“Tell me about your parents.”
Anyone else might be taken aback at rapid-fire personal questions on what is supposed to be a first date. Or pre-date. Whatever this is. But not Alex. He smiles.
Besides, we’ve known each other for months, at least, at work. If he thinks I’m being strange or forward, he doesn’t say so. He’s the epitome of easygoing. Even when he’s being Mr. Big Shot CEO of his own company and giving orders, he’s calm and steady and self-assured.
“There isn’t much to tell.” He grabs one of the fries from my basket and pops it into his mouth.
I cover my remaining food with a protective hand. “Hey, grabby hands, I thought you weren’t hungry.”
“I’m not.” His fingers feint to one side, I move to block him, but quick and nimble, he darts to the other side, snatching one from under my hand.
I laugh. “You’re fast.”
Tonight we came to WesBurger N’ More, an old-timey diner on Mission with bright orange vinyl seats, excellent milkshakes, and a juke box playing Elvis in the back.
I made a point to avoid anything garlicky, and I even brought gum just in case. Maybe if I get him to drop me off again and then make out with him in his car, I can turn him on enough to convince him to come upstairs with me. It’s worth a shot.
“Tell me about your parents. ‘Not much to tell’ is probably a good thing.”
“It is. I have a lot to be grateful for.” He rubs the back of his head and gives me a sheepish smile. “I sort of won the parent lottery. My parents are kind, supportive, still together, totally in love. They married right out of high school, but they’re also best friends, you know?”
“Sure.” I don’t know, but it sounds nice.
“When I was sick, they were great. Protective and loving. Basically, they’re boring as hell. Tell me about your parents.”
“Oh, um.” I fiddle with the napkin in my lap, wiping my fingers on it. “Yeah, well, my parents are still together too, but I’m not sure if they’re in love with each other or just find their partnership too efficient to change.”
His head tilts, eyes considering. “That sounds . . . serious.”
My laugh is brittle. “Serious is a good word to use. They’re very serious. Very successful.”
“What do they do?”
“My mom is a plasma physicist. She consults for NASA. My dad is a professor at Princeton.”
He sits back. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow.” I manage to restrain my eye roll, but just barely. Not at Alex’s reaction, but at the fact that my parents are genius-level smart and . . . “And I just got fired from my job as a junior marketer,” I mutter.
“Student marketer.” He leans in.
I laugh, this time with more warmth. “Yeah. My parents are geniuses and I can’t even make it as an entry-level ‘student.’ ” I cringe. Ugh. Why does he like me again?
He shrugs. “Maybe you were in the wrong field.”
“Maybe.” There is no field for me. I need the field where I can stay alone at home all day and avoid the rest of humanity. My field is introverted recluse. Anyone hiring?
“You told me about applying for work in theater when you first moved here. What about that?”
I shake my head. “That’s not a career, it’s a hobby.”
“Says who? I was told playing games was a hobby and look at me now.” He lifts his arms, as if showing off all of his scruffy glory.
“Yeah, you look like a million bucks. Is that a curry stain under your armpit?”
He laughs and drops his arms, putting his elbows on the table. “It could be. So, your parents. They are basically geniuses.”
I nod and grimace. “Even better, overachieving geniuses.”
His eyes are warm on mine. Understanding. “That’s a lot to live up to.”
I snort. “Tell me about it. They expected everything from me and Eloise. Even as children, we were expected to behave like mini-adults. No mistakes allowed.”
He frowns. “Mistakes are how you learn.”
I nod. “Oh, don’t worry, I made mistakes. I was an eternal disappointment.”
“And Eloise is, who, your sister?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you ever mentioned you had a sister.” His head tilts. “Eloise. Eloise Stewart.” His expression clears. A light bulb goes off over his head. “Wait, the actress?”
“Yep.” I lean back a little, my hands moving to my lap to squeeze each other under the safety of the table. “My little sister.”
“Wow. That’s . . . cool?”
I wince.
He laughs. “I mean, I guess maybe not.”
I look up from my lap and meet his curious gaze. “She’s great. She’s perfect. Smart, like our parents. She’s taking a break from Hollywood right now to go to Stanford, did you know?”
“No. So she lives nearby then?”
