Jenna tilts her head my way. Her large and beautifully brown eyes gleam in the early evening light. I hope she likes it. Her pouty lips are not smiling, but she’s not frowning either. A vertical line creases between her brows. Her expression seems to be saying a million things, none of which I can decipher. While her eyes hold on to mine, she seems to be reaching deep, trying to read me, to figure me out or something. Finally, she brings a hand up, her fingers play with my stubble jaw, and then she leans in.
Shit.
She’s going to kiss me. I can feel it. I can sense it. I calm my breathing, waiting, hoping for her lips to touch my…
Cheek.
Yeah.
Jenna’s lips, sticky from some kind of gloss, land on the left side of my cheek, just above my jawline. Pulling back, her face inches from mine, her lashes flicker as she meets my stare. Her thumb gently rubs over the kiss mark, removing the lip gloss from my face. “Thank you for the album, Logan. I love it.”
Talk, dickhead.
“Oh, no problem.” I breathe out, bringing my arm up to hang over the steering wheel, hoping it makes me seem smooth.
Moron.
Jenna settles back into her seat, clips on her seatbelt, and looks down at the album in her hand.
“I hope you’re hungry because I’m taking you to the best mom and pop shop in Philly.”
She looks up at me and smiles again. That smile alone is going to drive me insane tonight.
Pattie’s is definitely not an upscale, fine restaurant, but if you want a good home cooked style meal, it’s definitely the best spot in town. Besides, it’s also close by the next place I want to take Jenna to, which I’m hoping she’ll like.
I help Jenna out of my truck, slipping my hand into hers as we walk, and we keep it that way. She doesn’t pull away and neither do I. I like it. It just feels right. Hand in hand we step into the overly packed, rowdy, small restaurant. I lean down, my lips touching the curve of her ear. “Sorry, I didn’t expect for it to be crowded on a weeknight. But the food is great. I promise you’ll like it.”
Jenna doesn’t say a word. Her eyes sweep over the small surroundings; she seems to be uncomfortable. Her body slightly shudders, and she leans into me, almost cowering as a way to keep close. Her fingers start working at her lip as fear slowly creeps into her eyes. Lifting my hand, I place my palm along her lower back, and twirl her around so her front is facing mine; I pull her toward me without resistance. In fact, her breathing seems to instantly calm, her shaking stops.
And then it starts to makes sense. The day I saw Jenna by the corner street sign and asked her about coming to the lake house, she mentioned how large crowds make her uncomfortable. And when she did make it to the lake house, she was always apart from everyone, distant, always tucked away, alone. To anyone else, it might appear that we’re just two people getting cozy because of how crowded it is in here. But they wouldn’t know that I’ve just put together another piece of the puzzle that is Jenna McDaniel.
Jenna lifts her eyelids, blinking as she looks up at me. There’s a small understanding between us. No words are spoken; they’re not needed. I can feel her discomfort here, and she can sense that I know. I nod once, lifting my hand to the side of her face and rubbing my thumb along her rosy cheek. “Wanna get out of here?” I whisper. She answers with a small nod. “Okay,” I say. I turn around, take her hand in mine again, and keep her close as we exit the place.
We’re settling back into my truck, and I turn the ignition on. I don’t pull away, though. If she feels this uncomfortable here, there’s no way she’ll like the next place. “I was going to take you to this small indie art show, but I think I purchased the last two tickets, which means there’ll probably be a lot of people there.”
“Oh.” Jenna’s voice is small. She looks away, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Logan. It’s just…I have anxiety around large crowds,” she whispers, bringing her head down, embarrassed.
“I figured.”
“I know it’s weird. I’m sorry.”
I chuckle softly. “It’s not weird, Jenna. Trust me, I know people, and they can be creepy fuckers sometimes. I’d freak out too, but I want to keep this badass act up as long as I can.”
She laughs. Good. “You’re so not a badass. You may look it, but you’re more of the good guy hiding behind the bad boy image.”
“Dammit. And here I thought I had everyone fooled. I need to work harder on this image thing.” I scratch the back of my head, trying to figure out what to do for the rest of the night. “I know this twenty-four hour diner that serves the best potato pancakes you’ll ever have in your life. It’s near my apartment. It’s usually crowded for breakfast or at like two or four in the morning, when drunk asses crave munches. But around this time, it’s usually dead. Wanna go there?”
“Okay.”
Jenna orders the banana French toast and a side of one potato pancake, which I told her was a bad idea because once she tastes it, she’ll want another. I order my usual, the big man breakfast meal, which comes with two of everything: eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, and potato pancakes. Yeah, I’m that hungry. I’ll devour my entire plate and then some.
Like I figured, the diner isn’t too busy. There’s probably a handful of people in the entire place. Jenna and I are seated at a booth in the far back. Though I can tell she feels a bit more comfortable, I still find her looking around. She’s keeping an eye out for something, but I don’t know what. It’s not weird, just different. Her mind always seems to be preoccupied with other thoughts.
“Is it weird we’re having breakfast for dinner?” she asks.
“Nope. Best time to have it, if you ask me,” I say, drowning my pancakes in syrup.
A slight moan escapes those pretty lips of hers when she takes her first bite of the French toast. “You’re right. Best time to have it. I’ve never had breakfast at any other time, never for anything other than breakfast.”
“Well, I like to break the rules sometimes. You know, to keep that bad boy image alive and stuff.”
Jenna leans back in the booth, patting her belly. “I’m stuffed.”
“You barely ate,” I point out.
“I ate half of it. Sorry I can’t clean off my plate like you.” She giggles. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“No problem. It’s my pleasure, really.”