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Paige
***
His green eyes are like a meadow in the springtime. The way his hair is slicked to the side, and the way his goatee has just been neatly trimmed reminds me of one of those cover models from my favorite romance novels. God, I spend way too much time analyzing the covers on the books I read. But I can’t help it. So many of them remind me of Jackson. Usually, when I’m reading, I pretend he and I are the protagonists. Is that weird? God, I’m fucking pathetic. I need to get laid, and if it’s not going to be with him–which it obviously isn’t because he has made it clear that he sees me as just a friend–then I need to find someone else.
But I don’t want anyone else.
I want Jackson Fierce.
I frown to myself and avert my eyes from him to the screen in front of me.
Court this morning had been interesting, to say the least. Not about the case and whatnot, but about the way he makes me feel. Inappropriate thoughts swirled around in my brain from the moment he walked in until the moment we left court. He showed up about twenty minutes after we had spoken on the phone. Fuck, am I ever going to get over the way he looks in a suit? I’ve only seen him in regular clothes a handful of times–including that Saturday morning he had me meet him at the pier for breakfast immediately causing my mind to wander–but every time he’s in his black or dark blue suits, God, my mouth just waters. Well, I hope not literally, anyway. Honestly, I don’t know what I prefer him in. Suits or casual wear? Maybe, naked.
Anyway, we had conversed a bit, gone over the last-minute details for the Martinez case, and then went in like two sharks and BAM! We won. Case closed and time to move on to the next one.
Now, it’s five thirty in the afternoon, and I’m sitting at my desk ogling him as best I can without making it too obvious. It’s nice that from my office I have the perfect view into his. Well, nice and convenient, but not essentially good for work. I’m sure I’d get a lot more done in a day if I weren’t able to see directly into his. Sometimes, I catch him looking over at me, too. Maybe it’s because he can sense I’m watching him? Ugh! I don’t know. I just know that lately I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him... and what he can do with those hands.
God, Paige! At least try to get those thoughts out of your head.
Shit, he’s coming this way. He’s probably going to ask me if I’m all right since I’m constantly looking over at him. Hopefully, he hasn’t noticed. Yeah, right. He’s not a dimwit.
He locks his office door and says good night to his uncle who is walking out, as well. I hear him congratulating his nephew, as he had congratulated me earlier for finally closing the Martinez case. If our receptionist, Jill, was still here, she’d be wishing them both a good night. She’s always quick to greet and bid adieu to everyone in the office. But as soon as five o’clock rolls around, she’s out of here faster than a bat out of hell. She’s a real sweetheart. I like her a lot and think it’s great the firm hired such an amiable person. She’s the first voice our clients hear when they call us and the first person they see when they walk in.
I gaze back at my computer screen and pretend to be typing up a very important email. In reality, I’m retyping the same sentence over and over and over again. I don’t want to make it seem as if I haven’t done a single thing besides stare at him. I may be looking at my screen, but I’ve always got him in the corner of my eye.
As Jackson walks by, he stops right outside the door of my office. He pops his head in and says, “Great day today in court, huh?”
I look up and see his smiling face. Fuck, he always knows just how to melt my panties.
I smile back and swallow hard before responding. “It was a great win. Charles deserved to keep it all.”
He steps inside and my heart stops beating. Shit. Is he about to sit down? Maybe he wants to ask me out to dinner to celebrate? Maybe drinks?
He takes a few steps forward and then back again. Is he nervous about something?
“Well, I just wanted to say good night. I’m going to head out... maybe eat something.” He chuckles. Damn, that sound...
“Yeah,” I say, letting the word hang in the air.
He gives me one last smile before saying, “Good night, Paige. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, Jax.”
***
“GOD, THERE IS NOTHING worthy on TV. Is this how they expect us to spend our evenings? Watching crappy shows or reality garbage? Damn, I refuse to. How are we supposed to bum out on a Friday night?” Margie flashes me a smirk, then continues. “You know what? Fuck it. Who says we have to be losers? Let’s go out and celebrate your win,” she says to me.
I just got home about an hour ago and we’re now sitting on the couch in front of the TV, not really watching a thing. We had picked up some sandwiches for dinner at Quizno’s. It was late by the time the both of us had gotten in from work, and neither one of us felt like cooking.
I shrug. “I really don’t feel like it. I’m kind of beat.”
“Party pooper.”
I laugh. I can’t believe she still uses that phrase we used to say as kids. She’s probably the only one of my friends who does.
“Alright. You need to spill,” she says, adjusting her position on the couch to face me. She looks as if she’s ready to get the latest scoop on the juiciest piece of gossip. Sorry, chica. I have nothing for you.
I furrow my brows. “Spill what?”
She throws her arms up in exasperation. I want to laugh again because she’s being such a damn drama queen. “Aww, c’mon, Paige! I know you’re leaving out some major details from earlier today,” she insists.
Furrowing my brows once more, I look over at her and ask, “What? What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“P! Dude, seriously?! What happened with Jax when he waltzed so casually into your office? You said he came to say good night and then we got distracted by my sister calling me to bitch about something useless... then after I hung up with her, we never got back into it. Now, shoot. Tell me what happened.” She just emphasized the last sentence to give it dramatic effect. Told ya. Drama queen.
