But maybe it’s not too late to make this better…
I pull my cell from my pocket, thumbs hovering over the letters as I search for the perfect words. But it only takes a few seconds for it to become obvious there are no perfect words. There’s only the truth and how much I want her to believe it, so I type—I’m sorry I made things uncomfortable between us when you already have so much on your plate. I meant everything I said, but you don’t have to do anything about it. We don’t have to talk about that, or anything else, ever again, if you don’t want to.
Just please, keep your interview. I’ll stay out of the process and out of your orbit if you get the job, so don’t worry about that.
I don’t want to be the reason you give up a position that would be perfect for you. I only want good things for you, Jess, for now and always, even if we never see each other again.
I really hope everything with your mom and your cousin and the new baby works out okay.
Sending you good vibes from the train back to NYC.
I read over the words twice to make sure I haven’t said something I’ll regret later and hit send. The woosh of my sent text is followed almost immediately by a ping from behind me. I spin to see Jess standing by the row of three wooden seats bolted to the platform.
“From you?” she asks, her gaze locked on mine as she pulls her cell from her purse.
I nod, my tongue cramping into a stress knot at the back of my throat, rendering me incapable of speech.
“Should I read it?” she asks, cocking her head to one side.
I nod, my heart joining my tongue at the back of my throat as she scans the words, taking a deep breath and letting it out before lifting her gaze to mine. “But you aren’t on the train yet.”
I shake my head and croak, “No, but it will be here soon. And I meant that. All of it. I’m so sorry, Jess, I never meant to—”
“Stop,” she whispers, cutting me off with an urgent step forward. For a second, I think she’s going to rush across the few feet still separating us, but she stops as quickly as she started, swaying back and forth on her feet. “Just…stop,” she repeats in a softer voice. “You don’t have to apologize.I’mthe one who should apologize.”
I start to protest but she lifts her hand and says, “Please, let me finish. I’m not good at talking about feelings. I always forget what I want to say or say the wrong thing and I really don’t want to do that this time. I want to get this right.”
“All right,” I say with a nod, preparing myself for the “letting the nice guy who has a crush on me down easy” talk I’ve been dreading since the moment I opened my mouth and all the crazy came out.
“Okay, so…here’s what I think.” She tries to stuff her phone into her back pocket once, twice, three times before she curses beneath her breath and tosses it into her purse. “Another bullshit part of dressing like my mother’s clone—khaki pockets are so stupidly small.” She wipes her now-empty palms on the front of her shirt before propping her hands on her hips with a shaky rush of breath.
If my jaw weren’t a hunk of granite from bracing myself for the killing blow, her obvious nervousness might be funny. But there’s nothing funny about how shitty I feel right now or the fact that I’ve injected more anxiety into Jess’s already craptastic day. More than anything, I want to apologize again and promise her I’ll never put her through this kind of stress again, but she has her stubborn face on. Whatever she’s about to say, she’s determined to say it, and God help the fool who gets between Jessica Cho and something she’s set her sights on.
It’s one of the things I love about her.
The thought makes the rest of my internal organs cringe up into my throat along with my aching heart, making it hard to breathe. This is it—the moment the last of my hope for something more than friendship with this woman dies, once and for all.
“I never had a boyfriend in college,” Jess says, her gaze fixed on something just over my shoulder. “I tried a few times, but it never felt right. Every time we’d get back to my place or his place and start making out, I always felt so awkward. I would be doing things with my mouth and hands, but in reality, I was all up in my head, thinking about how weird it is that people spend so much time and energy trying to find someone to swap spit with. In a world with so many problems to be solved and flavors of cake to be enjoyed and games to be played, why do so many people put dating at the top of their list? I truly didn’t get it.” She pauses, the fingers on one hand coming to pick at the thumb of the other as she visibly forces her focus back to my face. “But when you kiss me…I get it.”
Hope sucker punches me in the gut, clearing the rest of the air from my lungs. I’m still trying to convince them to suck in oxygen as she adds, “When we kiss, I’m not thinking about how weird kissing is or worrying if I’m doing it right. All I think about is how good I feel and how goodyoufeel and how much I…” She breaks off, her throat working as she swallows. “How much I don’t want to stop. How much I…don’t want you to go.”
“Then I’ll stay,” I whisper.
She exhales with a little shake of her head. “I don’t mean New Jersey or my parents’ house, Sam. I mean…the United States. I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” I cut in. “And if you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I can work remotely, and even if I couldn’t…” I lift a shoulder. “I’m one of those people with dating at the top of his list. But only if the person I’m dating is you.”
She sucks in a hiccup-sized breath, her gaze darting over my shoulder again. In the distance, I hear the wail of the train’s horn, but I already know I’m not getting on that train. I’m going where Jess is going, for tonight and the foreseeable future.
“But I don’t deserve you,” Jess says, shaking her head as I step closer. “Seriously, Sam, I should have realized the way you felt a long time ago. My dad did, and I’m pretty sure Mom did, too. But I had no clue. I’m clueless, and not in a cute way. Are you sure you want to get in a romantic type of situation with a woman who can’t tell the difference between friendship and something more until you hold up a huge sign in front of her face?”
I take another step, the boards vibrating beneath my feet as the train approaches the station. “I’m good at making signs—the bigger the better.”
“But you’re normal and I’m not,” she says, raising her voice to be heard over the din.
“Take that back, Cho,” I say, my arm going around her waist, every cell in my body celebrating as her arms come to rest on my chest, molding to my pecs without pushing me away. “I’m not normal. I’m every bit as weird as you are.”
Her lips twitch. “Well, that outfit you wore to my party was pretty odd,” she says, her voice barely audible as the train whooshes up to the platform beside us, brakes squealing.