The Love Square (8 page)

***

The next morning, Alex used his key and woke Jenna early for a run. She dragged herself out of bed, majorly exhausted and minorly hungover, washed her face, yanked on her running gear, threw her hair into a ponytail, and grabbed her iPod, all without saying much to Alex. He set the coffee machine to brew while they were out, as he always did, and off they went.

This time she took the lead. She refused to watch him from behind running away from her. She led them in a different direction, shaking things up a bit. Instead of stopping at their park, where they usually collapsed onto the grass and chatted for a while, she kept running, wondering if he even noticed. With each stride, she felt stronger but more irritated. Her feet pounded the pavement as sweat poured off her face.

If Alex doesn’t want to be with me, it’s his loss
,
she thought over and over.

Back at her apartment, they drank their coffee and made small talk. She refused to give him the satisfaction of her smile and then left him at her kitchen table. She lingered in the shower until she heard him locking the deadbolt on his way out.

She dressed for work, opting for a suit and heels, and spent time doing her hair and makeup. Jenna felt less blah when she checked herself out in the mirror and decided she looked awesome. She grabbed her necessary gear, most importantly her travel coffee mug containing cup number two, and marched out of her apartment.

Outside, the sun warmed the morning air and people filled the street. Jenna continued to feel less blah as she noticed various men checking her out.

She settled on the train as her phone vibrated with a text message.

Alex: Have a great day.

Asshole.
The word kept repeating in her head.
Asshole.
“He is a fucking asshole,” she whispered. Either nobody heard or they chose to ignore her. Jenna threw her phone back into her bag and concentrated on feeling awesome again.

When the train stopped in Midtown, Jenna climbed the stairs to the street. Halfway up to street level, a man in a suit shoved her as he bolted up the stairs. Jenna stumbled, hitting her shoulder on the wall of the stairwell.

She stared after the man in awe.
That’s it
, she thought, stomping up the stairs after him. Her blood boiled and her cheeks flamed hot.
That’s it
, she thought again. Then she yelled it.

“That’s it!”

She ignored the confused looks, and when she reached street level, she stood still in the middle of the busy sidewalk. Rushing commuters huffed and puffed as they formed footpaths around her.

“Why do men suck?” she yelled. “Can someone
please
answer me?”

In New York, crazy people yelling on the street don’t usually draw much attention, but some people yelled out encouragement, advice, and obscenities.

“You go, girl.”

“Find another man, honey.”

“You need a date, sweetheart? I’ll do you good.”

“Jesus loves you, little lady.”

I really hate people
, she thought, calming down as she made her way to her building and up to her tiny office on the twenty-seventh floor. She sat at her desk and unloaded her bag, promising herself she would find the right guy and she wouldn’t let him tell her no. She was worthy of love, dammit, and she would find it.

She knew just where to start. She called Penny, a serial dater with the know-how she needed, and asked her to create an online dating profile. By the end of the day, Jenna had received five messages.

She picked the most interesting one—Ken, thirty-two, single, stockbroker, Manhattan, nonsmoker—and sent him an email. By the time she left work to go to the dance studio, she and Ken had set a date for lunch the next day. Her first real date in over a year.

She was young and somewhat normal, and pretty enough that she should be able to spark the interest of someone.
I am worthy of love, so what is the problem?

Maybe Penny and Scott were right—she spent too much time with Alex. They’d warned her if she didn’t watch out, she’d end up a single, middle-aged woman, letting Alex mooch breakfast from her after his one-night stands. Jenna hadn’t listened because she didn’t care and because she loved her time with Alex.
That big, stupid jerk.

After work, Jenna sprinted to the train, leaping onto the last car and rushing to the only open seat. Her bag vibrated, and she dug out her phone. Alex wanted to go to dinner. She typed
No, busy
,
and threw the phone back in her bag.

