Jay Walking Read Online Free

doesn't need to hear this conversation and my total failure of having a meaningful relationship, much less discussion, with a member of the opposite sex.
    "I didn't, Amber. I talked him for like ten minutes!" I'm clueless about everyone else, but I sure don't develop a love connection after a few tiny moments. Sure, Jay is cute — super cute — but that doesn't automatically make him dating material. Besides, I fell on my ass right in front of him, which is a little detail I left out. I told Amber I bumped into him and after I said sorry, we began chatting. I'm not sure how I feel about him anyway. I suppose his sarcasm is cute, and said to anyone else, I'd be laughing. I can't decide if I think he's funny or a jerk. Even still, I can't stop thinking about him.
    "Ryan! Ryan!" Amber snaps her fingers at the Mark Paul Gosselaar look alike. "Are you listening to this?"
    He moves his eyes from his phone momentarily. "Trying not to."
    I've never met a guy who texts as much as Ryan. He never eats lunch. He sits at the table and slides his fingers across the keyboard as though playing a fancy tune on the piano. He's the Bach of texting. I usually catch him eating a string cheese in the morning, and a bag of pretzels in the afternoon, topped off with a Mountain Dew he got from the vending machine during his daily walk there with Amber. Yep. It's like an official standing date between those two. The minute the displays on our phones change to 3:00, they rise simultaneously from their chairs and meet at the first cubicle wall to go to the vending machine. I can't call her out in front of Ryan, but hopefully at his Labor Day bash those two will finally succumb to their obvious infatuation with each other.  
    "So Chelsea's out taking a walk yesterday, literally bumps into this guy. They start chatting and he buys her coffee." Amber doesn't need to include Ryan in our conversation. He dates a different girl every other week and his daily vending machine visits with Amber is the longest relationship he's had. I don't put much weight into his thoughts.
    He shrugs, never looking up from his phone. "So?" I'm sure he played football in high school with those broad shoulders.  
    "So! Would you buy a coffee for a girl you didn't like?" I'm sure Ryan purchased something for her on one of their vending machine dates and this is her grade school way of finding out if that means he likes her.
    My heart races as I wait for a response, yet at the same time, I don't want an answer. If Ryan says no, I'm crushed and embarrassed by even thinking I may see this guy again. If he says yes, then my mind will go crazy trying to think of how to track him down again.  
    "No," he says, and my heart deflates. "But I wouldn't buy coffee anyway. Disgusting."
    "That's not the point, silly!" Amber's voice squeaks, bringing me back to fifth grade. If Ryan is as clueless as I think about Amber's feelings, he's not the one I should be getting dating advice from.  
    He tosses his phone on the table. "Fine." He scratches the five o'clock shadow on his face and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "No, I wouldn't buy a drink for someone I wasn't at least a little interested in. You should have thrown some signals his way and maybe he would have asked you out."
    Did I want this guy to ask me out? I only met him momentarily and that's not a lot of time to decide if I want to spend more than an hour with someone. "Do guys like when a girl does the asking?" It's been so long — too long — since I've even entertained the opportunity of a date.
    "Of course they do!" Amber jumps in. "I do it all the time."
    This is true. Whenever she tells me about a night out at the bar, she usually includes some story about her approaching a man and striking up a conversation. Sometimes this leads to a phone number, or even a one-night stand, never a relationship. Though since her divorce (after a mere seven months of marriage), she's been sort of a commitment-phobe herself.