His Name Is Jake Saunders

It Gets Awkward At The Club

It was out of desperation or anger or frustration; one of the three or a combination, either way, I asked Luke out, but I hadn't clarified that it wasn't a date by the end of the call. I just said, 'yup, I'll totally go out with you!' not even thinking that he'll take it as an acceptance of a date. I only said it in a way where I'm just hanging out with friends. Luke is a friend. He is! Don't give me that look! Like I said, he's barely a friend; we don't even know each other and are friends of friends. We're acquaintances. Yes, I know, people go out on dates to get to know each other. Bump up the acquaintance level to something more special. But this is not a date.

"Just to clarify," I began, "this isn't a date." I had to tell him. I couldn't very well lead him on with me on the sidelines of the inevitable crash unfolding.

Luke furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when I called you up, I didn't mean to go out on a date with you. We're just hanging out."

The corner of Luke's mouth curved upwards. "Sophia, it's totally fine. I'm not coming on to you if you don't want it." He laughed then. "What I mean to say is, I think that ship has sailed; you know," he shrugged, "on your own time."

"Oh," I said, simply. "Okay." Why did it feel as a little shock to think he could possibly move on from me? Did I expect him to want me forever? No. But I wanted him to want me just a little longer. Is that weird?

The club was what I had expected. Loud. Off the bat the purple and blue neon lights bounced off walls and people, illuminating the crowd in a way that made them all look like ripples of jell-o. Light bulbs had fluoro lava waving back and forth; most were ridden along the shelves displaying an array of browns, blues and clear liquids. In other words, my sanctuary to calm my nerves.

"What are you having?" Luke asked.

But I couldn't tear my attention away. Why, why, why is he here!? Why was Jake here!? Just to ruin my night it seemed. When Jake spotted me, he made his way through the crowd, as effortlessly as a hawk gliding down and sauntering its prey. I wanted to look away, I had to, but I couldn't. I should have. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

"Well, well, well," Jake smiled, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

I wrapped my arm through Luke's. Meanwhile, Luke cocked his head in confusion at my getting touchy feely all of a sudden. "Luke, Jake; Jake, Luke."

"I'm her boss," Jake stuck out his hand.

"He's not, actually. I work for his father."

Luke nodded, smiling obliviously. "Ah, the enigmatic Jake. I hear Robert is quite the businessman."

"As am I," Luke said, his eye twitching, annoyed that Luke wasn't intimated by him. A man who was neither working for Jake, in need of Jake, benefitting from Jake will probably never be intimidated by Jake. Perhaps, I mean, it can't be said of all men. I've seen some guys' knees buckle at the sight of him. Straight guys, that is.

Jake eyed my arm through Luke's and then smiled at me. "On a date?"

"No actually—" Luke said at the same time I said, "Yes, we are!"

Ugh, I've become that girl. That girl that uses one of her friends (acquaintances) to make another guy jealous. How sickening?

More importantly, how do I rectify this awkward mix up?