Page 47 of Crave

I let myself remember the humiliation I suffered just one week ago at the hands of this man. Despite telling Tash it wasn’t a date, I hoped that it would be. Instead of being cautious, I told myself I was going to be spontaneous for once in my life, only to be made a fool of by someone I was willing to give a chance. It’s that humiliation that causes me to pull my hand from underneath his.

“No, Jacob.” I reach over and grab the menu from the table, opening it up with more force than necessary. “There can never be anything between us, okay? I can never be serious with a man like you.”

“A man like me?” he rudely interrupts.

“Yes, a man like you. I want to be with a black man, preferably someone from the Caribbean, and you don’t check either box. Thank you for reminding me of that. Whatever we were going to have was going to be for fun, but I got the opposite of fun with you? Do you know why? Because you’re crazier than a loon, you have more baggage than American Airlines.” I pretend to read the menu as I wait for him to leave, refusing to give in to the guilt I’m already feeling at my words. Again, he pulls the menu from my hands.

“Look at me in the face and say that to me again.”

Having reached my breaking point, I flare my nostrils out and look in his face. His eyes have darkened as he waits for me to speak.

“You heard me the first time. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“Because it’s a fucking lie. I expected better from you, Sandra. Enjoy your date. I hope he’s everything you want.” He gets up from his chair and walks away without a backwards glance.

The only thing I should be feeling right now is rage. Rage at Jacob Clark for once again fucking up my plans. Rage at his entitled attitude. Rage for the embarrassment he caused, but instead, I’m feeling shame. I didn’t mean a word of it, but he made me so angry, I had no choice but to lash out. In the short time I’ve known him, he’s occupied too much of my thoughts. I’ve had too many conflicting emotions over that man, so it’s best to part ways, but I hate how I ended things.

He’s the one who has played games with me. He’s the one who has messed with my head, so why am I the one who feels bad? I wouldn’t have said it if he’d left me alone.

For the hundredth time during this short drive home, I check my phone. Nothing.

He’s been texting all damn week, but now he chooses to go silent? I lay my forehead on the steering wheel while stopped at a red light, thinking about what to do next. Should I even do anything?

The man has done nothing but cause trouble since the first night I met him. We are completely wrong for each other. He clearly has issues with boundaries, and I’m not looking to add melodrama into my life. And the embarrassment I suffered at his hands last week still stings. And he ruined another night tonight. The minute he walked into my house, I knew how the evening with David was going to end. With us hugging awkwardly in the parking lot before getting into our separate cars. We didn’t even bother with pretending that we were going to call each other.

I shouldn’t feel guilty. I should be relieved that he’s out of my hair. Even though we probably live less than ten miles apart, there is never any reason why we would ever run into each other. That’s another reason why things between us never would have worked out. We come from separate worlds. I’m the daughter of a single mother who worked at a nursing home before starting her own business.

He’s the son of a wealthy business owner. He runs the business with his father and will likely take over one day. What the hell would he want with someone like me? Nothing. Not for anything long term. This is for the best.

I should be pleased with myself. I should.

If I tell myself that long enough, maybe I will start to feel it.

The sound of my loud sigh is all I hear as I turn right into my driveway. Not even nine o’clock on a Saturday night. I could go spend the evening with Tash and her family, but as I put my car in park and take the key out of the ignition, I decide to go home, put on some sweats, watch TV, and forget this disastrous day. Hell, I need to forget these disastrous four weeks.

I stop mid-step on the way to my front door when I see movement. I curl my hand around the pepper spray I keep in my pocket and walk towards my front door. Someone steps from the side of the house. I pull the spray out of my pocket but put it back as soon as I see Jake step into my line of vision.

We stand there and just stare at each other, neither one of us uttering a word.

I open my mouth to speak, to offer an apology, but no words come out.

He opens his arms inviting me in, but I don’t move. When I look at his face, he gives me a small encouraging nod. I know if I walk into his arms, there will be no turning back. Jacob Clark will consume me. He’ll never be satisfied with having just a part of me. He’ll want all of me, and whether or not I’ll allow it, he’ll take it all. If I take those few steps, my life will never be the same, but I have no choice.

I don’t walk. I run into his arms, and the instant I do, he wraps them around me. I hug him back as I inhale his cologne, trying to memorize every touch, every smell.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper when the words finally find me. “I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said about you being, uh, about you being—”

“About me being white?”

“Yes. I’m sorry about that, but you’re still a jerk.” I pull myself out of his grasp and look up at him. “You’ve done nothing but play head games with me. You’ve ruined my night and you—”

“Have more baggage than American Airlines?”

“What are you doing here? Making sure you succeeded in ruining my date?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “If you came back here with him, I was going to beat the shit out of him. That’s the truth.”

Hearing him say that brings the rage I should have been feeling all night. I turn to him and pound on his chest. “You’re such a Neanderthal. Is that all you know how to do? Beat the shit out of people? And how dare you, Jacob? You’re the one who technically ended things between us with your actions, and you stand here acting like a jealous hypocrite.” I continue to pound on his chest a few more times before he takes hold of my wrists.

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