“Because you forgot to use a condom?” I ask, confused.
“I never bring women back here. Not to my apartment, not to meet my family, and definitely not into my bed.”
“I should get cleaned up,” I tell him shyly, not completely sure what to say in response to his admission. His words have my insides on fire, my heart thumping in my chest. But I just met him not even twelve hours ago. I don’t have any other relationships to compare this to, but I can’t imagine falling for someone this fast is the norm.
Jase backs up so I can climb off the bed. Following me into his bathroom, he insists we shower together. I’ve never showered with a man before, but Jase doesn’t make me feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. The entire time we’re in the shower, he makes it a point to touch me in some way. Whether it’s soaping me up, or massaging the shampoo into my scalp, his hands are on me. And the more he touches me, gives me his undivided attention, the more I want to stay in our little bubble and never leave.
When we get out, he tells me he’ll be right back. He returns with a pair of sweats and a hoodie. They’re pink and similar to the outfit Quinn was wearing.
“Thank you. I’ll wash them and then get them back to her.” I pull my hair up into a messy bun then get dressed. I put my bra back on but go commando, not wanting to wear my day-old panties. I gather up my clothes from last night and fold them into a neat pile while Jase gets dressed. My heart tightens in my chest when I hear the clinking of his keys. This is it. Our night together is over. He’s going to take me home, and then he’ll continue his life while I continue mine. Tears prick my eyes, and I quickly lift my finger to wipe them away. I don’t cry. Why am I crying now? Grow up, Celeste! This is what people our age do. We have one-night stands. We hook up and then go our separate ways. Don’t act like an immature weirdo.
“I almost forgot to show you,” Jase says, breaking me out of my crazy silent monologue. I take a deep breath and turn to face him. He’s dressed in a plain white T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, and a loose pair of jeans. His one arm comes up so his fingers can run through his damp hair, and I spot a hint of his thick happy trail leading down to the Promised Land. I should’ve spent more time getting to know his body while I had him. I didn’t even have a chance to taste him yet.
Jase clears his throat, and it’s then I notice he’s facing his phone toward me and sporting a knowing smirk. He totally caught me checking him out. I simply shrug. No point in denying it. I step closer to see what’s on his screen and immediately recognize the one dimple on my lower back. And then my focus turns to the most beautiful artwork I’ve ever seen. A black and grey dandelion that looks like it’s blowing in the wind comes up my hip with stray petals dancing in the wind. A smaller one next to it. Along the stem of the larger dandelion is a quote: And from the chaos of her soul flowed beauty.
“Jase,” I whisper. How could he possibly write something that hits so close to home without even knowing me? Understand the chaos that I feel deep inside of me every day? The confusion that flows through me when I think about where I come from and where I want to go. The struggle to love myself but at the same time want more.
“My mom used to wish on dandelions,” Jase says, his voice thick with emotion. “She would take Jax and me for walks in our neighborhood when we were little, and she would find every single one she could, blowing on them as she made wish after wish.”
“What did she wish for?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs a shoulder. “But my guess is success. She wanted to be an actress.” He smiles warmly. “She was beautiful. At least from what I can remember.” The corners of his mouth turn down slightly. “She was actually in a couple small shows, but then she met my dad. She fell in love and found herself pregnant with my brother. A year later came me.” I notice he doesn’t mention Quinn. “She didn’t know it at the time, but my dad was already married. His wife couldn’t have kids…or so they thought. A few years later, Quinn was born. My dad juggled his two families for a while, but eventually he got caught. When his wife found out about us, he proved my mom to be an unfit parent and got custody of us. My mom couldn’t handle it—losing my dad and us. She had given up her dreams for him, only to learn he didn’t feel the same way about her. She ended up committing suicide.”