Fall (Seaside #4)(19)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Jaymeson rolled his eyes. “Right, and I’m not famous.”

“Ha ha.”

“No seriously.” He scooted our chairs in and placed his hand on the small of my back as he led me out of the restaurant. “We’re friends now, friends share with friends. I mean, I don’t want to you to paint my fingernails or put makeup on me or anything, but you can discuss guys with me. I do happen to be one.”

“No way!” I snapped my fingers. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t make me take my pants off.”

“Feeling threatened?” My eyebrows arched as I crossed my arms and waited for his answer.

He took a step toward me, towering over my body. “Never.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Easy.” He stepped away and winked. “I’ve seen myself naked. Oh, and I’m awesome.”

“Cocky.”

“Only when I need to be.” He grinned.

“I feel like there’s a hidden perverted meaning there and I’m going to choose to ignore it so your face doesn’t end up on the opposite end of my palm.”

“Wow.” He looked both ways then raced with me across the street. “I didn’t get slapped, but I could have sworn I just felt it.”

“I’m magic.”

Jaymeson stopped. His hair fell over his eye making me itch to push it back, you know to help him, um… see better.

“That, I believe.” He opened the door to the church and let me go in first. For being such a whore, he really did have amazing manners. He’d done the same thing at the restaurant and even pulled out my chair like we were at some fancy restaurant in Portland.

“So, boxes.” We both faced the tower of boxes we had left to do. “Tell you what…” He turned to me. “Every box I finish, you have to tell me details about lover boy.”

“Lover boy? Are you ten?”

“Deal or no deal?”

“Deal.” I rolled my eyes. “At least it will keep things interesting, and since you are a guy, you can give me really good advice on how to not be boring.”

Jaymeson froze then dropped the box onto the floor and turned around to face me. “Don’t ever call yourself that. Rule number one, if a guy says you’re boring he’s a jackass. If every fiber of his being isn’t focused on you — especially when you first start dating — you run. You don’t make excuses for his inability to pay attention. You don’t put yourself down. You run, and you don’t look back. Okay?”

“Whoa, that it, Dad?”

Jaymeson scowled. “And say no to drugs.”

“Wow. You’re the definition of wisdom.”

“I try.” He turned back around. “Now I’m going to work my ass off so I get more details. I want to know what type of guy just turned that pretty little head of yours.”

I didn’t respond.

But he’d called me pretty.

The funny thing? I actually sort of believed him.

Chapter Fifteen

Jaymeson

“Box ten is done and all I know about this boy — don’t scowl, he’s a boy until I say he’s a man — is that he works for the film industry. Lame.”

“Lame?” Pris got down on all fours and pushed the heavy box toward the wall. Her back arched. My mouth went dry. She grunted.

I looked away and almost had a freaking seizure. No joke. I swear I almost had an episode.

“Don’t you work in the film industry?”

“I’m the talent.” I shrugged. “Totally different scenario.”

“How so?” She got off the floor — thank God — and started packing up another box.

“Because.” Oh wow, great answer Jaymeson, hitting it out of the park with that one. “I have to pretend. He just writes shit.”

“He just writes shit?” she repeated. “That’s your reason?”

Yeah, I should have come up with a better job for the guy, but it felt wrong to completely lie to her, especially when I was literally messaging her from the bathroom and hiding my identity. Damn, my life should be a movie. What I’d said was true, I had done screen writing and it was fun, I just liked acting more.

“New question.” I taped another box. “What’s he look like?”

Pris’s fingers fumbled with the box. “He, uh, has dark hair.”

“As well as half the population of Seaside. I need details. Does he look funny? Crooked teeth? Weird hairy mole by his mouth? Long nose hair? Come on I want the gory details.”

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“I have a scary creative mind,” I answered honestly. “I can’t help it, so?”

“So…” She slowly placed the stuffed animals in the box. “I haven’t actually seen his face.”

“So he’s a predator,” I joked.

A stuffed animal went soaring by my face.

“You missed.”

Another animal followed, hitting me directly in the balls.

“Good shot,” I wheezed, thanking my lucky stars that the bear wasn’t giant size and packing something sharp.

“He’s… nice.” She shrugged. “I need nice in my life.”

The hell she did. She deserved wild. She deserved crazy. She deserved an adventure. Nice? There was no room for nice in a relationship with a girl like Pris. A man should always be a gentleman, but nice? Nice meant boring, nice meant safe, nice meant two point five children with a white picket fence and a dog named Spot.

Nice be damned.

“I don’t know, we’re just talking, it’s not like anything would happen.” She scooted the full box over to me. “It’s just nice—” Okay, I was officially going to blot out that word from my vocabulary. “—to have attention, I guess. I don’t know, does that sound stupid?”

“No.” I grabbed the box and taped it. “It makes me want to murder every guy you ever went to high school with, but it doesn’t sound stupid.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve done my fair share of dating, believe me.”

My blood pressure just skyrocketed. I laughed. “Oh yeah? How many boyfriends?”

“Twelve.”

The box began to crush beneath my hands.

“Kidding.” She winked. “I’ve had four boyfriends, only one of them tried to have sex with me and that didn’t end well for him.”