I Surrender (6 page)

Chapter 12:

My Heart is Beating Like a Jungle Drum

I
hate Monday’s, especially after tossing and turning for most of the night thinking about my new friend. I don’t even know why I am thinking about him, my brain has officially been fried.

I get out of bed frustrated and exhausted and head downstairs for a cup of my morning pick-me-up. V is scrambling eggs before she heads off to work. I sit down at the kitchen table and rest my head on the table top. I can tell V is looking at me. “What’s up with you?” Most days I can deal with her inquests, but today my brain is fried and I really need to conserve as much brain power to write my CV.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment. You know that doesn’t work with me,” V states scrambling her eggs happily. Looking at her breakfast pensively I realize my brain actually feels like V’s eggs. I let out a random chuckle and V knows it has nothing to do with her comment.

“Ava you are scaring me right now, are you going to cut down my door with an ax and scream ‘HERE’S AVA’ in the middle of the night?”

I giggle at her reference to the movie ‘The Shining.’

“Sorry V. I was comparing your breakfast to my brain and well it sounded a lot funnier in my head.”

“Ah ha,” V replies puzzled. “You need to go out and get some fresh air, get the hell out of the house. Go for a walk and enjoy the sunshine, it’ll help unscramble your brain.” I wish it was that simple. If that was the solution I would be out there from dawn to dusk.

“It’s not that simple V.”

“I know, but it’s better than moping around here all day waiting for Harper to call.” V adds salt and pepper to her breakfast ignoring the fact she has just offended me.

“I am not waiting for Harper,” oh God even saying his name makes me ill, “to call. I know that’s not going to happen I just need time.” I feel the need to clarify this to V because it’ll help me believe it also.

“Time for what? To become a crazy old cat lady. Seriously babe, the sooner you get back on the horse the better. Go forth and prosper,” she says sitting at the kitchen table with me.

I take a sip of her coffee and decide to ask her what she thinks about Jasper and I being friends.

“So, Jasper came over last night.” If I told V I am actually considering a sex change, she would have taken the news better than me telling her about Jasper. She inhales her toast and chokes slightly. After clearing her throat she asks, “Why?”

“He wanted to know why I wasn’t at dinner and to tell me he and Indie are only friends and she feels threatened by me.”

“I am so confused right now.” V looks at me with a puzzled expression, her fork paused in front of her open, gob smacked mouth.

I know the feeling.

“Please explain in English.” V asks after a minute of processing my sentence.

“Jasper explained him and Indie aren’t dating. He said he feels there is something between us and wants to get to know me better. I told him I can only offer him friendship and he is fine with that.” But am I? I don’t want to think why my insides soften whenever I think about him.

“And he came all the way over here to tell you this?” I nod to answer her question.

“I really don’t know what to say. I have never seen Jasper try hard with a girl. This is an effort for him.” V looks as astonished as I was when Jasper came to visit, but her comment ticks me off.

“Going over to someone’s house is an effort for him? That’s just ridiculous. Just because he is blessed with good looks doesn’t mean he can check his manners at the door.” I fail to mention I was the one whose manners were left at the door while I was slamming it into his face.

“No I’m not saying that. It’s just… different. Do you like him?” V corrects herself quickly.

“Like him? I hardly know him.”

“Well from what you do know about him, do you think you could like him?” V probes, up to no good as usual.

“V there is no way I will be pursuing a relationship with Jasper or anyone else for that matter for a very long time. I admit I find Jasper…interesting but we’re just friends.”

“Yeah for now.” V laughs while gobbling up her breakfast.

“Oh Veronica shut it. Look I find Jasper attractive and he is right there is some chemistry between us but it’s purely of a friendly nature.” My reply feels false, like I am lying to her and also to myself. I choose to ignore the reasoning behind those feelings.

V is quiet, which is never a good sign. Before she can interrogate me further, I steal her coffee and head upstairs to work on getting my life back on track.

*****

I have cleaned my room, straightening everything; twice. I cannot put off the unavoidable any longer; I have to start on my CV. Actually sitting down and penning onto paper my life failures is a depressing thought, hence the procrastination. I never thought I would be sitting here writing my CV without a Diploma to add to my credentials. When did my life become so backward?