When the train stopped, Jenna did the mad dash to the studio, changed into her dancewear, and gave an inspiring pep talk to her unmotivated at-risk teenagers. She paced the length of the room as the girls stretched at the barre and rolled their shoulders, loosening up for class.

“Girls,” she started, “each and every one of you in this room is so special. You all have something to offer this world. Never let anyone make you feel otherwise. You are strong, you are smart, and you are perfectly imperfect. People out there,” she said, pointing toward the street, “will try and break you down, make you doubt yourself, try to get you to be weak in mind and spirit, but you stay strong. Believe in yourself, believe in your dreams, stay focused, and make them happen.”

The girls watched her, stunned. Hopefully, they would think on her words.

Jenna listened to her own advice and channeled all her energy into teaching class. Ever since her first ballet class at age seven, she’d felt most at home in the dance studio. The wooden floors and mirrors put her at peace more than her real home ever did. The music filled her heart, and the work her body did heightened her senses and awareness.

Here, Jenna exercised complete control. The walls engulfed her like the arms of a mother—inspiring, challenging, comforting, praising. The mirror reflected everything she wanted to become, everything she had the ability to achieve. The girls she taught lived lives way more difficult than she had. She hoped they too could take solace within the studio.

After her class cleared the room, Scott joined Jenna for their best, most intense rehearsal yet for nationals. They danced their tango perfectly, and every other dance progressed on schedule.

Satisfied with herself for turning such a downer morning into such a kickass evening, Jenna arrived at her apartment building a little after eleven and bounded up the stairs as if she hadn’t just worked out for hours. She opened the door to her dark, quiet apartment and instantly knew Alex had been there when she noticed his coffee mug, which she had washed and put away that morning, back in the sink. She gave the dirty mug the finger and decided not to touch it and be poisoned with his rejection after such a great night.

She threw her bags on the floor and sank into her couch. Alex’s chicken-scratch handwriting stared back at her from her coffee table. For a second, she resolved to ignore his note but then caved and picked it up.

Jen—I know how busy you are with nationals and work and everything. I was bored out of my skull and I knew you wouldn’t have time, so I watched your DVR’d shows (well, most of them—I gave up halfway through the Housewives) and wrote a synopsis so you would be caught up. It’s that stack of paper on the TV stand.

Jenna looked up and saw the stack of about ten pages or so. She kept reading.

I wish I could do more for you. I thought about cooking you something, but (a) that would be a disaster, and (b) I wasn’t sure if you were coming home tonight. Also (c), I’m way too lazy. Ha. I miss you and love you. Alex.

Jenna folded the note and stood to grab Alex’s papers off the television stand. She couldn’t help but smile as she scanned the pages, filled with his horrendous handwriting with some words underlined, in all caps, or bolded. He had watched five episodes of her favorite soap,
Love and Stuff
, and she giggled at his declaration:

THIS SHOW ROCKS.

Farther down, he’d written:

You are NEVER watching this without me again!!!

He’d even suffered through two episodes of the Housewives.

Really, Jenna? REALLY? My God, woman, you have NOTHING better to spend your time on?

She smiled, sat down, and started at the beginning, reading every summary he’d written, laughing and shaking her head at his crazy comments.

Just like that, Jenna let go of her hope of a potential love affair with Alex and reembraced their friendship.
We can do this.
She could do this. This is what she wanted. She wanted
her
Alex—the crazy man who would watch her DVR when he knew she was too busy to do it herself. She didn’t want that to change.

She picked up her phone and called him. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey, you,” she said.

“Hi! Are you at Scott’s?”

“No, home. I wanted to apologize for being a little distant today.”

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me,” he said.

“Where are you?”

“I just left the ballpark.”

“Did you win?”

“No. I hit, though, so that’s good.”

“Awesome. I wanted to say good night.”

“Night, Stecs.”

“Run tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“Love you,” Jenna told him.

“Love you too.”

“Alex?”

“Um-hm?”

“Thanks for watching my shows. Even the sucky ones. Your notes made me smile.”

