E. Montes - Perfectly Damaged

“Okay. I can do that.” I stand, walk over, and grab them from her hands, dropping the towel and tossing the outfit on.

“Do you want to wear heels, flats, or sandals?” Charlie asks, twirling to face my shoe collection.

“Sneakers,” I say seriously.

Charlie meets me with a pair of nude flats and hands them to me. “Nope. I will not allow you to look a hot mess on this date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Whatever. Put on the shoes. I have to do your hair and makeup.”

Logan

I’m on the front porch, leaning against the column as I wait for Jenna. Memories of the first time we met float forward from the back of my mind—especially that kiss, which happened to occur on this very porch. Dammit. She wants to keep things clean and friendly, but the thought of that kiss turns my thoughts to anything but. It’s going to be very fucking hard for me to control myself tonight. I’ll try to be good and respect her wishes, but I can’t make any promises.

I hear rather than see the front door open. Leaning forward, I crane my neck and eye the double doors. Both Jenna and Charlie step out, and damn, Jenna looks…well, she looks fucking hot. Although I changed out of my dingy work clothes, I kind of wish I’d had time to go home, take a shower, and get completely ready. Whatever. Straightening, I shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. My heart staggers into a quick beat. What the fuck? I’m nervous. Why? It’s not like I’ve never seen a fucking chick before. Calm the hell down, Logan.

Charlie’s small figure struts up before me. I have to look down to meet her eyes, as if I’m staring at a ten-year-old. With her arms crossed, she sizes me up, scrutinizing. Then she whips her head back to glare at me. “You better be good to my girl, or I’ll be making a few calls and you’ll have a Lorena Bobbitt case on your hands.” She shoots up a brow. “Or should I say…in your pants.”

I wrinkle my brows. This chick is kidding, right?

“Oh my God, Charlie.” Jenna stumbles forward, pushing Charlie with a swat of her hand. “Sorry about that, Logan. Shall we go?”

“Um, sure.” I grab Jenna’s hand and step forward, walking side by side with her down the walkway. I can’t help but look back and sneak a peek at Charlie, who catches me. She gives me an aggressive two-finger eye point, making it clear that she’ll be keeping her eyes on me.

“Your friend is very…” I trail off, trying to find the right words without offending Jenna.

“Weird? Aggressive? Direct? Dramatic?” she finishes for me. “You can choose one, but I’m sure all of the above apply.”

“Yeah. Definitely all of the above.”

She laughs.

We reach my truck. I, being the awesome gentleman I prepared myself to be, open the door and help Jenna into the passenger seat. She thanks me with a slight giggle after I give her a small bow and a knowing, lopsided grin. Then I jog around and slide into the driver seat. “I have something for you,” I say, reaching into the backseat and grabbing the gift. Jenna’s eyebrows slant with curiosity when I hand her a thin, square object wrapped in newspaper. She flips it around in her hand, wondering what it could be. “Sorry about the wrapping,” I say. “It was last-minute and I didn’t have any of that colorful wrapping crap. So I figured newspaper would do just the trick.”

Jenna’s pink, glossy lips twitch into a smile. “What is it?” she asks.

“Open it and find out.”

Hesitantly, she runs her fingers over it, right above the headline regarding Philly’s City budget cuts. Licking her lips, she swipes a finger under a flap, beneath the clear Scotch tape, peeling off the rest of the paper and revealing the album. I take in the charm bracelet resting on her right wrist. She got it back. Yesterday she seemed pissed the hell off with the news regarding her mother having the bracelet this entire time.

I want to ask about it, but then I remember how Jenna said talking about her mother is the equivalent of placing her in a dark hole, so I decide to not mention it—at least not right now. “It’s City of Sound’s Greatest Hits,” I say. “I figured since you like what you’ve heard so far, you’d probably like to hear more from them.”

Jenna tilts her head my way. Her large and beautifully brown eyes gleam in the early evening light. I hope she likes it. Her pouty lips are not smiling, but she’s not frowning either. A vertical line creases between her brows. Her expression seems to be saying a million things, none of which I can decipher. While her eyes hold on to mine, she seems to be reaching deep, trying to read me, to figure me out or something. Finally, she brings a hand up, her fingers play with my stubble jaw, and then she leans in.

Shit.

She’s going to kiss me. I can feel it. I can sense it. I calm my breathing, waiting, hoping for her lips to touch my…

Cheek.

Yeah.

Jenna’s lips, sticky from some kind of gloss, land on the left side of my cheek, just above my jawline. Pulling back, her face inches from mine, her lashes flicker as she meets my stare. Her thumb gently rubs over the kiss mark, removing the lip gloss from my face. “Thank you for the album, Logan. I love it.”

Talk, dickhead.

“Oh, no problem.” I breathe out, bringing my arm up to hang over the steering wheel, hoping it makes me seem smooth.

Moron.

Jenna settles back into her seat, clips on her seatbelt, and looks down at the album in her hand.

“I hope you’re hungry because I’m taking you to the best mom and pop shop in Philly.”

She looks up at me and smiles again. That smile alone is going to drive me insane tonight.

* * *

Pattie’s is definitely not an upscale, fine restaurant, but if you want a good home cooked style meal, it’s definitely the best spot in town. Besides, it’s also close by the next place I want to take Jenna to, which I’m hoping she’ll like.

