Chapter Text
The two tequila sodas aren’t enough to explain how drunk in love Samira feels tonight.
The windows are cracked, the breeze is flowing through Jack’s car, and Spotify shuffle has had immaculate vibes for their drive so far.
It’s all perfect.
Jack has one hand on the wheel and one hand in hers. She has to tell herself to relax, to not say every moronic thing that comes to her mind.
She’s vibrating. And she would feel more self conscious about it if he wasn’t wearing the biggest grin himself. She has literally never seen Jack Abbot smile this much. She’s responsible and she wants to take a picture so she can remember every detail.
He gets off the highway and she notices the Philly skyline ahead of them, the summer sun only now starting to lower in the buildings’ reflections.
The hotel he chose is an upscale chain with valet parking but no breakfast buffet. He pulls into the entrance and the car is instantly surrounded by attendants. He tosses the keys to one and another offers to bring all their bags up to their room. Jack assents, adds “and the crutches, thanks,” before signing the slip the attendant proffers.
“Shall we?” He gestures to Samira, who has been waiting for him on the other side of the car, near the revolving doors. He encircles her waist as soon as he is close enough and she needs it. She is beginning to feel a little out of place, fearing that people will question what she’s doing here and her relationship to this man.
She isn’t sure how she would tackle that question.
No one asks, seemingly accepting them as the couple they appear to be. The desk is overtaken by frazzled but kind staff who are explaining apologetically that they had a laundry issue and Jack’s room isn’t ready even though it’s almost 8pm, long past the 3pm check in time.
The staff encourages them to get dinner and promises they will have their room ready and their bags waiting for them there when they return. They even throw in some room service credit for breakfast tomorrow.
“We are so sorry,” the main desk clerk says and Jack brushes her off. “It’s fine, really. We’re not in any rush tonight. Do you have any recommendations for somewhere close by to get dinner? I promised this lady some carbs.”
Samira chuckles good naturedly, seeing the women at the desk observing them with intrigue. She’s enjoying the way she and Jack look together through their gaze. Tonight, Jack is wearing a light lavender shirt under a navy blue suit and the color really brings out his eyes, something Samira has noted repeatedly this evening. His jacket is just fitted enough that you can make out his build. She knows she looks good too. The dress is one of her favorites, in a wine color that she knows looks effortlessly gorgeous against her skin. The open, low back has always made her feel sexy and it has not failed her with how many times Jack has run his hands over her already tonight. If she had known that he would love her in this dress so much, she would have found some reason to wear it into her 7am shift sooner.
The concierge, Anna, according to her nametag, takes out a small card and writes a name and directions on it. “If you guys feel like Italian tonight, this place, Nonna’s, is a 5-minute walk down Broad and you probably won’t have to wait to be seated. The food is delicious and it’s very romantic, especially the back patio. They are BYOB but there’s a great wine shop next door that has an impressive curation. You can pick something up there.”
Samira sees Jack look over at her to see how that resonates with her. “That sounds perfect,” she says to Anna. It does.
“Make sure to get the tiramisu,” Anna says. “I’m from South Philly and I promise you it’s the real deal.”
***
When they walk into the wine shop, Jack smiles and heads for the salesperson behind the counter, primed to ask for recommendations.
Samira follows the well laid out signs and makes a beeline towards the back to start scanning the shelves.
“Are you looking for something specific?” Jack asks, catching up to her as she lingers somewhere over by Napa.
“Did I ever tell you that I worked at a wine store my last few years of college?,” she asks as he peers over her shoulder.
He laughs. “No, but I think it’s fair to say I’m learning a lot about you tonight, Samira.”
“There’s this vineyard run by these two badass queer women. They are all about environmental sustainability and anticolonialism. And, of course, the wine is delicious. They do these limited drops. I’ve been wanting to check out this pinot noir and, luckily, they have it here.”
She plucks a bottle off a shelf and shows him the label. “We’re getting this.”
“No opposition here,” he says, sounding amused. “Just how long have you been waiting to try this?”
It has been a very long time if she's being honest. She hadn’t even realized that she had catalogued this idea, had denied herself something special in the hope that she would have someone else to share it with.
“It’s not something you pick up from the grocery store for a night alone in front of the tv,” Samira says.
“And tonight is that special occasion?,” he asks genuinely but teasingly, reaching to take the bottle from her. “Should I be flattered?”
“Yes,” she says without pretense, but draws back her hand, holding the bottle against her chest and away from him. “You should absolutely be flattered.”
