Chapter 2: The Dinner Confession
The bistro was the kind of place that tried too hard. Fake candles flickering on every table, waiters in starched white aprons, a menu with no prices because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it. Jack hated it. Tanya loved it. That pretty much summed up their entire relationship.
He'd arrived ten minutes early, which never happened, and spent the time scrolling through his phone without seeing anything. His thumb kept drifting toward his messages, toward the thread with Tanya, then past it, to nothing. He didn't have Alexis's number. Didn't need it. She was just his roommate. Some girl who happened to be in his space.
Some girl who called him Daddy and looked at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Tanya walked in at seven-fifteen, which meant she was fifteen minutes late and didn't care. She looked good—she always looked good—in a burgundy dress that hugged her waist and heels that made her legs go on forever. Jack stood to kiss her, and she offered her cheek instead of her lips. A small thing. The kind of thing that meant everything.
"Hey," she said, sliding into the booth across from him.
"Hey yourself."
She picked up the menu, even though they both knew she'd order the same thing she always got—chicken piccata, no capers, extra lemon. Jack watched her scan the appetizers and felt nothing. Not the warm rush of familiarity he used to get. Not the low hum of attraction. Just the flat, dull weight of going through motions.
"How was move-in?" Tanya asked without looking up.
"Fine."
"Get everything unpacked?"
"Mostly."
She set the menu down and fixed him with a look. "You're being weird."
"I'm always weird."
"No. You're always quiet. That's different."
Jack picked up his water glass and took a long drink. The ice clinked against his teeth. He thought about Alexis bending over her desk, the curve of her spine, the way her jeans had seemed to melt onto her skin. He thought about the wink. The smirk. The word Daddy curling through the air like smoke.
"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Tanya's voice had gone soft. Careful. Like she was handling something fragile.
"Nothing's wrong."
"Bullshit."
"Tanya—"
"No, seriously. You've been off for weeks. Months, maybe. Ever since—" She stopped. Bit her lip. "Ever since that night."
Jack knew exactly which night she meant. The night she'd pushed him away after round two, tears in her eyes, saying she couldn't do it anymore. Not that way. Not like he needed. He'd held her, told her it was fine, that they'd figure it out. Then he'd gone to the bathroom and jerked off thinking about nothing in particular, just the release, just the need.
"I told you," he said. "It's fine."
"It's not fine. You walk around like you're about to crawl out of your skin. You look at me like—" She stopped again, and this time her eyes were wet. "Like you're already gone."
The waiter appeared. Tanya ordered the piccata. Jack ordered the risotto, because it was the first thing his eyes landed on. When the waiter left, the silence stretched between them like a rubber band about to snap.
"I love you," Tanya said quietly. "You know that, right?"
"I know."
"Do you love me?"
The question hit him in the chest. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he had to think about it. Actually think. For the first time in two years, he had to pause and search for the word, and that pause was answer enough.
"Of course I do."
Tanya shook her head. "You hesitated."
"I didn't—"
"You did. I saw it."
Jack leaned back in the booth. The candle flickered between them, throwing shadows across Tanya's face. She was beautiful. She was kind. She was everything he should have wanted.
But she couldn't keep up. And they both knew it.
"Look," he said, keeping his voice low. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm trying here."
"Trying isn't enough anymore." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I can't be what you need. I've tried. God, I've tried. But you want—" She gestured vaguely. "You want something I can't give you. And every time we're together, I feel like I'm failing. Like I'm not enough."
"You are enough."
"Stop lying to me."
The words cut through the restaurant's ambient hum. A couple at the next table glanced over. Jack didn't care. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping even lower.
"You want the truth? Fine. I don't know what I want. I don't know who I am right now. But I know I don't want to lose you."
Tanya laughed. It wasn't a happy sound. "That's not the same as wanting me."
Jack had no response. Because she was right.
They sat in silence while the food came. Tanya picked at her chicken. Jack moved his risotto around the plate without eating. The candles burned lower. The restaurant emptied out around them, couples paying their checks and heading into the night.
"You should go," Tanya said finally. "I'll take an Uber."
"I can drive you."
"I don't want you to."
Jack nodded. He pulled out his wallet, dropped cash on the table—more than enough—and stood. Tanya didn't look up.
"Call me," she said. "When you figure out what you want."
He walked out into the cool night air. Streetlights buzzed overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed and faded. He stood on the sidewalk for a long moment, hands in his pockets, breath fogging in front of his face.
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it out, expecting Tanya. It wasn't Tanya.
Unknown: hey roomie. hope dinner wasn't too boring. come home. i found a two-player game you'll like.
Jack stared at the screen. He hadn't given Alexis his number. Then again, she had access to his student records. His contact info. Everything.
Another message.
Unknown: don't make me play by myself. it's not as fun.
He typed back before he could stop himself.
Jack: how'd you get my number?
Unknown: i have my ways ;)
Jack: that's creepy.
Unknown: you love it.
He didn't reply. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and started walking. The dorm was a fifteen-minute walk from the restaurant. He told himself he was just heading back to his room. That was all. Just going home.
But his pace quickened as he got closer. And when he pushed through the glass doors of the dormitory, nodded at the front desk attendant, climbed the stairs two at a time—he told himself it was because he was tired. Needed sleep. Had an early practice tomorrow.
The hallway outside Room 214 was quiet. The vending machine hummed. The lights flickered.
Jack put his hand on the doorknob and paused.
From inside, he could hear music playing. Something soft and low. And beneath it, Alexis's voice, humming along, occasionally laughing at something on her screen.
He opened the door.
Alexis was curled up on her bed, laptop balanced on her knees, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and those impossibly tight jeans. No. Not jeans. Leggings. Black ones that shimmered in the monitor's glow.
She looked up when he walked in. Smiled like she'd been waiting.
"Hey, Daddy. You're home early."
Jack closed the door behind him.
"Yeah," he said. "I am."