I finally succumb and make a start on getting my life back. Things are going well until I am glaring at the heading ‘EDUCATION.’ It may as well be screaming at me in big, bold letters that I am a failure. I exhale a frustrated sigh, when will this feeling go away? The ache I felt when I first returned is slowly fading bit by bit but I still feel unsettled. I want to establish myself again without being so afraid of living my life without Harper.

Giving up I head downstairs to make myself some lunch. I open the fridge and am taken aback by all the bright colors of the produce inside and I suddenly feel inspired to create a meal. This is the first time in a long time I have felt motivated to cook and that gives me hope that things might actually be okay.

I am finely slicing my seared tuna to accompany my Salad Nicoise, my mind at complete peace. This is why I decided to pursue a career in the culinary world. I always feel at home in the kitchen and whenever I have a bad day, I create my best dishes. Judging by the colorful creation I just produced, my day totally sucks.

With Florence and the Machine, ‘Dog Days are over’ blaring over my speakers I can’t help but relate to the lyrics. I am singing very loudly and off-key, shaking my booty embarrassingly around the room freely. I don’t know if it’s getting back into the kitchen or the song striking a chord with me but whatever it is, I feel alive.

I am clapping away with enthusiasm and am half way through butchering the chorus when I hear another voice singing along huskily with me. This voice unlike mine has rhythm and heats me from the inside out. This voice belongs to a male currently sitting in my kitchen. And that male is Jasper. I spin around surprised and totally mortified he witnessed me wailing and shuffling around the kitchen like a lunatic. I feel my cheeks redden to match the color of the tomatoes sitting in front of me ready for slicing.

He is toying with his bottom lip, and his smoldering eyes are exploring me from head to toe. I redden even further under his examination. I was not expecting company and am currently in my short jean shorts and stripy red and white cut-off shirt that stops above my navel. My long brown hair is piled messily into a lose ponytail, and due to my uncoordinated boogying most of it has come undone. I am barefoot. Peering down I thank the heavens my toenails are still painted a devilish red. I am wearing my silver toe ring and anklet, but apart from that I have on no other jewelry. Luckily I am wearing a little foundation and mascara but I still look a mess. I disregard my appearance and wonder why Jasper is sitting in my kitchen. How did he get in? And more importantly why is he liquefying my insides with that heated look.

‘Jungle Drum’ by Emiliana Torrini is the next song on my playlist. How appropriate.

Jasper is slouching casually, his legs parted with his fingers interlaced behind his head. He is wearing a black baseball cap turned backwards covering his drool worthy hair. Dressed in tight black jeans and a grey stringer Y-back tank I can clearly see his impressive physique. The low sides on the tank reveal his toned oblique muscles and with his hands propped up that way, his collarbones and upper shoulders look menacing. The curve of his chest is taunting me with all that solidity and I visibly gulp. He looks stunning.

Jasper is absolutely aware that I am mentally molesting him, but he doesn’t seem to care. If his smirk is anything to go by, I dare say he is actually enjoying it. I shake the wicked thoughts from my head, as friends don’t mentally undress their friends as inappropriately as I am right now.

I warily peer into his eyes, and can see he is as affected by me as I am by him which makes zero sense. I clear my throat as the tension between us can be cut with a knife.

“Hi,” I lamely croak.

“Hi.” He doesn’t say anything else, but his look is worth a thousand confusing words. I need to say something to distract myself from all those muscles on display for my viewing pleasure.

“Are you hungry?” In hindsight, probably not the best thing to say with the way Jasper is looking at me.

“You bet,” he replies. His voice is so suggestive, my pulse starts racing like I have just run a marathon.

I cower at the fact that I’m pretty certain he is referring to being hungry; for me. I feel self-conscious and bashful, but more than anything it terrifies me because at the moment I would happily let him devour me.

“Do you eat porn… oh God I meant prawns. Do you eat prawns because I was going to make a prawn cocktail to go with my Salad Nicoise,” I quickly correct myself. Mother of God what the hell? If that wasn’t a Freudian slip then I don’t know what it was.