“Yeah. In Palo Alto.” I sigh. “She’s brilliant and gorgeous and meets every expectation, and I’m just . . . I’m just Jane.” I put my napkin on my plate and take one last sip of water before we slide out of the booth to leave.
Which is really the brunt of the problem between Eloise and me. We’ve been growing apart ever since we came out west together. She moved to Hollywood and went big time and I went . . . nowhere. I try not to think about Eloise. I don’t want to admit how much I miss her. She was my best friend our whole lives, but it’s been a few years since I’ve felt like I could truly confide in her. Where did we go so wrong?
Alex follows me outside and we walk up the street, back toward the Saloon.
“You’re not just Jane. You’re smart and kind and beautiful. You don’t need a degree or fame to be of value. We are not our accomplishments.”
“Says the really accomplished guy who founded his own company and will probably be a billionaire by this time next year.”
“Ha.” He waves a hand. “That’s what I’ve done, it’s not who I am. It’s not necessarily all yachts and parties and people fawning all over me all day long.” He rubs his chin. “According to my parents, I work too hard. And unlike you, I don’t have any siblings to distract them from my life.”
“They’re very involved?” My parents are overly involved. I mean, they were. It’s strange that it’s been months since I talked to them, at least for me. The last time I heard from them, I ignored Mom’s call and she left a detailed message offering well-meaning “suggestions” for my meeting.
“Oh yeah. I’m sure they’re still traumatized from when I was sick but,” he shrugs, “they do their best to be present and not oppressive. They call me weekly and visit over the holidays, and I visit whenever I can. Most of their calls lately are demands for me to take time off work. Do something, anything, other than work. They bought me tickets for a tourist bus, one of those double-decker things. I still have them in the glove box of my car, where they’ve been for the past six months. They’re going to expire if I don’t use them soon.”
I smile. Eloise and I did that tour when we first moved here. Before things got weird.
“Hey, Pickle Juice!”
We both turn in the direction of Leon’s shout.
“I really need to hear that naked lightsaber story,” I mutter.
The car honks at Leon, dividing Alex’s attention between his friend and me, his brows furrowed.
“How did you know about the naked lightsabers?”
Oops. “Um, I think you mentioned it earlier.”
His head shakes slowly, eyes narrowing on my lying liar face. “No, no, I’m sure I didn’t.”
“We got another gig booked next month.” Saved by Leon, who slings an arm around Alex’s shoulders.
Alex groans, temporarily distracted. “We might not survive till then since you don’t know how to look both ways before crossing the road.”
Leon waves it off. “People don’t know how to drive.”
“I might prefer death to another performance.”
Leon rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic. Things will pick up, my man. You’ll be there next month?” Leon points at me.
“Sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Leon grins.
“Leon!” Cue the blonde in the doorway of the Saloon.
Leon waves at her and then tosses me the dimpled grin. “My fan group awaits.”
Alex shakes his head. “Our fan group is your sister. And her two friends.”
Leon points at Alex. “Still better than none. Nice to meet you finally, Jane,” he calls out as he jogs back across the street.
I turn back to Alex, hoping he has now forgotten about my naked lightsaber slipup.
“Can I give you a ride home?”
Phew.
“Yes. Please.”
This time when he’s idling in front of my building, I don’t waste time.
“Thank you for the ride.” I sway in his direction, my eyes glued to his lips.
“You’re welcome.” He takes the hint and inches closer to me and then his lips are on mine.
Even though it’s not the first time, the magic is still there. Better than any magical closet. His fingers thread into my hair, angling my head. His tongue slides against mine. I groan, nipping at his bottom lip.
I slide closer on the bench seat, as close as I can get without crawling into his lap, although that is looking more and more like a viable option.
He breaks away. “Wow.” He’s breathing hard, air sawing in and out between us.
Heat fills me. I need him. “Do you want to come upstairs?”
His mouth pops open, but his eyes are hot and his gaze is heavy on mine. “I do.”
My heart leaps. Yes!
His head shakes slowly, eyes on mine, hot and drowsy with need, and yet he shuts them with a heavy exhale. “But I shouldn’t. This is too important.” His thumb trails over my bottom lip. “Damn.” He pulls back. “You should go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
I strangle back a groan of frustration. “Right. Tomorrow.”
