Richard shrugged, then placed both hands in his pockets. “Whatever it is, keep it up. It’s oozing from your skin.”
When he got back to his office, it was nearly noon. The sun hung in a clear blue sky, and he sighed. He had literally never gazed out his window for longer than a few seconds, and when he did, he was ruminating about some business deal or a kerfuffle with his family. But the sun seemed brighter, the sky bluer, vibrating like a neon glow.
Richard was right. Casey was doing it to him, and damn, he never wanted it to stop.
Before he started his lunch, he decided he would text her. She was likely going on her break soon at the dry cleaners, but he still didn’t want to seem too clingy. A phone call looked a little desperate.
Hello, gorgeous,he wrote.What are you up to tonight?
Jake palmed his phone down and retrieved his lunch from the fridge with a bottle of water. He found himself obsessively gazing down at the phone, his heart beating rapidly at the thought of her replying back.
After an hour, he thought perhaps her break was later on. He tried not to overthink it, getting back to work and making a few important phone calls. But when he saw that phone light up, it might as well have been a beacon in a dark night.
Sorry, hun, the text read.Hectic day at work. I had two people call in sick! Wtf is that about?
Jake smiled, but he hated the idea of Casey being stressed, even for a millisecond. He had the urge to tell her to wait for him after work so he could pick her up, sweep her off her feet and take her to a weekend spa. But he hesitated, letting his thumb hover over the words, and was thankful when she informed him that she already had plans that night.
I’m going to a friend's poetry slam, she said with a wink.You can come if you want, but don’t feel obligated.
Jake knew that poetry, of course, was something artsy and not really his scene. That was for his parents and Scott. A part of him felt self-conscious being there, the same way he did before going to the art gallery. But that had turned out wonderfully once they both admitted their ignorance. Maybe the slam would be the same.
I would love to join you, he replied back.Where should we meet?
Jake was used to working deep into the night at his office, but that night, he left just after five like everyone else. He was given strange looks and even a pat on the back from a few men who worked for him.
They must have been seeing a change in him, and he thought perhaps that was good.
Jake met up with Casey at a coffee shop so they could walk to the poetry slam together. He found her standing there when he parked his car in the lot. She wore a whimsical summer dress that was red and yellow with patterns of little monkeys and other jungle-themed imagery. He was grinning ear to ear as he approached her, her lovely hair blowing in the wind.
“Good evening, beautiful,” he whispered.
Casey had been looking down at her phone as he approached and hadn’t noticed him until he spoke. When she looked up, she beamed at him. Her lips were painted a lovely shade of light red to match her dress.
“You make me blush!” she exclaimed.
Casey pulled his head down to hers and kissed him without hesitation. Jake felt like he was going to melt into her arms and end up as a puddle by the end of the night.
What the hell is going on with me?
When they parted, he continued to crave her, but he didn’t want to ruin their plans for the night. His heart fluttered when she slipped her hand into his, and they headed in the direction of the slam.
Jake asked her about her day, and she spoke about the irritating customers, the two employees who both got the flu, and the hard work that actually goes into a dry cleaner’s repertoire. He listened attentively as the sun started to go down on the city, hanging on her every word.
Once again, he was tempted to heal all her pain. But he was still afraid to seem like a knight in shining armor who merely threw money at problems rather than validating them. So he nodded, making sure she knew how important her concerns were.
“That sounds really frustrating,” he said.
“It really is,” she replied, breathing out rapidly through her lips. “Anyway, how was your day? And are you sure you’re okay with listening to some modern poetry with me?”
Jake held on tightly to her hand as they crossed over the big business section of the city and into the bohemian side, where independents and culture still existed and thrived. He felt a bit self-conscious in his suit but was assured by having Casey there, hanging off his arm.
He raised an eyebrow at her as he walked. “My brother is actually a poetry slam celebrity of sorts,” Jake said.
Casey opened her mouth, astonished, as she lightly tapped Jake’s shoulder. “Really?” she said. “What’s his name?”
“Scott,” Jake responded. “Scott Gillespie.”
Shame reentered Jake’s body, and Casey took notice. She leaned into his arm with her head, the scent of her hair traveling into Jake’s nostrils and making him calm.