“I’m glad. And I was serious about
Love and Stuff
. Why didn’t you tell me how great it is? I have about a hundred questions.”

Jenna laughed. “I’ll catch you up.”

“You know Dylan, my friend from high school?”

“Yep. Dylan, Steve, and Alex. The three amigos.” Alex talked about them constantly.

“He was on
Sunrise, Sunset
for six months. They killed him off.”

“He was? You never told me.” She’d have to cyberstalk this Dylan guy.

“I forget he’s an actor sometimes. Is
Sunrise, Sunset
any good?”

“No. That’s our rival show,” Jenna said. “Maybe we should start running a half hour earlier and sneak in
Love and Stuff
in the morning with coffee.”

“Excellent plan, but not tomorrow. I’m beat. Regular time?”

“Deal. See you then,” Jenna said.

She disconnected and hugged his notes to her chest, feeling lucky to have him in whatever capacity worked. Friendship definitely worked. Jenna vowed to accept that as she dragged herself into the shower and washed off the day, then crawled into bed. She fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Chapter 6

Alex

Alex hung up with Jenna and wanted nothing more than to creep into her apartment and sleep next to her. He wanted to hear her breathe, to be around her, to know everything was all right. He had been a mess all day worrying. Their run in the morning had been torture, not only because she didn’t seem to want to talk, but because running behind her was incredibly distracting, and every stride reminded him that he’d passed up the opportunity to be with her.
I’m such an asshole
, he thought with every step.

He hadn’t known what to do when she ignored his texts, so finally, he’d broken down and called Scott, who’d assumed Alex had been a jerk to Jenna.

Alex replayed the conversation in his head.

“Really, I wasn’t an asshole. I swear.”

“Then give her some air, for Christ’s sake. The two of you are on top of each other all the time.”

Alex knew Scott was right, but separating from Jenna was near impossible, even for a day. So instead, he spent the afternoon immersed in her. He lay on her couch, watched her shows, and wrote her notes. He took the pillow from her bed so he could smell her shampoo. He brushed aside the thought that he was crazy.

That she wanted to give them a chance was a miracle, and he’d thrown it back in her face with his “I can’t do it” speech. He hated himself for rejecting her.

But after watching her shows and talking to her, Jenna seemed to be back to her old self the next day. They went for their morning run and talked in the park afterward. He drank his coffee in her bathroom while she showered, until she kicked him out to get dressed.

Alex did a double take when Jenna came out of her bedroom ready for work, looking more amazing than usual. She wore a sleeveless, plain, gray dress with a tie around the waist and a deep
V
that showed off her long neck. Although the dress came to her knees, her legs looked incredibly sexy from the knee down in sky-high black pumps. Her hair, which usually hung straight down her back, was puffy, as though she had shaken it around.

She looked down at herself. “Am I popping out somewhere?”

“Oh, uh, no. You look…wow. Great.”

“Thanks.” She walked past him and started the never-ending search for her keys.

“You have a hot date or something?” Alex teased. He picked up her remote and flipped to the sports news channel to distract himself from thinking that he could be going to bed with her later and waking up with her tomorrow if he weren’t such a freaking mess.

When he realized Jenna wasn’t moving or talking, he looked up and found her staring. “What?” he asked.

“I sort of do,” she said.

“Sort of do what?”

“Have a date today.”

Alex tried his hardest to act casual. “Really?” He lifted his eyebrows and heard his voice squeak.
Smooth.
“Anyone I know?”

“Don’t think so. I met him online. Penny set me up with a profile.” Jenna continued to flutter around the apartment. “Now where are my keys?” She mumbled as she searched her purse.

Alex hated the douchebag already. “Wait. You don’t know him?”

“Not yet. We’re meeting at lunch.”

Alex knew when Douchebag got one look at Jenna, he would fall head over heels in love with her.
Damn Penny.
“Online dating, Jen? Is that safe?”

