Teach Me How To Date (A Chick Lit Novel)

Chapter 2

"Relax, Sam. Jenko has enough experience in this department. He's dated a lot of women, remember? Maybe even half of the women in San Francisco. Okay, probably just a quarter. So that means he knows his stuff. If anyone can help you, it's him." 

I probably looked like a loon rambling out loud while pacing back and forth on Jenko's doorstep, but I couldn't bring myself to stop.

After my coffee date with Liz, which ended with her getting frustrated with me, I decided to go back to the apartment complex I lived in. Only instead of heading to my unit, I went straight to Jenko's.

Since he didn't come to his coffee shop today, I had to seek him out. I figured he was home, seeing that his car was parked in front of his apartment all along. 

Only now instead of knocking, I was still  stuck in his doorstep, pep-talking myself. 

Didn't I already decide it felt weird to address myself in the second person?

Apparently, my mouth didn't agree with my brain.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and just about to finally knock when the door suddenly swung open.

"Sam?"

I snap my eyes open. "Jenko!"

With his over six-feet frame, Jenko easily towered over my 5'6". I could strain my neck by just staring up at him. 

Exactly six foot two of absolute gorgeousness - if I was being honest.

Dark blond hair which, at the moment, was wet and fell around his head in a tousled way, like he just came out of the shower (He probably was, considering I could practically smell the soap in his skin.); deepblue eyes, prominent cheek bones and of course, a perpetually-peppered-with-a-day-old-stubble jaw.

Jenko had never been one of those guys who went to the gym to get fit. Running was his only form of exercise. But based on the finely-toned muscles he had under his polo shirt, it worked for him just fine.

Jenko cleared his throat and I realized that I was now staring at his crotch.

Ack! Did I just check out his manly parts?

Way to go, eyes. Way to go.

Fighting back a blush, I cleared my throat in return. Better play it casual than embarass myself even more. "You weren't in your coffee shop today."

Being a good friend that he is, Jenko didn't laugh. He didn't even comment. And I couldn't tell whether he was amused or not. If he was, he hid it well.

Instead, he just shrugged and gestured toward his living room. "Come on in."

"Thanks," I muttered and walked through the door.

I've been inside Jenko's apartment countless of times before. But everytime I was there, I couldn't help comparing his place to mine. Since we lived in a one-storey, five-unit apartment complex, our units are pretty much identical. One bedroom, one bathroom, and a small cozy space that combined the living room and the kitchen.

The only difference was that Jenko's furniture was a lot nicer than mine. He had a flat screen television while I had to make do with an old-school TV I bought from a surplus store. Even his sectional couch was comfier than my futon. If there was one thing that could rival his couch though, it would be my cushiony single-seater sofa. Still, unlike mine, his couch came with a stylish coffee table that had a built-in magazine shelf. I, on the other hand, had to beg my mother to let me have her old center table. It was a little wobbly and creaked a bit. But it complimented my futon and single-seater just fine. So no complaints there.