Page 28 of Finding Jack
I loved the chaos and constant change of the city, the way millionaires lived next to condemned buildings, and half the walls of both places were covered with spray paint, and sometimes it was graffiti and sometimes it evolved into art.
“Me either,” she said. She rose and stretched. “I’ve had a long day. I’m going to go hit the hay.”
I pointed to the spot in her hair where the straw had made itself at home. “Looks like you already did. What were you up to today?”
She smirked and plucked it from her hair. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked as she dropped it in the trash can.
“I think I really, really wouldn’t. But I’ll tell you what I would like to know. How Sean knows Jack and why he’s on your case to connect me to him. If Jack’s so great, why not hook you two up?”
“This is how I’d know you don’t have a brother even if that was the only thing I’d ever heard you say. Brothers don’t set their sisters up with anyone, ever. And Sean is overprotective.”
“So…Jack’s not good enough for you but he’s good enough for me?”
“No. It’s that Sean still doesn’t think I’m old enough to date.”
“Does he know you’re twenty-seven?”
“No. He still thinks I’m fourteen. But he knows you’re thirty-one, and he knows I think you’re all right, and that’s good enough for him.”
“You think I’m all right? Aw, you love me.”
“You’re fine. Good enough for Jack.”
We’d been joking again until she said that. My eyebrows went up. What an interesting way for her to put it. “It’s your job as my friend to make sure he’s good enough for me, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “Jack’s a special case. You should get to know him.”
“I kind of have been,” I admitted finally and waited for the interrogation to start.
“Well, well, well,” she said, but softly, and with a smile she slipped into her bedroom and shut the door.
Chapter 12
JACK DOBSON HAS SENT YOU A FRIEND REQUEST.
It didn’t show up in my notifications in all caps. But it felt like an all caps kind of announcement.
I was about to click accept, but the tingle of anticipation that swept up from my stomach stopped me. I set my phone down and turned to stare out of my office window. The bail bondsman billboard showed a suave-looking dude trying to guarantee me a bail bond, but it was old and peeling. Part of the paper with his right eye printed on it had come loose and it fluttered, turning him from a one-eyed pirate to a James Bond wannabe and back to a pirate again.
I should not be so excited to see Jack’s friend request in my inbox. I should only feel a pleasant little ripple of recognition, like, “Oh, that Jack guy sent me a friend request.”
This was not a big deal. So why was I staring at my phone and experiencing an existential crisis about whether to pick it up and press “Accept”?
It was honestly bizarre. I didn’t have a history of bad romantic relationships. Yeah, my parents had divorced, but I didn’t carry much baggage over it. They were happier apart and got along well enough. I didn’t have a problem committing. Not really.
I mean, maybe a little. But not for any deep reasons, like past trauma. I dated nice guys. Nice, normal, well-adjusted guys. But I never felt that…thing. That thing they showed in romance movies and books where I needed another person as much as I needed to breathe. That thing where time apart felt like years and time together sped by like seconds.
I’d also never felt the electric current that had run up from my center because some guy had sent me a Facebook friend request.
And Jack was just some guy. A funny guy, yeah. But just some guy. Some guy with bad hair and good Photoshopping skills.
Just some guy. Yes. And a friend request was no big deal.
I picked up my phone and accepted it. Less than a minute later, it vibrated with a DM from Jack.
I refused to overthink it and opened my messages.
JACK: Good morning.