“We’re meeting at a public place, Dad.” She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “You know the Italian restaurant by my office? Can’t get much safer than that, right?”

Alex spotted Jenna’s keys on the television stand. He brought them to her in the kitchen and dropped them near her purse. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just you and him?”

Jenna grabbed her snack bag from the fridge, then mimicked his posture. “That’s usually how dates work. Is there a problem?”

She stared, challenging him to show one ounce of the jealousy he felt.
Yes
, Alex thought,
my idiocy is a huge problem.
“No,” he said, shrugging. “Have fun. Be safe.”

“I will. Geez, he’s a stockbroker, Alex, not a mass murderer.”

“It’s easy to be a ‘stockbroker’ online, Jenna. Do you think mass murderers call themselves mass murderers in their online profiles?”

“I guess not,” she said dismissively. “I’ll be fine. I’ll bring my pepper spray in case he tries to kidnap me or something.”

She kissed Alex on the cheek, and the flowery scent of her perfume overwhelmed his senses. Douchebag was a goner.
Fuck
, Alex thought as Jenna put on her sunglasses and headed for the door.
It’s not supposed to happen this way.

“Talk to you later. Don’t forget to lock up. You know, with all those mass murderers lurking,” she teased as she walked out.

Alex stood frozen in her kitchen, staring at the door she’d just left through until his gaze landed on a photo of the two of them held up by a magnet on her fridge.
At least I know where I’m having lunch today.
No way he’d let Jenna meet Douchebag on her own.

***

Later that day, Alex wore his baseball cap and sunglasses and staked out the Italian place near Jenna’s office from the coffee shop across the street. Two cups of coffee and an hour of playing with his phone later, he watched her walk down the street toward the restaurant. She didn’t notice how every man she passed turned to look at her.

Alex slumped in his chair as she entered the restaurant and unsuccessfully tried to watch her through the restaurant windows. When they finally emerged, Alex got a good look at Douchebag, with his yellow Viking hair and giant smile.

Bastard.
Of course he’s smiling.
Who wouldn’t smile when your date turned out to be the most beautiful woman in the city? Jenna smiled back at Douchebag, laughing at something he’d said. They walked toward her office.

Alex’s afternoon of security watch and coffee took its toll as he made his way back to Brooklyn. He couldn’t sit still and longed to punch something. He knew he had no right to be jealous.
I’m worried, not jealous
, he tried to convince himself.

On his way to the gym, his phone buzzed with a text from Jenna.

Jenna: Not a mass murderer. I’m perfectly fine. Knew you’d be worried. All is well.

He wrote back:

Good. Thanks for letting me know
.

Alex didn’t talk to her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t stomach hearing about her date, so after the gym, he headed for the ballpark.

Later that night after his game, he returned to his apartment and showered, debating whether or not to call her. Dripping, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked to the kitchen to grab a beer.

He jumped about ten feet when he noticed Jenna sitting on his couch. “Stecs! Are you trying to kill me?” He retightened the towel around his waist.

Jenna looked tired and sweaty. She’d most likely come straight from rehearsal. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to say good night in person.” Her eyes scanned his bare chest, and his heart palpitated when he remembered he was practically naked.

“Okay, good night,” she said quickly and got up to leave.

“No, stay,” Alex heard himself beg. “Let me go put some clothes on. You scared me, that’s all.” He trotted into his bedroom and put on a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt, then went back out to Jenna.

She lay on his couch, her head resting on her hands. He stretched out opposite her, his head to her feet.
“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m feeling a little scattered today. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I need a plan, but I’m too tired to figure anything out. Why are there only twenty-four hours in a day?”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course.” He loved when she fell asleep on his couch so he had an excuse to carry her to his bed for the night. Now he didn’t need the excuse.

“You forgot to ask how my date went,” Jenna murmured sleepily.

“That was on purpose.” She kicked him in the shoulder, and he scowled. “Ouch! Okay. How’d your date go, Jen?”

