Jay gets to know her more

I’ve started gaming the app a little. I try to stick around the areas of the restaurants she usually orders from, and if one comes up, I grab it just in case it’s her. Most of the time it’s not, but today, on a Saturday afternoon of all times, the stars finally line up. A big order pops up from that Mexican restaurant I see her frequently order from, and it’s enough food to probably feed twenty people easy. When I claim it, the delivery address is hers.

Jackpot, motherfucker!

I pull up to the house and immediately see the decorations. Balloons are even tied to the mailbox at the end of their driveway. I stack as many of the insulated bags on top of each other as I’m comfortable with, and head to the door.

Sofia opens the door before I even get to it. She’s in a simple black tank top that hugs her full breasts and shows off her smooth golden shoulders and arms, paired with high-waisted jeans. Her hair is in a high ponytail, and this time the strands appear to be intentional in how they frame her face. She’s wearing minimal makeup and her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes are brighter than they’ve been in weeks, though right now they appear to be a bit stressed.

“Oh my God, Jay, hi,” she says, sounding relieved to see me and stepping back from the door. “I’m so sorry, this is a huge order. Would you mind bringing it inside? The kitchen island is right through there.”

“Yeah, no problem at all.”

I step inside her house for the first time, and it’s impressive how much it opens up. There are high ceilings, an open floor plan, and a sleek marble island in a kitchen that’s easily the size of the kitchen and living room of my apartment, plus some. Everything is spotless except for the organized chaos of what appears to be party prep. She’s got colorful cups and plates stacked, a sheet cake on the counter, along with streamers that look like she’s laid out to be hung.

I set the bags down where she points, quickly go grab the rest, and then start unloading all the food while she busies herself, pulling out serving spoons.

“So, what’s the occasion?” I ask, trying to make small talk.

She purses her lips and blows at a strand of hair, flicking her head to try and get it out of her face. “It’s Mateo’s fifth birthday.” It seems like she should be happy, but she doesn’t really seem like it, and there’s the faintest roll on the r that I’ve never heard from her before. “And of course Carlos told his boss he’d be in the office today for some bullshit client thing that ‘couldn’t wait until Monday.’ Claro, pobrecito bebé, tan urgente, couldn’t wait until after his own son’s party, apparently. But what else is new, right? Work always comes first.” I don’t fully understand what she’s saying, but it didn’t exactly sound sincere.

I listen as the words come out in an accent that gets a little thicker the more she talks, and seems to grow with an equal amount of sarcasm. She catches herself almost immediately after speaking, and puts both of her palms flat on the cool marble countertop, dropping her head between her shoulders for a second. When she straightens up, she takes a deep breath, reaches up and pulls at her ponytail, tightening it, and setting her face with feigned composure.

“I’m sorry,” she says stiffly, meeting my eyes with a small, embarrassed smile. “That was… really inappropriate. You don’t need to hear me vent about my husband.”

I shake my head. “Hey, no apology needed. I imagine it’s gotta suck. A kid’s fifth birthday is a big deal. No? I’d think he’s gotta be pretty disappointed for missing any of the party too.”

She lets out a quick unrestrained “Hmph,” before catching herself again. “Hm. Yup, I’m sure he is.”

For a moment, we’re just standing there in the kitchen, with music playing and the distant sound of kids laughing somewhere deeper in the house. I stand there, trying to figure out how to respond, when she finally moves again to finish stacking the last containers and wipes her hands on a paper towel before handing me one as well.

“Um, anything else I can help with?” I ask.

She hesitates, looking around, then toward the living room like she’s trying to decide on something, then just shakes her head.

“No. No, you’ve already done more than enough by setting all of this out. Thank you though, Jay. Seriously.”

I nod, dragging out the moment, not wanting to leave. “Of course, I’m always happy to help. Oh! And happy birthday to Mateo.”

For the first time today, her smile actually seems to be genuine when she peers at me through her lingering frustration. “I’ll tell him the nice delivery guy said so.”

Unable to think of any reason to stick around, I head back toward the door with the image of her standing back there bracing her hands on the counter. I take one last glance around, having never been in a house this big or nice.

Taking off, I end up cruising past a Target hours later. Needing to pick up something for my apartment, I run inside. Walking by the toy aisle, I back up and cruise through, seeing what they’ve got. After scanning a few shelves, I see some Hot Wheels hanging from the hooks.

I find a 3-pack with a sleek black Range Rover that’s damn near identical to the one parked in her driveway. Not really knowing what he’s into, it seems about as perfect as I can hope to get. The other two cars are a bonus that includes a matte-gray Lamborghini and a bright red Porsche. It’s only ten bucks, so I decide it seems safe enough, and grab a small gift bag to throw it in, some tissue, and a simple birthday card.

Paying for everything and getting in my car, I scribble on the front of the card first. Happy Birthday, Mateo! Hope you like these. – Jay (the food delivery guy)

Next, I grab a piece of paper, writing a note to leave for her. Saw the black one and thought of your car. Figured he might get a kick out of it. If he’s not into them, text me and I’m happy to swap it for something else. No big deal. – Jay [followed by my number]

I swing by her house around dusk. There are several other cars in the driveway besides hers by the time I get there. I set the bag right in front of the door, knock twice, and take off, not wanting to make things awkward when she comes to the door.

My phone stays silent the rest of the night. The next day, still nothing.

It’s late the following afternoon when I feel my phone buzz while I’m watching TV in my little apartment.

Unknown number: Hey Jay, it’s Sofia. You really shouldn’t have done that. Mateo loves the cars. He’s been making vroom noises nonstop, but you didn’t need to spend money on my son, but thank you. That was very sweet.

I grin like an idiot, immediately texting her back.

Me: Don’t mention it. Seriously, it was like ten bucks. You’ve tipped me way more than that over the past few months Glad he likes them.

The blue checkmark appears almost instantly, telling me she saw my text. Then… nothing. No dots, no reply. Radio silence.

The rest of the evening passes, and the days after that stretch into a week, then two. I don’t catch any new orders from her address on the app. I still snatch every delivery I can in her neighborhood, hoping for a lucky break, but it never routes me there again.

I find myself driving down her street once when I have a delivery that puts me in the area.

By early-April, it feels like it must be intentional. I open our short text thread too many times, wondering if the tipping comment landed wrong or if she felt guilty about accepting the gift. I even consider the possibility that maybe her husband noticed the texts and shut it down.

Enjoying the story? You can support my work on Patreon where this story is currently through chapter 44 at the time of this posting. Happy reading!