The Jake: Part 2

He is grinning, as he steps out of the cab. Catches my eye, grins wider.

There is no bravado in his swagger as he walks up to meet me, waiting outside Johnny Fox's. Leans in and kisses me on the cheek, his hand resting on my arm a fraction longer than neccessary, the simple kiss burning against my skin.

I watch his hands, his slender figures busy as he speaks, tapping at the table, rolling his beer mat across the table.
He is frankly honest, refreshingly unapologetic. He has no qualms about who he is, confident without arrogance.

All he wants, he says, breaking away and smiling at the cheery bartender as he delivers our drinks, is that beachfront property in South America. All he wants is to be able to walk out his front door and surf. Has worked hard, makes sure that everyday a certain amount of energy goes into having fun.
He leans forward, absent mindedly reaches out and wraps one of my curls around his finger, softly kisses me. Pulls away grinning.

I am trying to slow my heartbeat, remain calm and collected.
He remains a perfect gentleman, not rushing anything. Flagging down a passing cab to see me safely home.

Later, when we reach my flat I invite him up for one beer, on the patio. We stay up late, talking about fate and buddhism, my impeding move, job interviews and a list of things new and upcoming.
That ex who once, I laughingly recall, told me I wasn't conventionally attractive - there was just something *about me...*
He looks at me for a minute, suddenly uncertain and says I am the prettiest girl he's seen all night. I try to remain calm, when he leans over to kiss me again. Holds my face, gently brushes his thumb across my bottom lip.

I am sober enough to remember this, to feel everything. Yet it still feels too surreal, enables me to think differently this time.

To make the decision to take this slow, and call him a cab.

The next day I cannot eat, fight my insecurity off and remind myself that I am entitled to happiness. Try to stop myself from questioning why and what and how he sees in me, quell the panic in my stomach.
When he signs off his mail with *good luck with everything new*, he is gone again for 10 days, I clench my fists against my fear, try not to read it as something negative but simply for what it is.

Good luck with everything new.