She yawned.
“Is it just me, or is there something inherently untrustworthy about stockbrokers?”

“No love connection with the big blond wolf, then?” Alex asked, his eyelids heavy.

Jenna jerked up. “How’d you know he was blond? I didn’t tell you that.”

“You didn’t?”
Shit.
He had only a second to think but was too tired to come up with a valid answer.
Too late.

“Oh. My. God. Are you fucking nuts?” Jenna yelled, grabbing her stuff and heading for the door.

“Wait,” he called.

She flung it open and disappeared into the hallway. Alex followed.

“Wait!” he shouted again, breaking into a run.

Alex caught up with her in the stairwell. “Jenna,” he started, although he had no idea what to say next.

“You fucking followed me? That’s so…creepy. What is wrong with you?”

Alex had nothing but the truth, so he went with it. “Look. I wasn’t about to let you go alone to meet a stranger who picks up women online. So sue me.”

She bounded down the stairs again, her shoulder bags slamming against her back with each step. Alex followed her to the sixth-floor landing as she yelled behind her, “You stalked me! Oh my God, that’s so”—she shook her hands in front of her—“ick.” She busted through the stairwell door to her apartment and dug out her key.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, even though he wasn’t. “I was worried.”

She opened the door, threw her bags inside, and braced herself on the doorframe. He tried to push past her into the apartment, but she blocked him. “You don’t get to play the jealous boyfriend,” she said, poking him in the chest.

Jenna tried to slam the door, but he stuck his arm out, making it impossible. “Listen,” he said more sternly. “I don’t care if you’re mad. I wanted to make sure the guy was on the up and up. He’s a stranger, Jenna, and you’re way too trusting.”

“Whatever, Alex,” she said. “Just go away.”

Alex worried when her anger lost steam. Anger he could deal with, but he feared her ambivalence.
“Will you let me in so we can talk about this without waking up the entire building?”

“No,” she said as she shut the door in his face.

I must be insane
, he thought as he walked to his apartment. He fell on his bed and pulled the sheet over himself, then restless, threw it aside and stood up to pace. Had he been playing the part of the jealous boyfriend with her? He needed to get his shit together, or despite his best efforts at keeping her, he could end up losing her forever.

***

Dylan

Dylan drove Clare’s pickup truck while she played with the radio.

“Guess where you’re going today,” he said as she bopped around in her seat.

“Um, the beach?” she said snottily.

“Yes, smartass, but today’s different.”

She smirked with her super cute, freckled face. “What’s up, Lusty? Fill me in.”

He smiled. “You, my Midwestern Princess, are going in the water today. The big, blue Pacific.” Clare hadn’t been in past her ankles. Whenever they went to the beach, Dylan pleaded with her to join him in a swim, but Clare refused, claiming the waves scared her. “No more excuses,” Dylan said.

“Nuh-uh.” Clare shook her head. “I don’t do the ocean. I don’t even have a bathing suit. I’ll burn! It’s July, Dylan.”

“Listen, Clare. You have to get over this fear of the sun and the waves. You are in California now, trying new things, living the coastal life. Come on. Time to try. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I’m supposed to go into the water in my clothes? I don’t think so,” she said, gesturing to her pink top and long, flowy skirt.

They stopped at a traffic light, and Dylan reached behind his seat to grab his duffel bag. “Check the bag,” he said, handing it to her.

Clare opened it and gasped. “Is this supposed to be for me?” she asked, pulling out the bikini. “Did you buy this?”

“I asked Gretchen to buy you a suit. She said she knew exactly what size to get.”

“It’s a little…” Clare started, in what Dylan knew to be her complaining voice.

“Waterproof?” he finished.

“No.” She dangled the small pieces of red fabric in front of her. “Revealing.”

“Clare, it’s a bathing suit. It’s revealing, so what? Live a little.”

Clare scowled.
“Live a little? Did you just tell me to ‘live a little’?”