Chapter 22: Twenty Two

I left Declan’s office, running out, not looking back. My breath was caught in my throat. He did not stop me.

God, what had I done?

Thankfully, I had a class. I rushed to the classroom and sat down. Jacob arrived a few minutes later and sat down a little behind me.

It was sunny. Super annoyingly sunny. The sunlight poured through the windows and was hitting me directly in my face.

Jacob’s text popped up on my phone.

Jacob: Lunch? I found this tiny Italian place near campus and it looks stupid cute.

I said yes before thinking about it. Maybe because I needed a distraction. Maybe because he was warm and easy and didn’t piss me off with his unpredictable actions. Or maybe because I couldn’t stop replaying the moment in Declan’s office.

The anger.

The kiss.

God, the kiss.

And God, his fingers.

“This can’t happen again.” That’s what I had said.

And he didn’t even answer.

After class, we were standing outside a tiny restaurant with a chalkboard sign that said 'homemade gnocchi like your Nonna used to make.' We had driven here on his bike. The place did look stupid cute.

I started toward the doors, but Jacob spotted a florist adjacent to the restaurant.

Without saying anything, he handed a few coins to the old woman running it and picked a small, white flower from a bucket.

He held it out to me with a toothy grin.

“This is for you.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

“Obviously. A date without a flower?”

My heart skipped. I let out a soft laugh and took the flower, twirling it between my fingers. “You’re ridiculous. Is this a date?”

“Girl and a boy. Cute italian place. A flower. What do you think, Wills?”

The place was small. Dainty. Like it was out of Gilmore Girls or something. It had a chalkboard menu, mismatched chairs, red and white checkered tablecloths that looked like we were in the nineteen eighties or something. We sat by the window, sunlight hitting us across the table, menus still folded because Jacob insisted on ordering with instinct.

He ordered cacio e pepe for both of us, a side of cheesy garlic bread, and two iced limonatas. It was charming. All of it. Easy.

He talked the way he always did. Arms waving, lame and stupid jokes spilling from his mouth. Stupid stories about everyone and everything he knew. He had a lightness I envied.

And I laughed. I did. Because Jacob was funny, and warm, and sweet in ways that made you want to lean in and stay.

But the whole time, my mind kept slipping.

To another room.

Another voice.

Another man.

Declan’s hand gripping the edge of his desk.

The way his breath had hitched when I had kissed him.

The way his fingers had felt inside me.

And the look on his face when he had licked my juices off of his fingers.

I almost got turned on again, thinking of him.

“Earth to Willow,” Jacob said, waving a piece of garlic bread in front of my face.

I blinked. “Sorry. I zoned out.”

“You’ve been zoned out for the last ten minutes.”

“Just tired.”

He tilted his head. “From the assignment? Or something else?”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “A lot on my mind.”

“You can make up the grade. Trust me. And if you ask him, Dr. Ashwell might give you something for extra credit.”

“I don’t think so, Jacob.:

He didn’t press. Instead, he sat back and stretched a little, the sleeve of his t shirt riding up to reveal the hint of a tattoo on his bicep.

“I know this is technically our second fake date, after the barbecue, but I think this one counts more.”

I looked up. “Why?”

“Because I bought you a flower. And we’re not surrounded by my entire extended family trying to figure out how I bagged someone way out of my league.”

I smiled, soft and tired. My head was suddenly hurting. “You’re not that below my league.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He called it a date again.

And this time, I didn’t correct him.

I didn’t say it wasn’t. I didn’t stop him when he reached across the table and brushed his fingers against mine.

But as the check came and he insisted on paying, his hand brushing mine just a little too long, I felt a different kind of ache curl in my chest.

Because it should’ve felt like enough.

The sunlight. The laughter. The flower in my hand.

But all I could think about was someone else’s lips on mine.

Someone else’s hands in my hair. And no amount of perfect pasta or pretty flowers could quiet the part of me that still wanted more of what I wasn’t allowed to have.

After we had eaten, Jacob offered to take me home. I almost said no, not because I didn’t want his company, but because I wasn’t sure I could keep faking the lightness I had been till now. But then I looked at him, saw how he was chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was nervous to ask, and I nodded. God, why was he so sweet?

The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable.

We stopped in front of my building. I got off first, and then him. He swung the paper bag of leftovers in his hand. I clutched the single white flower gently, its stem slightly bent now from being pressed between my fingers.

“This was nice,” he said.

“Yeah,” I answered, trying to sound like I meant it without overthinking why it didn’t feel entirely true.

Jacob looked at me for a long second. “I like being around you.”

My stomach turned.

“I know you’ve got… stuff,” he added quickly, eyes scanning mine. “And I’m not trying to push anything. But I just want you to know.” He shook his head, “Well, you know how I feel about you.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Jacob. I always have a nice time with you.”

He nodded, stepped forward like he might kiss me, but stopped himself. He was close enough that I could feel the heat of him, but far enough that it gave me an out.

I didn’t move.

And he didn’t push.

“Okay,” he said, backing off. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “See you.”

He got back on his bike, revving it into movement.

I watched him go.

When I finally made it upstairs, I tossed my bag onto my desk and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall.

That flower lay beside me, soft and stubbornly alive.

I pressed my hands into my eyes and groaned.

It was Cassie, back from university, holding a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in another.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck,” she said cheerfully, flopping onto the bed beside me.

I laid back without answering.

She stared at the flower. “What’s that?”

“A peace offering.”

“From Declan?”

I turned to her, frowning. “No. Jacob.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“He took me to lunch. Italian place. It was… cute.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Cassie sighed and sat up straighter. “Do you want him?”

I sighed. “He’s sweet.”

“And Declan?”

I didn’t answer.

We just sat there in silence for a long time.