Loving Her Nemesis

by Zoe Ann Wood

  Jade slid down to the hallway floor, pulled her knees in, and cried.

  17

  Ben

  He stared at Jade’s front door. He’d made her cry, and he suspected it wasn’t the first time. But her words—and just like in our senior year, you blew it—stuck in his mind, their hooked claws tearing at his memories.

  He hadn’t been the one to cancel their prom date. She’d texted him a day before the event, claiming she’d caught a stomach bug. To this day, Ben wasn’t sure she’d been telling the truth. He’d gone round to her parents’ house that evening and had heard her playing her violin, a heart-wrenching piece so sad, he’d almost swallowed his pride and knocked on her bedroom window.

  Instead, he’d gone to prom alone and danced with Katherine Dahl, a cheerleader who’d made no secret she wanted to date a football player. So he’d done what his team-mates had expected of him. He’d kissed her, taken her out on a couple of dates, made out with her at the bonfire.

  But at the end of the summer, he’d left her just as easily as she’d left him. They’d both gone to their separate colleges, and he hadn’t heard a word from her since.

  Jade, however, had stuck with him far more than any girlfriend—and they hadn’t even kissed back then. Now she was acting as though he’d been to blame. Judging by Betty Smith’s reaction to him the other day, this was something she’d told her friends as well.

  Ben’s temper rose, and he marched up the stairs to pound on Jade’s door. “Jade? I still need to talk to you. I need to understand.”

  A small voice from behind the door—a stifled sob?—tore through his insides.

  “Jade? Please, I just…” He rested his forehead against the cool wood. “I don’t know why you called off our prom date. I’ve been asking myself about it for a decade, and I’m still coming up empty. I know you didn’t have a stomach bug.”

  That was a shot in the dark, but her silence from the other side of the door was all the confirmation he needed.

  “Why did you cancel, Jade? I’m sorry about last week. If I could go back and change how I handled things, I would, but at the time, I really thought I’d make it.”

  There was a shuffling sound, and the door swung open. Ben looked down at Jade, at her reddened eyes, and felt a painful tug in his gut. She was crying because of him. He’d never wanted to hurt her, and he stepped forward now to cup her face, to fold her into his arms and hold her until she was better.

  But Jade leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to know why I called off our prom date?” she asked. “My friend heard Katherine Dahl tell Tracy Spinner that you meant to humiliate me at the dance. That a cool football player like you would never go out with a loser like me.”

  “What?” Ben gaped. “And you believed that?”

  Anger flashed through him, hot and spiky. Did she really think so poorly of him?

  “What was I supposed to believe, Ben?” Jade cried. “I’ve seen Carrie. And our situation was exactly the same. Well…” She cocked her head to the side. “Minus the crazy mother. But we didn’t even know each other!”

  “And whose fault is that? I tried to talk to you, and you wouldn’t let me!” Ben spread his arms out. “You ran from me every chance you had. It looks like not much has changed.”

  “And your solution was to ask me out to prom?” she returned. “Ben, you spoke to me twice. Ask me how I know this.”

  Ben raised his eyebrows at her, unwilling to play her game.

  Jade answered the unspoken question anyway. “I had a crush on you all through our senior year. Every time the marching band played for your team, I watched you play. I sat behind you all year in History, and you never even said hi to me.”

  His anger deflated, and he tried to remember whether she was telling the truth. He’d asked her to prom in History class, so it must have been—but he’d only noticed her after her performance at the school talent show.

  “Jade…” he began, but she wasn’t finished.

  “I didn’t want to believe the rumors, you know,” she said sadly. “But that afternoon, right before I sent you that text, I met you and your football friends at Flap Jack Joe’s, and you completely ignored me. You walked right past my table, and when I caught your eye and said hi, you looked away.”

  Jade’s voice broke over those last words, and Ben felt like the worst scum of the earth. He’d forgotten about that day, about that incident. He hadn’t spoken to Jade because he’d been hanging out with his team, and those guys hadn’t exactly been friendly to anyone who seemed different from their idea of normal. He hadn’t wanted them to mock Jade—and he hadn’t wanted for her to associate him with their childish behavior.

  In doing that, he’d hurt her worse than he’d imagined.

  “Jade, I never meant to ignore you at the diner. I didn’t want my friends to make fun of you—of us. And I’m sorry for that, but they weren’t the brightest bunch. I wanted to take you to prom for real, and I wouldn’t have humiliated you. I liked you. A lot.” He rubbed his chest, where a tension built, squeezing. “You could have asked me about it, you know?”

