Swipe Right

9| Only make believe

Jax looks like a different person under the dimly lit sconce lamps of Wilma's Diner. He looks softer, for one, less intimidating, like a guy who might bring you flowers or open your car door–a guy you can depend on.

We get a booth up front. I haven't been here since before my dad left, and it feels strange yet oddly familiar.

Jax looks over like he can read my mind. "You still come here with your dad?"

I swallow hard. While he knows that my parents divorced a while back, he doesn't know that my father abandoned me; I kind of want to keep it that way.

"Sometimes," I say, shrugging half-heartedly. "He's pretty busy these days."

Our waitress is Maple, a middle-aged, motherly type woman with long auburn hair and a permanent smile. She sets down our waters and lets us know she'll be back in a few minutes to take our order.

I run my fingers along the bright red napkin. Everything about this feels like a real date, from the way Jax had picked me up in his truck to the way he'd pulled out my chair for me. It takes all of my common sense to remember this is just a practice run. This guy in front of me–this isn't the real Jax. The real Jax is the boy who would throw away a friendship like it meant nothing to him. The real Jax makes me want to hang myself with a rope.

Despite my reservations, it is surprisingly easy with him. I don't spend the date looking at my hands, too afraid to meet his eyes. I'm not afraid to ugly laugh or speak my mind. I'm not worrying about whether or not I look pretty when I smile, because I don't care what Jax thinks of me. It makes it surprisingly easy to be myself.

"Remember to ask him lots of questions," he says, "but keep the conversation light."

I spend a few minutes contemplating what kind of questions to ask. My Google search had said sex, previous girlfriends, politics and religion are all off limits. Now I find myself unable to think of anything else.

"So," I finally say. "What's your favorite animal?"

Jax stares back like I've just asked to inspect his armpits or something. "I'll answer," he says, leaning in closer, "but don't even think about asking a question like that on your actual date. It's a wolf."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "I guess I like how independent they are, but as soon as the pack needs them, they all come together. It kind of reminds me of how your family are." He clears his throat. "What's yours?"

I rest my arms on the table before remembering how my mother would scold me for it. "Elephants," I say. "I mean, I've never actually seen one in real life, but I think I'd like them. They seem cute, and they look out for each other, too."

Jax's eyebrows furrows like he can't quite believe this. "You've never seen a real elephant? Didn't your parents ever take you to the animal sanctuary?"

"Nope. They worked a lot when we were growing up, and I guess I never really thought to go and visit on my own. So, you got any hobbies?"

His eyes light up in a way that I've missed. "Basketball, drumming–I'm really into music. My band and I play gigs at Loco's sometimes."

I raise my eyebrow. I knew Jax could play a whole range of instruments, but I had no idea he was in a band. "You any good?"

He smiles slightly. "Relatively. What about you? Still into Space, I'm guessing. I always see you out in the front yard with your telescope."

I think maybe he's making fun of me, but the look in his eyes isn't mocking tonight, it's just curious. "Yeah, my mom actually bought me a new one for my birthday the other month."