“What are your faults? Do you have any?”
He lets out a bark of surprised laughter. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” He twists to meet my eyes as we walk down Columbus Avenue, in the direction of the Saloon, after eating dinner again. I’m starting to discover his likes and dislikes based on how often he steals my food from my plate. Maybe that’s a flaw in and of itself, but I enjoy the intimacy of it.
“No, it’s just that there’s, like, nothing wrong with you. It’s sort of disturbing. You have to tell me something bad.”
“Let’s see.” He rubs his hands together. “I have terrible morning breath.”
I huff. “That’s not a flaw. Everyone has morning breath.”
“I smell when I sweat.”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s move on from normal human functioning to the good stuff. And by good stuff, I mean bad stuff. Are you a loud chewer? Do you have a third nipple? Maybe an extra toe? Oh, I know, you’re a compulsive liar and megalomaniac.”
“You caught me.” He stops, hand to his chest. “I’m a multiple-appendages-having egomaniac with an aversion for truth.”
“Now see, you go and say stuff like that and I can’t hold any of it against you.”
He laughs and then taps my shoulder. “Okay. I’ve got one. A real one. I can get, uh,” he winces and shoves his hands in his pockets, “a little obsessive sometimes.”
“Uh-oh. Is this going to turn into one of those things where you follow me around, clone my cell to track all my calls, and lock my ex in a book vault?”
His grin is blinding. “Of course not. If I cloned your cell, I wouldn’t need to follow you around.”
We both laugh, and then he grabs my hand, twining my fingers with his.
My insides melt.
“I don’t stalk people. But I do obsess over work. It started with games though, when I was a teenager, and then led to app design. Silly, mindless games were something to focus on other than my illness. I still fall back into obsessive patterns sometimes. Leon is forever pulling me from the brink. When I get really involved in a project, I don’t take breaks. I don’t sleep, I forget to eat. I missed a couple of gigs and Leon almost murdered me.”
“I can understand. I mean, I get into a single-minded focus too.” Like when all I cared about was getting my pitch just right. Or getting Alex to kiss me each night, to the exclusion of everything else. And now all I can think about is getting Alex naked.
How can I get him to come up to my apartment? Maybe I can lure him in with the promise of something other than my smokin’ hot bod, because clearly, that’s not enough of an enticement.
“Hey, Pickle Juice!”
This again.
Leon almost gets hit by the car, again. They banter, Leon is called away, and wait for it . . .
“Can I give you a ride home?”
“Yes.”
After he parks in front of my apartment, he kisses me good night. Like every time, my body becomes liquid heat. Lust permeates the air and penetrates my bones. I get so worked up I might detonate out of existence.
“Please come upstairs?”
He rests his forehead against mine. Then he sighs. “No, I better not. This is too important.” Sweet words. A light fingertip over my bottom lip. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Right, sure. Tomorrow.” Can he hear my teeth grinding?
“Do you want to come back to my place for some coffee? Tea? Water?”
I’m trying a new tactic. Asking him over before we’re sitting in front of my apartment. It’s a long shot, but I don’t know what else to do short of crying and yelling and begging, and none of that screams “sex me up.”
We’re walking up the street toward the Saloon. Again. I have little faith this will work. Alex cares too much about our future to risk it by moving too quickly. I know. I’ve heard it. Over and over and over.
But since my future doesn’t exist, I’m not giving up. Not yet. Maybe if I ask at different points of the night, I’ll get lucky—both literally and figuratively.
“Not tonight. Maybe another time.”
Frustration is a volcano inside me about to blow the top right off my head. “What if we don’t have another time?”
His hands are warm on my shoulders, his expression regretful. “What we have is too important. We don’t need to rush things.”
I groan. “You say that every time.”
He straightens, blinking in confusion. “Every time?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.” I pull away from his distracting hands.
“Jane. It’s clearly something. Tell me.”
“No. It’s not. It’s . . .”
I turn away, arms wrapped around my stomach. What if I tell him the truth? I haven’t tried that yet. If I can get him to believe me, maybe then he’ll, I don’t know, at least stay the night.
My heart pounds, picking up speed as I consider the ramifications.