  Her mouth pulled into a grimace. “Yeah, because teenagers are so good at being brave.” She sniffled and patted her pockets for a tissue.

  “We’re not teenagers anymore, though,” Ben remarked. “This should come easier to us.”

  Jade shook her head sadly. “But how can it? How can I trust that you won’t repeat the same pattern over and over? You ignored me, and you prioritized others above me.”

  The words were true but still unfair. He hadn’t meant for any of it to happen—he’d even tried to protect her in his own way.

  “If you can’t trust me,” Ben said slowly, “what are we even doing here? Why did you say yes when I asked you out? Why did you kiss me?”

  She looked away, and it hurt. He’d thought they were building something together—but Jade seemed ready to throw it all away over the first hiccup they encountered.

  “Right, okay.” Ben stuck his hands in his pockets. “I guess that’s how it is, then.” He took a step back, though it physically hurt to distance himself from her. “I fell for you, Jade. I’m sorry for how things turned out, but I wanted you to know that.”

  He couldn’t stay there. Facing the street, he clattered down the steps of her porch and marched away without looking back. If he did, if he saw a hint of hesitation on Jade’s face, he’d rush right back to her and beg her for another chance, his pride be damned. But she’d put it plainly: this had been his second chance, and she wasn’t interested in giving him any more.

  The moment the Victorian hid him from view of Jade’s front door, Ben stopped and put his hands to his knees, hanging his head down. Ouch. The conversation hurt, but walking away from her was even worse. He straightened and stared at the hulking mammoth of the house. It was too big, like his father had said, for a single guy. It would take him another three or four weeks of hard work to finish it, but it was time to put out feelers on the market. He was going to sell this house and get out of Jade’s way.

  Ben grabbed his safety goggles, his gloves, and his machete. He should be painting the trim on the porch, but that sort of dainty work wouldn’t allow him to release the tension building inside him. Instead, he strode to the far side of the property where he’d already put a dent in the massive shrubbery that had taken over the yard.

  If it would make Jade happy to have him gone, that was exactly what he would do. Keep away from her, even though every particle in his body craved to return to her front porch and comfort her.

  This was better in the long run, Ben told himself as he hacked into the thorny undergrowth. This was what she wanted, and he would respect her wishes, even if it killed him.

  18

  Jade

  She stood under the shower until she ran out of hot water. Her muscles ached because she’d failed to stretch after her run, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the clawing agony that her conversation with Ben had
caused. She got out of the shower and stared at the fogged-up mirror in the bathroom. She thought of wiping it clean but decided she didn’t need to know what she looked like at that moment.

  Then she put on her comfiest pajama set and got out her baking supplies. Stress-baking was absolutely therapeutic, and she needed it more now than she had in a long time. Heartbreak was invisible—no broken bones, no physical therapy required—but Jade thought it would haunt her just as long as the injury to her fingers had.

  The worst part was that she felt guilty over what had happened. So Ben hadn’t meant to humiliate her on prom night? That confused her more than ever, especially since he didn’t deny ignoring her in the diner that day. But she was becoming more and more aware of the fact that she shouldn’t have judged the man for the actions of an eighteen-year-old boy.

  Was his more recent mishap with their date enough to cut him out of her life completely? How would she have reacted if they didn’t have that history? Jade had no real answer to the questions. Instead, she measured flour, butter, and sugar, mashed bananas, and filled a loaf pan with nutmeg-scented banana bread batter. Her kitchen soon smelled amazing, and she took comfort in sitting on the couch and diving into one of her historical romances while the bread baked.

  She took the loaf out of the oven and let it cool, even though she was now hungry enough for her stomach to rumble. If it weren’t so late in the evening, she would have driven down to Flap Jack Joe’s for another bowl of Doris’ soup. Instead, she cut off a thick slab of the banana bread, smeared more butter on top, and dug in.

  A healthy meal, it was not. But she didn’t think a salad would help her bruised heart to heal as quickly.

  Still, she eyed the rest of the loaf and decided she couldn’t eat all of it herself. With her previous bake, she’d taken half of the loaf to Ben—but she couldn’t do that now. Tears pooled in her eyes as she cut up the banana bread in individual slices and tucked it into her freezer. Then she scooped up Felix, who meowed in protest, and carried him to her bedroom. He picked a spot on the bed while she brushed her teeth, and she found his presence comforting. As though he knew she was feeling low, he curled up on her lap as soon as she returned to sit in the bed.

