Page 69 of Cherry Picked
We are, I thought fiercely.We really are.
And if Jack and I lived in a movie or one of myPride and Prejudicevariations, this might have been the final scene, the fade to black before the credits rolled, the giant “The End” at the bottom of the page…
But real life wasn’t quite that convenient.
ChapterFifteen
JACK
“We are all fools in love.” ~ Charlotte Lucas
Making love to Hawk Sunday was the best decision I’d ever made.
Nothing had changed, but everything had.
As I stood at the back of the kitchen at Panini Jack’s a full week later, ostensibly mixing up a batch of sourdough but in reality playing a video montage in my mind of Hawk’s smile, his little sighs, and the way his brown eyes remained soft and dreamy for long moments after I kissed him that first night we were together, I felt… settled. Secure in a way I hadn’t expected to.
I feltgood.
So good that it hardly mattered that Hawk and I had been like ships in the night this week, with Hawk spending most of his time up on Fogg Peak continuing his protest campout and me trying to keep up with the influx of Evola contractors and protest-tourists invading the town.
So good that when Crys had caught me singing “I’m Only Me When I’m With You,” one of Hawk’s favorite Taylor Swift songs, while I cooked earlier this morning, I’d laughed along with her teasing.
So good that even though Hawk and I still had a few things to sort out—namely, our conflicting opinions about the resort; my conflicting desires to take things slow for his sake and to have him officially move into my houseyesterday; and one giant, bearded human conflict who hadn’t answered my text earlier this week and would probably be showing up to the diner soon to challenge me to a duel over his brother’s virtue—I could safely say that I was a relationship convert, and I was proud of myself for overcoming my fear so we could get to this place.
And that was, of course, when things started to get weird.
“Tom.” Marla, one of my part-time waitresses, sidled up to my line cook, eyes brimming with excitement. “Guess who’s got a date tonight.”
Tom sucked his front tooth thoughtfully. “Better not be you, baby. I know you’re angry I made that comment about your sister, but cheating is cheating.”
“Hush. Notme.” Marla slapped Tom’s arm playfully. “I mean the Hollow’s favorite romance-reading, mountain-saving activist. Hawk Sunday,” she explained when Tom continued to look at her blankly. “He’s got a date with Simon from Evola. Enemies to lovers, just like in one of his boo—what do you meanshush? I heard from…”
Tom whispered something urgent that made her dart a guilty look in my direction. “Ohhh. Wait, really? I mean. Ha. Can youbelievethe gossip in this town!” Marla said loudly. “And it’s usuallysuperwrong.” She coughed. “I’m just gonna go do… things. Work things. Out there.” She motioned back toward the dining room. “Okay, then.”
“It’s a business dinner,” I told Tom. “Not a date.”
“Sure, boss. Just a misunderstanding.” Tom gave me a pitying look. “No matter what everyone in town is saying.”
Everyone in town? “Don’t be silly,” I said, not sure if I was talking to him or myself. “Hawk and I are together. Everyone saw us at Pye Day.”
“Well, yeah, but Hawk’s still protesting, and you’re stillnotprotesting,” Tom said reasonably. “And Hawk’s only been back to work once since he, you know, gave his cherry speech and not at all since you two were holding hands that day. And Hawk and Simon are awful friendly. Makes sense how people would get confused, no?”
I scowled.No, it definitely did not. But I felt like arguing only made my case look weaker, so I clamped my lips together and mixed up a second batch of bread dough to keep myself from dwelling on this.
But after a third person mentioned Hawk’s meeting in front of me—Milton Perry, that time, joking about how my “new beau” was “already stepping out on ya, eh, Jack?”—I could no longer deny that I was dwelling. I was dwellinghard.
It was not a date. Hawk and I had exchangedI love yous. We were together in every possible way: signed, sealed, and devirginated.
Even though he’d spent most of the week on the mountain, we’d managed to spend two of those nights together: one, where we’d been way too exhausted to do anything but make out, slow and lazy, before falling asleep in my bed, and another where I’d snuck up the mountain to join him in his tent… only to find that a whole herd of Mini Nature Scouts and their parents had shown up to pitch their own tents and join in the protest, giving us zero privacy to revisit our last sleeping bag adventure.
And maybe those hadn’t been particularly fulfilling, but that was okay because Hawk and I had called and texted constantly, too—even more than usual. He’d ended every text conversation with a bat emoji, because the northern long-eared bat had become our symbol for delayed gratification, and it was a known fact that couples didn’t have inside-joke emojis unless their relationship was in a good, solid place.
So, I was not going to descend into jealousy over this foolishness… But I mixed up athirdbatch of bread dough anyway and began kneading it a little too firmly.
Okay, fine, so I was a tiny bit jealous, but only because irrational feelings were irrational and this was my very first foray into a serious relationship. What I was not going to do was make my irrational reaction Hawk’s problem.
I wasn’t going to tell him what people around town were saying or speculate about how they’d even heard that this “date” with Simon would be happening.Nope.