I give her a smirk as I shake my head from side-to-side. “Nothing.”
“So, that was it?” Margie asks.
I shrug and continue spacing out in front of me. My eyes are glued on the show playing on the television, but if you’d asked me, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it is. “Yeah. I mean, what else would have happened? He said good night, and that was it.”
She lets out a deep breath and flashes me a sly grin. Fuck. I know that smirk. She’s up to no good. “Oh my God, what? What did you do?”
She feigns hurt, putting her right hand up to her chest, taking in a large gulp of air as she does so. “Me? Nothing... yet.”
I gasp. “Margie! I’m going to kill you! Tell me right now what you’ve got up your sleeves!”
She laughs, swinging her feet up into a crossed-leg position on the couch. “Well, OK. I lied. Maybe I did do something.”
I’m dying inside. What could she have possibly done? I know she doesn’t have Jax’s phone number. Plus, he probably would have texted me something about it, wouldn’t he, asking me what the hell is wrong with my best friend.
“Spill!” I demand this time.
“OK, OK,” she says. “So, while I was at work today, I got bored with what I was supposed to be doing... I mean, I can only look at so many paint samples in one day. Anyway, I started surfing the web and a lot of Valentine’s ads came up. One in particular grabbed my attention instantly.”
Oh my fucking God. “What?”
“It’s a new website that had a special offer on it... I couldn’t refuse.” She showcases every single one of her teeth, her eyes squinting tightly.
“I’m so going to kill you.”
She chuckles. “No, you won’t.”
My eyes widen. She’s testing me, making my anger flare. “Oh, yes. I am.”
She dismisses me with her right hand and pulls out her cell phone. How is she so calm right now, knowing I’m going to beat the crap out of her? Oh, I know. Because she knows damn well I won’t do anything. She’s my bestie.
Resigning, I ask, “OK. Tell me. What is it?”
Margie looks up at me with a knowing glance. “Oh, well. Look who decided to be a mature adult.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut the fuck up and just tell me.”
She giggles. “It’s called Single Status.”
“Single what?!” OK, yeah. I am definitely going to murder this bitch.
“Single Status. Yeah, it’s actually great... hear me out.”
My legs start shaking, and my heart begins to race. “I’m waiting...”
She smiles at me again, obviously content with her chance at destroying my life. “So, you fill out a simple form, and it mails out a letter with a candy gram attached to your secret admirer. You tell them where and when to meet you. Right now, they are doing a special for singles on Valentine’s Day. I couldn’t refuse. You select a fun event that can be done alone or with other single people, and if you happen to meet the one, then so be it. There was also a section that lets you select the option of sending one out to a secret crush. So, I had to do it for you. I sent Jackson one.”
“How?! You don’t even have his phone number,” I say.
“Pssh, please. He was easy to find out. I hacked your email account and found Mr. Perfect’s information... number, address and all,” she announces, damn proud of herself.
I roll my eyes. I want to wring her neck right now.
“Anyway, you’re going to meet him at the pier on Valentine’s Day at 7 p.m. The event I picked for you both to do is painting. You’ve got a creative side, and I’m sure he does, too. Oh, and you’re welcome,” she spits out. She flashes me a devilish grin, but I just want to kill her. I’m mortified beyond belief.
“Oh my God, woman! How am I supposed to look at him when I go back to work tomorrow?” I jump up from the couch and begin pacing the living room.
“P, chill the fuck out! Did you not hear me? I told you, it’s anonymous. He has no idea it’s from you. Plus, he won’t get it ‘til two days before Valentine’s Day, so no worries when you see him tomorrow, anyway. He has no idea it’s coming or who it’s from.”
I turn to face her and stop walking back and forth like a crazy woman.
She taps the seat beside her on the couch and says, “Sit.”
I look at her for a moment and then decide to do as she’s just told me. I sit down and face forward, thinking over everything she’s just said. If it’s anonymous, and he has no idea that it’s coming yet, then what do I have to worry about right now? Granted, meeting him on Valentine’s Day on the pier is going to give it away, won’t it?
I turn to face her once more. “It’s totally anonymous?” I ask, needing confirmation once more.
She nods. “Completely.”
I bite down on my bottom lip as both of my legs jiggle. This is a nervous habit of mine that I’ve had for as long as I can remember. Suddenly, I stop bouncing my legs and let out a breath. “Why the pier?” I ask.
She gives me a small smile, letting me know she realizes I’m giving in to her bizarre idea. Somehow, she happens to think it’s great. I know I’m just setting myself up for failure.
“Because the pier is both of your favorite spot. You guys go there every so often. When I saw it was an option, I had to pick it. But c’mon, he’s not going to think anything other than how much he wants kiss you once when he sees you. I’ll make sure you look your best, as you always do. Plus, he’ll never think you are the one who sent it to him.”
I smirk. “You mean, you. You’re the one who did this.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter either way. I just want him to finally see you for the good woman you are and to realize what he’s had in front of him all along. I just want my bestie to me happy.”
I smile. “I love ya, Margie.”
She laughs, playfully nudging me in the arm. “Love ya, too, P.”