as though he has to explain why he’s taking me back to his suite.
“Jake, it’s okay, I understand.” I touch his arm.
He looks down at my hand on his tattooed arm, then up at my face.
Something passes in the air between us.