After I take a shower and put together a couple of outfit options, I grab my phone. Jax has texted a third time, which astounds me. Aren’t fratty types unable to wake before noon due to residual post-partying effects?
can u meet me or not??
At least his texting style meets his stereotype’s expectations.
I decide to wear my shorts printed with lemons and flowers with a bright white sleeveless shirt Maliah gave to me for my birthday this year that I’ve somehow managed to keep in spotless condition. Sometime between hanging up my towel and adding a bright pink enamel necklace to my outfit, I must have decided that even giving in to Jax’s text demands is a better use of my time than sticking around here.
Plus this is clearly a going-out look.
Normally, I understand my own motivations a little more. Everything seems a little fuzzy since yesterday’s daydreaming and distractions in Lemonberry, though. Am I bored? (Possibly.) Do I miss Rachel? (Absolutely.) Am I jealous that Maliah has another person to spend her time with this summer? (Obviously, even if that makes me a baby.)
And so Jax and I meet outside of the overpriced juice place on Glendale. He’s wearing a Westglen T-shirt with baggy basketball shorts and worn-out flip flops. He looks like he put less effort into getting ready than I even realized was possible, but even a lesbian can admit that it all still sort of works because he’s tall and in really good shape and clearly goes to a barber who knows exactly what to do with his sun-bleached light brown hair.
“Man, I am hooked on these things,” he says, holding the door open for me. “Who the hell knew beets could be good to drink.”
I groan without even meaning to. “You sound like my mom.”
“That’s flattering.” He orders some fruit/vegetable combo that would make Norah’s heart sing. “What’d you want? It’s on me.”
“I’m good,” I say. I think it should be illegal to pay double digits for freaking juice. “I’ll get a coffee next door.”
“I bet you’re curious,” he says while we’re exiting The Juice and walking into Kaldi. “What is Jax up to? Burgers sound intriguing!”
“That doesn’t sound like my inner monologue at all,” I say before ordering a blended mocha from the barista who seems like he’s trying too hard to look like Che Guevara. “Oh wait! I like coffee now. Regular coffee.”
“So … just a coffee?” the barista asks.
“You heard the lady,” Jax says. “Get her a coffee!”
He does, and then I spend a few minutes getting the coffee to the same consistency as yesterday. I think of Jordi when I taste it, and I know that I should probably hate the competition, but I smile anyway.
“Cool fruity shorts,” Jax says.
“Is that sarcastic?” I ask as we sit down at a little table with our beverages.
“Do I seem sarcastic?” He grins, and I have to admit that I’m not sure Jax is even capable of sarcasm. “So have you heard of the Best Blank?”
“I have not.”
“It’s my dad’s thing,” he says. “It’s an app. Kind of like Yelp but instead of reviewing places, it’s all about finding the best stuff. So if you’re in New York and you want the best lobster, it’ll tell you where to find it.”
“Okay,” I say. “Could it tell me the best overpriced juice in Atwater Village?”
“Yup,” he says. “It will, at least. Dad’s still working out all the kinks, getting investors, all that. So he needs some people testing it this summer, and I volunteered for burgers.”
“Why am I involved in this?” I ask.
“Uh, because you’re cool and we’ll have fun eating a shitload of burgers and ranking them?” He shrugs. “Also, I need girl advice and you’re my best possible source.”
I laugh aloud. “That cannot be true.”
“You’re a girl and you date girls. You have all the girl knowledge someone could possess.”
“I’m a girl, sure,” I say. “And in some magical dreamland, maybe I’d date girls. But in this one, the one we’re actually living in? I just get crushes on celebrities and then one real girl who turned out to be straight. You should really, really not be taking any advice from me.”
“Which celebrities?” he asks. “Last week I had this really weird sex dream about—”
“No,” I say. “I do not need to know how that sentence ends.”
“But you’ll eat burgers with me?” he asks.
“I seriously don’t understand why you’re asking me.”
“Friends-in-law!” he says. “Seriously, doesn’t it bum you out sometimes? Last summer I totally would have gotten Trevor in on this. Now he’s tied up with Maliah sixty percent of the time and then the other forty he’s talking about eating right so he’s ready for next season.”
“I’m sure you have other friends,” I say.
“Yeah, and so do you, and you’re still here with me in your fruity shorts.”
He grins, and I realize he’s right. I could have made plans with Brooke or Zoe. And instead I’m here.
“C’mon,” he says. “Did I mention my dad’s company pays for everything?”
“You didn’t, and … fine.”
“You’ll do it?” He holds up his hand for a high-five. “Hell yeah.”
“I have an internship Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays,” I say. “So I can’t just eat burgers nonstop. Also, I’m not planning on having a heart attack at seventeen, so I really cannot eat burgers nonstop.”
“We’ll get it worked out.” He holds up his juice and tips the last of the bottle into his mouth. “We can start today. You in?”
I may have already hit my Jax limit today, but the only burger I can get at home is full of pins and eyeliner. It’s not hard to make the decision.
That’s the thing about Jax; somehow, he, a guy I barely know, already feels like a forgone conclusion.
We walk to the Morrison, even though Jax has his BMW. It seems ridiculous to me to drive less than a mile, especially in June when it’s still fairly cool
