Page 27 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
“Italian hoagies it is.”
* * *
Flynn
“I’ll have the number eight please, with salt and vinegar chips and a small drink,” Jackie declares, bouncing on the toes of her sneakers.
It’s true I’ve never really dated. Never took the time to get to know someone and how we’d fit together. Growing up, it was more like I’d hooked up with people in my social group, and some hookups lasted longer than others. And the only requirements were each other’s family name and net worth. But I would’ve thought that adult dating would at least mean a sit-down restaurant with waiters, not a chalkboard menu with a pimple-faced cashier.
Jackie glances down at the rack of chips before her, missing the way the teenage boy at the counter checks her out. She grabs the bag and turns to me.
“Did you want an Italian hoagie too, or did you see something else you like?”
She says this with a straight face, brow creasing at my answering smirk. I don’t think Jackie does innuendo. But it still makes me smile, because Idosee something else I like— her. I don’t know much about her family, how much she makes, what she’ll inherit, and yet I like her.
“I’ll have a number eight too. Plain chips, large drink,” I tell the teenager, moving closer to Jackie so he can draw the correct conclusion that we’re on a date.
And that is when I know I have it bad, when I feel the need to broadcast the fact I’m on a date to a pubescent teenager with wisps for a mustache.
Jackie digs in her purse for her wallet, but I stop her with my hand.
“I hope you don’t find this forward, but where I grew up, ladies don’t pay on dates.”
Jackie blinks at me as I hand the cashier my card. “This is a date?”
The boy laughs, but he’s nice enough to try and cover it up with a cough. Damn, this girl sure knows how to cut a man down at the knees. “Yes, Jackie. This is a date.” My voice is a bit rougher than I meant it.
“Oh.” She stares at me for a minute before the biggest, sexiest, most beautiful smile lights up her face. “Really?”
All the embarrassment fades in the face of the most clueless genius I’ve ever met. “Yes.” I lean down, brushing my lips across hers, savoring her gasp at the contact. “Really.”
We stare at each other, the moment broken when the cashier thrusts my credit card and our receipt with our order number on it toward me. Looking envious now instead of amused, he motions us to the side counter.
It only takes a minute for our number to be called. Jackie snags the last available booth while I fill up our drinks.
We eat in comfortable silence until I catch two guys across the room checking Jackie out as she licks the salt from the chips off her fingers. When she leans forward to sip her drink, wrapping her full lips around the straw, I know I’m not the only guy in here sporting wood. I chuckle at how oblivious to the attention she seems to be.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, swiping her mouth with a napkin. She glances down at her shirt as if looking for spilled food.
“I was just thinking of something my grandfather used to say.”
She uses her index finger to push up her glasses. “What’s that?”
“He liked to tell my father that he couldn’t see farther than the end of his nose.”
She nods, grabbing another chip from the bag. “Ah, from Pope’sEssay on Man.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“That saying.” She pops the chip in her mouth, chewing softly before continuing. “It derives from Alexander Pope’sEssay on Man.I think the quote is ‘Onward still he goes, Yet ne’er looks forward farther than his nose.’”
I don’t know why her brain continues to surprise me. She told me about her two masters degrees, one in physics, the other in aeronautics and astronautics, which she’d then followed up with a PhD. All before age twenty-nine. But every time she opens her mouth I’m astounded by her knowledge. It’s so fucking sexy.
I try unsuccessfully to adjust myself under the table. “I think Grandpa will be sorely pissed he didn’t come up with it himself, as much as he liked to throw it around.”
Jackie laughs, and the sound soothes the rough edges from my hectic day at the shop. Being with Jackie is calming. No drama, no games. Just Jackie.
“Unless your grandfather was around in the early seventeen hundreds, I don’t think he can take credit.” She smiles, reaching for another chip. “You’ll have to let him down easy next time he says it.”
