âYou remember to write down the orange juice one?â
âNo, actually. I forgot.â
He licks his fingers and comes over. I kick a little more frantically, because, well, explaining them is going to be awkward. Jack grabs my pen and the orange pad and scribbles on it.
Note to self: Get a second carton of OJ for Jack.
âNoted.â I pull the square off the pad and drop it on the floor with the others.
âWhy is my name on the pink notes?â
âAnd Mitchâs on the yellow?â He turns toward me. His face is dangerously close to mine, and thereâs a glint in his eyes thatâ¦ Well, I donât know what it is, but it sure as fuck isnât good.
âI wasâ¦drawing up a pros-and-cons list,â I mutter.
âSeems to be a helluva lot more yellow than pink, baby.â
âWell, in my defense, half of Mitchâs say âfucked my cousin,â which adds to his total.â I smile weakly.
âAll right, I think Iâm gonna regret askinâ this.â Jack sits up straight. âWhy are you making pros-and-cons lists?â
I open my mouth and close it again. Shit. I was kind of hoping to avoid this conversation.
âPromise you wonât get mad,â I say softly, looking down.
âM, talk to me.â
âIâ¦â I swallow, sensing that thatâs the closest to an agreement Iâm going to get. âI saw Mitch earlier.â
I wait, but Jack says silent.
âI asked him why he was outside my apartment yesterday.â
âDoesnât take a fuckinâ genius to work it out,â Jack grinds out.
âHe wants me back.â I look at the TV. âHeâ¦doesnât seem to understand that Iâm not in love with him.â
âYou sure about that, Macey?â
I frown, snapping my eyes to Jack, whoâs now leaning against the table. âOf course Iâm sure!â
âYeah? âCause you donât seem to hesitate running to him when he comes knockinâ at your door.â
âWhat are you saying?â I stand up slowly, my stomach twisting at his words and the implications of them.
âAccording to you, he broke your heart so fucking badly that you hate him. Yet, when he knocks at your door or hangs out outside your apartment, youâre not exactly hesitant when it comes to runninâ after him to see what the fuck he wants. Yet you canât call me.â Jack turns slowly. âThatâs what Iâm fuckinâ saying.â
âAccording to me?â The words fall from me in disbelief. âAccording to me? You think I want him here, fucking with me again? You think I want to sit there and listen to him declare his seemingly endless love for me while begging me in the same breath to give him another goddamn chance?â
Jack pushes off from the table and walks to the door. His fingers curl around the handle and he looks at me, his green eyes on fire, so angry that theyâre sending tremors through my body. âYou answer him?â
âHe begged for another chance. Did. You. Fucking. Answer. Him?â