Page 6 of I Saw Her First

Silence settles between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. He leans on the railing of the stoop, watching me as he smokes.

“What do you argue about?”

I lift a shoulder. “How much time do you have?” I joke, but it’s not funny. I don’t argue with my folks anymore. Not since I cut off contact with them when I moved to the city years ago.

The stranger grunts a laugh of recognition. His gaze drifts over me, from my messy bun all the way down to the aching, tired feet in my Keds. His eyes spark when they meet mine again.

“I could make the time.”

Whoa.Is he flirting with me?

The minute the thought crosses my mind, heat rises to my cheeks. This is the problem with having a pale, freckled complexion like mine. My emotions are transparent.

He notices, and a grin curls along his lips, but it’s not a mean or mocking grin; rather, it seems like he’s appreciating my reaction.

“Maybe I could take you out sometime,” he adds, offering me a cocky smile.

Okay, so heisflirting with me. More than that, he’s asking me out.

An excuse rises to my lips, but I swallow it back. Wasn’t Ijustthinking that I wanted to get out of my rut? It’s like the universe heard me and intervened.

And he is kind of cute.

I run my gaze across his navy-blue Yankees hoodie and ripped jeans. He carries himself with a casual, confident air, although that could be because of the weed. The smoking would usually put me off, but it feels like everyone in the city smokes weed. I smell it everywhere in Brooklyn. It’s legal, after all, and he’s had a fight with his father, so I can’t blame him for wanting to unwind. Besides, I was about to switch off in front of the TV for the rest of the night because I don’t feel like dealing with my own feelings right now. At the end of the day, these are all simply different methods of accomplishing the same thing: escape.

Again, I think of Weston, the way his gold wedding band glinted under the bright lights of Joe’s this morning, and make a decision. It’s time to break the pattern I’ve been stuck in for way too long.

It’s time to get unstuck.

“Maybe you could,” I reply, and my belly flips when his mouth tugs wider in response. I can’t explain why, but something compels me toward him. I feel like I know him from somewhere.

“Have we met before?”

He cocks his head, studying me as stamps out his joint. “I don’t think so. I’m sure I’d remember you.”

My cheeks warm again at the compliment, but I can’t shake the familiarity of him, the nagging feeling that we’ve crossed paths before.

“I work at Joe’s.” I motion down the street. “Do you go there?”

He gives a slow shake of his head. “Never heard of it. I only moved into the neighborhood today.”

Huh.

“I’m Jesse. Jesse Abbott.”

“Daisy Griffin,” I reply.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to me. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you.” His mouth hitches up on one side into a grin. “After all, it sounds like you had a pretty juicy story to tell me about your folks.”

I scrunch my nose.We will not be talking about that, thank you very much.

He notices and gives an easy laugh. “Right, I get it. How about this—no family stuff. Let’s keep it light and have a good time, yeah?”

“Okay.” I relax, examining his face. I feel like I’ve gazed into those clear blue eyes before, and more than anything, theneed to figure out where I know him from has me entering my number into his phone. He texts me so I have his number too. I stare at the message from him—Are you free tomorrow night?—and my heart gives a little kick of anticipation.

I have a date for the first time in months. Or is it years?

I smile and text him back:Yes.

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