He’ll probably think I’m lying at best. At worst, he’ll think I’ve lost my grip on reality. But what if he’s the key to getting the days to move on? To finding love?
I spin back to face him. “You’re going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
“Jane.” His eyes search mine. “You’re worrying me. What is going on?”
Before I can overthink it, I blurt the words out. “I’m reliving the same day. This day. Monday, June seventh. Over and over and over.”
He stares at me for a few seconds. Then his brows dip in confusion. “What?” A bewildered laugh tumbles out of him.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. I’ve lived through, oh gosh, I don’t even know, a hundred of this same Monday.”
He shoves one hand in a pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck. “I, um, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” I sigh. I’m flushed, face on fire. Embarrassment envelops me in its sweaty embrace. “Look, I can prove it. Leon is going to come out of the bar in about ten seconds. He’s going to call you Pickle Juice, then he’s going to cross the street and nearly get hit by a car. He’s going to tell you he booked another gig next month.”
He’s silent for a second, processing. “I don’t think—”
“Hey, Pickle Juice!” Leon jogs out of the bar. The car honks.
He throws his arm around Alex’s shoulders. “We got another gig booked next month.”
Alex stares at him, mouth open. Then his eyes flash to mine.
I shrug.
Silence descends.
“What’s going on?” Leon asks.
Alex coughs. “Nothing. Uh, are you . . . okay? Because of the,” he gestures at the road, “car?”
Alex has never been this discombobulated. Did I break him?
He blinks rapidly, his eyes moving from Leon to the ground back to me. He frowns.
Yep. I broke him.
Leon waves it off. “People don’t know how to drive.”
Alex nods, distracted.
“Okay, well,” Leon glances back and forth between us, from Alex’s befuddled face to my sheepish one, his brows lifting. “I’ll just leave you two alone. Nice to finally meet you, Jane.”
“You too,” I call as he jogs back across the road.
Alex faces me. He regards me in silence for a long moment.
I twist my hands together. My heart is beating so loud, it can probably be heard down the block.
Wait. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
Shock slips in as I wait for Alex’s reaction. I haven’t really been anxious in a long time. Not like before. How did I not notice?
I don’t have time to linger on the realization because he starts talking.
“Okay. My rational mind doesn’t think a time loop is possible, but I also can’t figure out how you knew Leon was going to say all of that or how that car was going to come around the corner at that precise moment. I would think you were playing some kind of prank, with Leon’s cooperation, because this is absolutely something he would set up, but I also know you don’t know Leon and wouldn’t have had the time to arrange it all so perfectly. So . . .”
I wait for the gears churning in his mind, analyzing every possible conclusion.
It takes a while. “If you’re not sure, I have more,” I offer.
His brows lift. Then he nods.
“You told me about naked lightsabers.”
He releases a bark of surprised laughter.
“Okay, so no specific details, you were both very close-lipped about it, but I know it was a thing. You’ve also told me about how you obsess over work because of your sickness. Leon has to force you to take breaks. Your parents gave you tour bus tickets, and they’re about to expire.” I blow out a breath. “You always steal my fries when we go to dinner. You’re one of the most considerate people I know. And you’re a really good kisser.”
A smile flashes across his face.
I step toward him. He keeps his hands in his pockets, but he doesn’t back away.
That’s a good sign. Isn’t it?
“Alex, I know it sounds totally bananas, but it’s true. I’m not a stalker. I swear, I know all of this because you told me.”
He is silent for a minute, eyes searching mine.
My nerves start jittering again. He’s going to tell me to eff off, or take me to a hospital. But my nerves don’t explode into panic, because I know if he does, it won’t matter tomorrow. I hang on to that, the only truth I know. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up in bed and he won’t remember any of this. No matter how terrible this moment is right now, it’s not forever.
What used to be a curse is now a lifeline.
Finally, he nods. “If you’re going through this, then I believe you.”
Relief makes me sag; I didn’t realize how tense I was until he spoke. “You do?”
“Yes.”
I swallow, breath whooshing out of me in a relieved rush. “I really thought I would have to convince you more. Or you’d run away screaming. Or take me to the hospital for a CT scan. Which I’ve already done, by the way.”