Jasper lets out a confident chuckle; he doesn’t seem to be fazed by this embarrassing exchange. I on the other hand want to run upstairs and hide.

“That sounds good,” he finally replies after sensing my uneasiness.

I quickly turn around to complete our lunch, thankful for the distraction. I reach for a tomato and begin slicing quickly. I scatter the pieces throughout the salad and arrange everything onto the plate to look mouth-watering. The last addition is the hard boiled eggs which will add that vibrant dash of color, enhancing the presentation. I am lost in thought peeling the eggs but am suddenly distracted by the most delicious scent; it’s a deep masculine fragrance. My breath hitches in my throat as I know Jasper is standing behind me.

I continue peeling the eggs, this I can do. Processing why my heart is beating out of my chest, I cannot.

“Wow you’re really good at that,” he says over my shoulder while I am arranging everything to sit just the way I want. I feel him breathing softly, his breath tickling my neck and I shiver; he must be a lot closer than I thought. What is wrong with me, I question myself. Why am I suddenly so nervous with Jasper being so near?

I take a calming breath. “Thanks, it comes naturally to me.”

I mix the ingredients together for the cocktail sauce, adding a dash of Tabasco. I like my sauce to be a little spicy. Although judging by how I am burning up, I don’t think I need any extra spice.

I arrange the prawns so they are sitting neatly on a bed of shredded lettuce in martini glasses. As I pour the cocktail sauce over each one, I think I’m done. I look at the colorful salad and am proud of my creation.

“That looks amazing.” I turn around and nearly bump into Jasper. I grab the bench behind me for support as we are standing so close.

“Thanks.” It’s all I can say because as I peer up at him, this close, I am winded by his beauty. He has such a sharp strong jaw line with a pronounced chin. He is the epitome of masculinity and I can feel my breath quicken in response to him being so near.

I realize I am staring and should look away but can’t. I am gaping at his luscious lips, appreciating their kiss worthiness. That thought brings me back to earth, as I know I shouldn’t be kissing anyone. I haven’t even figured out where my life is headed, and Jasper’s lips are not going to solve my dilemma. If anything they are going to confuse me further.

But the thing that confuses me the most about Jasper is he doesn’t seem to mind me mentally striping him. This connection between us has been evident from the first moment we met. The air is electric whenever we are in the same room as one another, and that is what I find most puzzling. I should be mourning my breakup with Harper, but Harper is the furthest thing from my mind when I am with Jasper.

But Jasper is my friend and I need to snap through this sexual tension barrier and remember that; no matter how tempting he looks.

Not wanting to think about this further as my head hurts and my stomach is grumbling, I grin with enthusiasm because I am excited for Jasper to try my food.

“Take a seat. It’s ready.”

Jasper takes a step back slowly and heads to the table, while I place our lunch and cutlery on the table.

Jasper takes a bite of the salad and I suddenly feel nervous he might hate it. I bite my lip reevaluating my lunch choice, but Jasper quickly puts my mind at ease.

“It’s fucking awesome,” he says between mouthfuls.

I giggle and take a bite, and am proud to say it is fucking awesome.

After we have taken a few silent bites I bravely ask, “So how long were you subjected to my lack of coordination?” referring to earlier.

“Not long enough,” he replies grinning broadly. I am beyond mortified and lower my eyes.

“V let me in on her way to work,” he continues quickly sensing my mortification and attempting to change the subject.

This is the thing I like the most about Jasper. He always knows what to say to make things less awkward. I on the other hand do not.

I question myself why is he here? I am far from disappointed that he is here, but I think back to V’s comment about Jasper not trying with anyone. But this doesn’t feel like he’s trying, this feels natural.

“Have you always been so talented in the kitchen?” Jasper asks me. I look up at him and realize this is a conversation I never had with Harper. He always used to tease that everyone could cook; I just knew how to jazz it up.

“I never really thought myself to be gifted or talented because I loved being in the kitchen so much, it came effortlessly to me. I just figured everyone could cook but then I witnessed V in the kitchen and realized that wasn’t true.” I chuckle at the memory of my friend trying to make pasta which ended in a fiery disaster.