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“Yes and no. There are obvious perks. But like the saying goes, ‘you can’t buy happiness’.”
It made me sad to hear him say that. Was he truly unhappy or just lonely? I snuggled against his side, hugging his arm.
Jake changed the subject. “What would you take on a deserted island? Three items. Go.”
“This flask for one—but only if it was self-filling,” I laughed. The whisky was slowly spreading to my extremities, warming me from the inside out. “Um,” I thought. “Ok.” I held up my fingers, ticking off the three allowed items. “Chapstick, sunblock and my classic hits of the 80’s album.”
Jake laughed. It jostled me slightly but he pulled his arm from my koala hug and placed it around my shoulder, pulling me closer.
A siren blared somewhere down on the streets.
“What would you take?” I countered.
“A knife, matches and water.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a boy scout.”
“I was,” he confirmed.
“Of course, you were,” I giggled. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” I took the opportunity to gently poke at his ribs.
He rested his head against the wall, staring unfocused at the buildings.
“You have to think that hard?” I nudged him, stealing the flask back.
“I got a B+ in trig once,” he finally mustered.
“Big deal. Math is gross.”
His voice became flat. “It’s hard for me to say no.”
I turned, shrugging out of his arm to face him, and sat cross legged near his knee. Jake didn’t seem like he was a yes-man necessarily, but I knew he had a generous heart.
“You feel responsible for making people happy, don’t you?”
In the dim light, his eyes were black pools as they cut to me. “Something like that. I don’t know, I’ve always been the mediator in situations, the even-keel nice guy. It’s easier for me to be objective from both sides. And there are plenty of squabbles that happen on set and off…”
“And as a result, people probably view you as a pushover. ‘Oh, it’s fine, Jake won’t mind…’ or ‘Ask Jake, I’m sure he’d do it,’” I guessed. “Am I close?” I rested my hand on his knee that was stretched out.
“Now that you pointed it out, I think that’s sort of accurate.” I passed him the flask; he earned a shot after being so honest and forthcoming. I wondered if he’d ever admitted that to anyone before.
I lost track of time as he and I chatted about everything and nothing. No subject had been off limits. We were just two people on a rooftop, getting to know one another more.
It would have been easy to check the time, but hours and minutes didn’t matter. We were on a different time—our own time—one that held no restraints. No clock would have been able to govern us.
All I knew was that I was happy. Content. Carefree.
And a bit buzzed.
Standing abruptly (on wobbly legs that had nothing to do with the Stairmaster from hell), I raised the flask in the air like I was toasting a Thanksgiving dinner.
“I have an idea.”
Jake didn’t question me. He too, stood, his eyes glinting with a headiness that wasn’t there a second ago.
“We’re going to play a little game,” I announced, turning to make our way back to the door.
“I’ll follow you,” he vowed in a husky voice.