He chuckles a little. “I have to admit it sounds incredibly farfetched, and I would like to come up with a more logical reason you could know all of that. But I’d prefer to take you at your word.”
“Really?”
“I try to believe what people tell me as they see it, not how I think they should.” He shrugs. “That’s where true understanding comes from.”
Oh, Alex. It would be so easy to love him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my fingers to the middle of my forehead. “I wouldn’t believe me.” I spread my arms out before flopping them down to my sides. “The screwed-up part is that it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Tomorrow will be Monday, again, and you won’t remember any of it. That’s why . . . that’s one of the reasons I want you to come back to my place with me. Or I can go to your place. Either way. I just, it’s hard to understand, but I need to make something different.”
His brow creases. “So you think if we spend the night together that will change something? Like having sex will get you out of this . . . time loop?”
“No.” I wave a hand. “Of course not.”
But even as the words trip out of my mouth, they come right back and slap me in the face. I’m lying. It’s exactly what I think, and it wasn’t until he spelled it out that I recognized I’ve been holding on to that hope.
But it’s not true. Sex isn’t going to solve anything, except maybe I won’t be so damn horny for Alex all the time. My gut knows it, instinct telling me a truth I didn’t want to accept.
His brows lift, waiting for me to pull myself together.
“Okay, yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe if you just stay with me until morning? No, you know,” I wave a hand, “penetration involved?”
He laughs. “Have you tried staying up all night? On your own, or with anyone else?”
“I have, by myself. It doesn’t work.” I blow out a breath. “I’ve also tried sleeping in my closet. Nothing works. If I stay awake, I black out and it’s not a fun feeling, and then I wake up on the seventh again. You’re the . . . you’re the first person I’ve told. Except a weird teenager and I didn’t invite her over.”
“In your closet?”
I shrug. “The closet is magic.”
His brow furrows. “Uh . . .”
I’m making this worse.
I shake my head. “It’s too much to explain. Just trust me, staying up doesn’t work.”
But another thought knocks me upside the head. What if Alex does stay the night and then he gets stuck in the loop with me? That’s not fair to him. The truth is, I don’t know what will happen either way, and I can’t put this on someone else.
He can’t save me. I have to save myself. It’s always been about me.
“Hmm.” He rubs his chin. “So it’s likely that even if I do stay the night with you, you’ll just black out and I’ll end up back home like God hit a giant reset button.”
I shrug. “Anything is possible at this point.”
He nods, thoughtful.
I move closer. “The thing is, I like you. You like me. And for me, we’ve been dating and kissing a lot. This isn’t the first night we talked and spent time together.” I step into him. “It’s not the first time I’ve figured out that you like it when I bite you a little, right here.” I lean in. His hands lift to my shoulders, squeezing gently when I move closer and press my lips against the corner where his neck meets his shoulder.
He shivers. “Jane.” My name is a breath hissed between his teeth.
I pull back, our eyes lock, and then we’re kissing. And again, the fireworks erupt and I want nothing more than to crawl inside of him and live there forever.
Eventually he steps back far enough to meet my eyes.
I can predict what’s coming next.
“I like you. I believe you. But Jane, I’m still not going home with you.” He blows out a breath.
“I know.”
I shouldn’t have put that kind of pressure on him anyway. He can’t make time move forward. Sleeping with him won’t “fix” me. Am I using Alex in order to give myself a better sense of control?
Shame spreads through me, heating my cheeks.
Alex isn’t the one who can give me happiness, like it’s a gift to be obtained. I can’t control him, and I shouldn’t want to. If I ever get out of this blasted day and we go on a date or four, and actually sleep together, he could wake up months from now and decide he’s not into me. If I put all responsibility for my happiness onto him, that’s . . . ridiculous.
What did the psychic say? It has to come from inside.
Such an impossibility. But I have to try. Right?
I’m no better than Mark if I’m using Alex as my means of escape.
I need a break.
I take a deep breath and step back. “You mean a lot to me, Alex. Which is why I probably won’t see you for a while.”
He moves toward me. “Jane—”
“It’s okay.” I hold up a hand, letting my eyes trace over his features. “You won’t notice. I’ve got to go.”
So this is what it feels like.
To break my own heart.