Unexpected Desire

Chapter 3

Jamie’s POV

 “I don’t know how I feel about eating so much American food,” I say as I scrape the last bit of noodles from the bottom of the takeout box. And it is true; I was starting to miss the rich taste of Irish dishes. Nowadays, my meals consist of greasy food.

 “Does it matter? This shit goes right through you. Unlike me, who stores it all up right here,” Peter, my one friend that I have been able to make here in Vancouver, pats his stomach. “I swear, I can workout and starve myself at the same time, and this won’t go away."  I roll my eyes and laugh. As far as I could see, his stomach is as almost as flat as mine.

 “You should join me when I workout then,” I reply.

 Peter shakes his head and sticks an eggroll inside his mouth. “I prefer my computer,” he murmurs, his mouth full of food.

 It is my first day off since we started filming and Peter and I decided to hangout at my place and order Chinese. I have no one here in Vancouver so Peter was the only company I have.

 “So, tell me, has it been awkward?” Peter asks.

 “Awkward?”

 “Yeah, you know… the whole pretending to have sex stuff?”

 I laugh and put my now empty box down, “I wouldn’t know. We’re doing all of that kinky stuff until the last few weeks. We haven’t even kissed. Sam wants me and Dakota to get more comfortable with one another, ye know?”

 I get up from the couch and gather everything from the table to dump it in the trash.

 “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense.” Peter turns in his seat to face me, his arm resting on top of the couch. “So how well along are you getting with Dak-, um Dake-…?”

 “Dakota. Her name is Dakota,” I state as I take out two beers from the fridge. I sit back down on the couch and hand Peter one. “To be quite sincere, we’re getting along pretty well. I mean, it’s like we’ve known each other forever and we just met up again. She’s quite sound.”

 “Sound? What the hell does that mean? You know, I still don’t get your Irish slang although I’ve done my fair share of research on it.”

 I keep forgetting that not everyone in Vancouver is from Northern Ireland and I find myself explaining my speech to a lot of people, most of those times only to Peter.

 “Sound just means she’s easy going. She likes to laugh a lot.”

 “How would you describe me in your country?” Peter curiously asks.

 I sip my on my beer, pretending to think about his question.

 After a while, I respond with, “You would be described as… an arse.”

 “Fuck you,” he glares at me and drinks. I chuckle to myself. “In all seriousness though, is she hot?”

 “Is who hot?”

 “Dakota. I mean, I’ve looked her up and seen her work but that’s through a screen, I’m quite sure it’s different when you see her face to face.”

 “You’re sick,” I retort, changing my face expression to one of disgust.

 “It’s just research!” he defends.

 I begin to think about what he asked. Is she hot? I force my brain to recall her face and the image of her laughing quickly flashes in front me. I don’t think “hot” does her enough justice. In a way, I feel like that word might even offend her.