One Look At You Read Online Free Page B

Trader Joe’s. Jen loves their cookie butter spread, and I like that their bread comes in smaller portions.
    Upon my entering the apartment, Jen gets up from the couch to hug me.
    “What’s going on?” I ask, puzzled at her unusual gesture.
    “Nothing. I feel like crap, knowing you were trying to reach me yesterday and I didn’t pick up.”
    “That’s alright. Mark answered.”
    “I think my phone was on vibrate or something. I was so tired that I slept the whole morning. Then, when I woke up, you were sleeping, so I thought it best not to bother you.” As she says this, she has an expression of guilt on her face.
    “Yeah, I took Mark’s advice and slept off my exhaustion.”
    She looks at me as if waiting for more information.
    “What?” The question comes out unintentionally loud, even a little angry.
    “If you don’t want to discuss it, it’s fine,” she says, losing her nerve after my outburst.
    “Oh, Jen, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to discuss it. There’s really nothing I can tell you.”
    “For starters, you can tell me how you hooked up with Mr. Gorgeous,” she says with a laugh.
    “I’m not sure who you’re talking about,” I say with some uncertainty.
    “Livie! Who else am I talking about but the guy you were dancing with? You know, the guy who was eyeing you from the bar?” Jen thinks I’m playing with her.
    Images come to me. The man at the bar. The man who joined me on the dance floor. The same man who was next to me in bed. Why can’t I remember exactly what happened? It’s like having only a few jigsaw puzzle pieces in place. The smaller, more important ones are hidden somewhere or hopelessly lost.
    Jen sees my face and instantly touches my arm in concern. “What’s wrong?”
    “I don’t remember anything from Saturday night,” I say truthfully. “I mean, I remember bits and pieces, but not the important stuff,” I continue.
    “I don’t know what to say.” Clearly, she’s sympathetic to my plight, but other than feel sorry for me, what can she say or do?
    “I know.” It’s my turn to hug her. Jen is a sensitive soul, but she also gets easily rattled or upset. There’s only so much negativity she can handle.
    “I actually thought the two of you had hit it off. You were so giddy, and the two of you were all over each other on the dance floor. The chemistry was so obvious.”
    I frown at her words. It makes sense, though, for my judgment and reason to have been impaired by alcohol. What Jen thought was chemistry was just me acting out irresponsibly, even dangerously. An image flashes before my eyes. We were slow-dancing and his hands were on my bottom, holding me tight against him. I shake my head from side to side, wanting to remember more, and yet afraid of what came next. My heart feels like it skips a beat. From the corner of my eye, I see Jen looking at me with distress, so I pretend to smile to set her mind at ease.
    “You really don’t remember?” she asks again, unable to believe that I had a blackout.
    “It’s okay. I’m sure everything will come back to me soon.” We both remain quiet.
    “Chocolate peanut butter?” she asks after some time, knowing that’s my go-to food when I’m feeling low.
    “Haagen-Dazs?”
    “Of course!” she says smilingly.
    “Why not?” Burying my frustration in a bowl of delicious, calorie-filled ice cream may just do the trick. We go to the kitchen to grab a pint, some ice cream bowls, and spoons. We eat standing up while leaning on the counter.
    “Hmmm,” I murmur with delight. “Every single time.”
    “I know, right?” she agrees wholeheartedly.
    “Wait, you never told me what happened with…” I pause because I’m unable to remember his name.
    “Max?” she readily provides his name. I nod.
    “Ugh. Don’t go there. It was a friendly encounter. Nothing more. Drinking buddies and dancing partners. It was fun, but ‘just friends’ fun.”
    “Are you sure? I kinda remember you smiling a