“This is on me,” Samira adds, turning to head back towards the cashier.
“Samira, no,” he grabs her wrist to stop her walking away. “This is … are you really going to make me say it? This is our first date and it’s expensive. I should…”
He stops talking at her raised eyebrows, the small smirk she shoots his way.
“What?,” he sputters, sensing her judgment.
“Thank you for your offer,” she says quietly. “But no.”
She hesitates at his confusion, the possible hurt on his face. She knew this would be uncomfortable but she feels strongly about it. Call it residual trauma from their workplace, which she doesn’t want to bring up, but she doesn’t want to have to only follow his lead tonight.
Still, she knows he’s old school and of course he will want to pay for everything. That thought tickles her, makes her smile and feel cared for. She loves that he wants to do that for her but she also can’t give in.
She’s not crazy. She understands the difference between a resident’s salary and his attending one. It’s the entire reason she’s supposed to be on a bus right now and he had booked a hotel room in downtown Philly to attend a party. But this particular choice is meaningful to her, something that she wants to give to him.
“This is my contribution to tonight, Jack. I’m grateful for all you're doing to make tonight special. But I don’t need you to sweep me off my feet. I want to be here. I’m choosing to be here with you. And I want to help make this night memorable for us. Let me do this one small thing.”
“I … I don’t know what to say,” he responds finally, sounding humbled and careful. “I like taking care of you. It’s who I am and what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. I don’t mean to imply that we’re not equals or partners …”
“I know,” she interrupts, wanting to reassure him. “I promise I know who you are. But I am who I am too. I’m stubborn and I have boundaries and this is important to me.”
He meets her eyes, holds them for a beat and then smiles. “Thank you,” he finally says to end their silly impasse. “I appreciate you sharing this with me and I’m looking forward to seeing if this long-awaited bottle lives up to your expectations.”
She grins at him. They both know they are talking about more than just the wine.
Back at the cashier, the salesperson gives Samira an approving nod as she sets the bottle down on the counter. “Nice choice. A special occasion?,” she asks, addressing the question to both of them.
“We’re having dinner at Nonna’s. And, as he just reminded me, tonight is technically our first date.” Samira tells her.
“Technically?” the salesperson asks. “You guys seem so cozy together. This must be a good story. Spill.”
Samira looks at Jack standing behind her, just as interested in her answer. “We’ve known each other for a few years and ran into each other unexpectedly at a party tonight. The host is a mutual friend. We talked for a bit and then we … decided to leave early … together.”
The salesperson is thrilled, practically claps her hands. “So were there new sparks tonight or was there always something there?”
“You first,” Samira says, chuckling at Jack. She hears the salesperson also laugh.
“I’ve always noticed her,” Jack says, sounding earnest. “She never gave me a second glance.”
“That’s not true!” Samira counters, aggrieved because there is so much context that neither of them will name. “There were many glances. But I wasn’t thinking about romance, with anyone. And then one day, I woke up and he was all I could think about. Tonight feels serendipitous.”
“Is that true?” Jack asks, remembering a second too late that they are having this conversation in front of the lady at the counter who seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself at their expense.
Samira can tell he wants to ask a million more questions, when, how, why, how long, but she leaves all his questions hanging in the air as she hands over her ID and makes quick work of tapping her phone to pay the $65 total.
“Looks like you have a lot to talk about tonight,” the salesperson says, catching on that Samira won’t be saying anymore and excusing herself from their conversation. “Enjoy dinner, guys. Thanks for stopping in.”
They exit the store but apparently Jack won’t, can’t, let the conversation drop. He stops walking without saying anything. It takes Samira a moment to realize that he’s not a step behind her as he has been most of the night.
She stops, sensing his absence, and turns to find him.
He’s a words of affirmation guy, she has come to learn. As clear as it is to everyone in the room that he’s a rockstar, he likes hearing it, basks in the words, often adding to the adulation himself. He’s cocky but not conceited. Because the praise is always earned.
He needs to hear her say the words even if he doesn’t doubt her feelings. And she can give him that even if it's not something that comes naturally to her.
“Hey, Jack Abbot,” she calls to him. “I’ve been waiting a long time to go on a date with you. And I’m hungry. Can we eat dinner? I’ll tell you all about the stolen glances across rooms and just how many times I’ve made up an excuse to talk to you. And after two glasses of wine,” she adds holding up the bottle she just purchased, “I’ll probably confess to a lot more.”
“Deal?”