I help Jenna out of my truck, slipping my hand into hers as we walk, and we keep it that way. She doesn’t pull away and neither do I. I like it. It just feels right. Hand in hand we step into the overly packed, rowdy, small restaurant. I lean down, my lips touching the curve of her ear. “Sorry, I didn’t expect for it to be crowded on a weeknight. But the food is great. I promise you’ll like it.”

Jenna doesn’t say a word. Her eyes sweep over the small surroundings; she seems to be uncomfortable. Her body slightly shudders, and she leans into me, almost cowering as a way to keep close. Her fingers start working at her lip as fear slowly creeps into her eyes. Lifting my hand, I place my palm along her lower back, and twirl her around so her front is facing mine; I pull her toward me without resistance. In fact, her breathing seems to instantly calm, her shaking stops.

And then it starts to makes sense. The day I saw Jenna by the corner street sign and asked her about coming to the lake house, she mentioned how large crowds make her uncomfortable. And when she did make it to the lake house, she was always apart from everyone, distant, always tucked away, alone. To anyone else, it might appear that we’re just two people getting cozy because of how crowded it is in here. But they wouldn’t know that I’ve just put together another piece of the puzzle that is Jenna McDaniel.

Jenna lifts her eyelids, blinking as she looks up at me. There’s a small understanding between us. No words are spoken; they’re not needed. I can feel her discomfort here, and she can sense that I know. I nod once, lifting my hand to the side of her face and rubbing my thumb along her rosy cheek. “Wanna get out of here?” I whisper. She answers with a small nod. “Okay,” I say. I turn around, take her hand in mine again, and keep her close as we exit the place.

We’re settling back into my truck, and I turn the ignition on. I don’t pull away, though. If she feels this uncomfortable here, there’s no way she’ll like the next place. “I was going to take you to this small indie art show, but I think I purchased the last two tickets, which means there’ll probably be a lot of people there.”

“Oh.” Jenna’s voice is small. She looks away, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Logan. It’s just…I have anxiety around large crowds,” she whispers, bringing her head down, embarrassed.

“I figured.”

“I know it’s weird. I’m sorry.”

I chuckle softly. “It’s not weird, Jenna. Trust me, I know people, and they can be creepy fuckers sometimes. I’d freak out too, but I want to keep this badass act up as long as I can.”

She laughs. Good. “You’re so not a badass. You may look it, but you’re more of the good guy hiding behind the bad boy image.”

“Dammit. And here I thought I had everyone fooled. I need to work harder on this image thing.” I scratch the back of my head, trying to figure out what to do for the rest of the night. “I know this twenty-four hour diner that serves the best potato pancakes you’ll ever have in your life. It’s near my apartment. It’s usually crowded for breakfast or at like two or four in the morning, when drunk asses crave munches. But around this time, it’s usually dead. Wanna go there?”

“Okay.”

* * *

Jenna orders the banana French toast and a side of one potato pancake, which I told her was a bad idea because once she tastes it, she’ll want another. I order my usual, the big man breakfast meal, which comes with two of everything: eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, and potato pancakes. Yeah, I’m that hungry. I’ll devour my entire plate and then some.

Like I figured, the diner isn’t too busy. There’s probably a handful of people in the entire place. Jenna and I are seated at a booth in the far back. Though I can tell she feels a bit more comfortable, I still find her looking around. She’s keeping an eye out for something, but I don’t know what. It’s not weird, just different. Her mind always seems to be preoccupied with other thoughts.

“Is it weird we’re having breakfast for dinner?” she asks.

“Nope. Best time to have it, if you ask me,” I say, drowning my pancakes in syrup.

A slight moan escapes those pretty lips of hers when she takes her first bite of the French toast. “You’re right. Best time to have it. I’ve never had breakfast at any other time, never for anything other than breakfast.”

“Well, I like to break the rules sometimes. You know, to keep that bad boy image alive and stuff.”

Jenna leans back in the booth, patting her belly. “I’m stuffed.”

“You barely ate,” I point out.

“I ate half of it. Sorry I can’t clean off my plate like you.” She giggles. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“No problem. It’s my pleasure, really.”

And just like that, it’s like she’s somewhere else, blankly staring at her plate. She lifts her hand to the side of her face, pressing on her cheek.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

Jenna blinks, then looks up at me. “That I don’t know you. That you seem really nice. That I want to know more about you.”

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Where you grew up, your family, your likes and dislikes, everything, Logan.”

I nod, leaning back in the booth. “All right. Uh, let’s see, where can I start? Oh! Once upon a time—”

“I’m serious!” She laughs.

“So am I. Let me tell my story.” She rolls her eyes, then nods. I go on. “Where was I? Ah, yes—once upon a time, there was this small, snot-nosed, pain-in-the-ass kid named Logan Reed. His mother couldn’t handle him. No one even wanted to watch him because everyone believed he was the devil’s sidekick, if not the devil himself.”

Jenna lets out a laugh, adjusting herself a bit to get more comfortable. She crosses her arms on top of the table and leans in. I continue, “But for some strange reason, his mother still loved him. So when it came to his mom, he was a bit of a pussy, or to say it nicer, he was a momma’s boy. His only father figure was and still is his uncle George because his biological father was serving time in prison.”

“Really? I’m sorry, Logan,” Jenna whispers.

“Yeah. It’s cool, though. I can’t complain. I’ve lived a good life. I had a family that always stuck by one another. I was always loved, still am. Just because I didn’t know my father, doesn’t mean my life was ruined. I didn’t blame him for anything. I may have missed out on a lot of things, but not having him in my life doesn’t define who I am now.”

“Where is he now?”