Hallie would’ve been touched by the sentiment if it weren’t for the fact that he’d had someone important in his life last week. Talk about a desperate need to be in a relationship. Still . . .
Hallie: Truth only: I’m looking for pretty much the same thing. She didn’t want him to misunderstand, so she added: Only not with you, so don’t get all squirmy again.
Jack: Rest assured, I will not squirm.
Hallie: Well, good luck on finding your perfect woman.
Jack: Good luck to you, as well. Your bra is hanging from my rearview mirror if you change your mind and want it back.
Hallie: Sicko.
Jack: Or I could keep it as a trophy.
Hallie: Y’know, you seem to be a little obsessed with that night.
Jack: I’m a little obsessed with that elevator.
Hallie’s stomach dropped and she managed to type Good night and good luck, Sicko before exiting the app and turning off her light. She needed sleep, and a lot of it.
Jack
Jack stared at the phone, wearing a stupid smile.
He shut down his computer—enough work for one night—and went into the kitchen. There were still boxes scattered here and there, but the new place was actually starting to look good. He opened the fridge and grabbed the milk, his mind still on Hallie as he poured a glass.
Yes, she was hot, and he still couldn’t stop himself from replaying moments of that night over and over again in his head, but it also seemed like she was genuinely fun.
It’d been too long since he’d had actual fun.
He wasn’t interested in dating someone he’d had a one-night stand with, and she’d made it abundantly clear she wasn’t interested in him, but in a weird way, he was glad she’d decided to mess with him on the app.
She’d reminded him that fun was a thing.
He put the milk back in the fridge and shut the door, only to see Mr. Meowgi staring up at him with those annoyingly adorable kitten eyes. It was day three of Jack being a cat owner, and the jury was still out on whether he’d made a terrible mistake.
“This is for me, buddy,” he said, picking up the cup. “Not you.”
It—he—meowed, and that tiny little squeak made the cat seem even smaller and more helpless than he actually was. Jack rolled his eyes, shook his head, and set the glass of milk on the floor.
“Here, you little beggar,” he said, crouching down to pet the irritating fluffball as he started drinking his milk. “But this is the last time.”
Meowgi started purring, as if to say, Sure it is.
Chapter
FOUR
Hallie
“What do you think?”
“I love it.” Hallie looked in the mirror and smiled. She’d had the stylist take off four inches and give her some color, so now she had a shoulder-length bob with some subtle highlights, and she’d also gotten her brows done. Between that and the clothes she’d bought online the day before, she really did feel like some sort of “new” Hallie Piper.
She was making it happen, dammit.
She’d taken the day off to fix her life, and she was so glad she had.
First, she’d put in her notice at both of her part-time jobs. It was mind-boggling, all the time she was going to have for . . . well, pretty much anything, now that she would only be working from nine to five.
After that, she’d spent the morning looking at apartments, and an hour ago, she’d put down a security deposit on a new place. She hadn’t meant to—she hadn’t even told Ruthie she was moving yet, and it was only the first day of the hunt—but the last building she’d visited had been too perfect to pass up. It was downtown, a former-hospital-turned-modern-apartment-complex, and it was amazing. City views, rooftop patio, indoor pool, sports bar in the lobby; she was obsessed. It was a little north of her price point, and waaaaay smaller than the others she’d looked at, but she liked it enough to make it work.
It was just so grown-up.
And as she walked to her car after leaving the salon, she found that she couldn’t stop smiling. Everything was falling into place, and it made her feel good. She wasn’t a hot mess shit show any longer.
She even had a date that night.
She’d been messaging Kyle through the app for a couple of days, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about their impending evening. He had a job and seemed like a nice person, so that was good. But their exchanges were pretty . . . matter-of-fact. Yes, he could be amusing, but they didn’t have the kind of banter that made Hal want to lock herself in her bedroom and chat all night, either.
Yet.
She kept reminding herself of that fact—they didn’t have it yet. Hopefully they would meet up for dinner, share a few laughs, have a great time, and proceed to banter the hell out of each other from that night forward.