  Jade tried to sleep. She did everything she could think of: read to make herself sleepy, counted sheep, went to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk, and tried meditating. But no matter how much effort she put into it, she couldn’t let go of the fact that she’d hurt Ben too.

  He’d genuinely wanted to take her to prom, and he’d tried to protect her from his silly friends. And she’d essentially told him she didn’t trust him—which was true, or it had been, to some extent. It was more that she was wary of opening up her heart to him again. But her decision a decade ago had been based on gossip, and she couldn’t forgive herself for that. She’d been trying so hard to avoid rumors and town busybodies, but she’d fallen into that same trap herself.

  At two a.m., Jade threw off her covers and sat up in her bed. With a groan, she realized sleep would not come, so she strode into her kitchen with a purpose. She pulled out butter and eggs, a can of pumpkin puree and some baking powder, and went to work.

  An hour and a half later, she had a beautiful brown pumpkin bread loaf on her cooling rack. It still steamed, and she was hungry again, but she refrained from cutting off a slice to taste her creation. Instead, she pulled a cake carrier from the top shelf of her pantry and gently transferred the bread into it. It was too hot to be closed completely, so she covered it with a clean tea towel and left a crack for the steam to escape. Then she put her jacket over her pajamas, stepped into her rubber boots, and crept out the back door.

  The night sky was overcast, so she had to turn on her phone’s flashlight, and she carefully avoided the shrubs in her yard as she made her way around the fence Ben had built. She stumbled once and dropped her phone—it was either that or drop the bread. The device landed in the grass, and Jade had to stoop and get it. Something fluttered past her as she straightened, and her heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  “It’s just an owl,” she told herself, but she still sped up, almost running down the Williams house driveway toward Ben’s trailer.

  She didn’t want to wake him, so she tiptoed to his steps and left the cake carrier there for him to find. It was a peace offering, and she put it there with zero expectations beyond mending some of the hurt she’d caused him. For a long minute, she stood still in front of his door, debating whether she should knock, but he’d looked so tired earlier. He deserved his rest.

  Instead, she hurried home, glad when she locked the back door and snuggled down in her bed. Felix opened one eye and gave her a contemptuous glare for having been woken, and she stroked the silky fur on his head.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing, buddy,” she whispered. “But I hope Ben will like the bread.”

  The moment her head hit the pillow, Jade slept, finally peaceful and too exhausted to worry anymore.

  19

  Ben

  Jade was practicing the violin at home.

  Ben sat up in his bed and narrowly avoided smacking his head on the compartment he’d fitted above the bunk for extra storage. The sheets slipped from his shoulders, and he shivered in the cold morning air. He would soon need to find a house or an apartment to rent for the winter.

  An agitated, fast melody filtered in through the closed windows, barely audible but calling him like a siren song. During the past week, he’d missed her scales and arpeggios. He knew she’d been avoiding him, but her practicing now meant she was returning to her usual schedule.

  Ben pulled on a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, then added his jacket and a knit hat on second thought. His water kettle sputtered, sending up a plume of steam, and he made himself a cup of instant coffee. He microwaved a breakfast burrito, then opened the door. Sitting on his steps, drinking coffee, and listening to Jade’s practice while the first light colored the eastern sky seemed like an excellent idea. Of course, it would be better if she was here with him, sharing—

  Ben realized mid-step that something was on his front stoop. Trying to avoid smashing it, he overcorrected and stumbled down. His burrito went flying and disappeared in the tall, matted grass, and he spilled coffee all over himself, trying to regain his balance.

  He bit out a curse and shook coffee off his fingers. It was hot enough that it scalded his skin, so he returned to the kitchenette and ran his hand under cold water until it stopped stinging.

  Over his shoulder, he eyed the offending parcel sitting on the stair. It was round, and there seemed to be a cloth sticking out of it, but he couldn’t make out anything more in the dim light. He changed his jacket and sweater, flinging the coffee-scented dirty ones in his laundry hamper, then returned to the door to see what was going on.

  It was a cake carrier. Ben picked it up and lifted the lid—it wasn’t clamped on tight, so it came easily. Underneath was a tea towel covering…a whole loaf of pumpkin bread. His throat tight, Ben carried the cake to his kitchen and sliced off a piece. It was fresh, still slightly warm on the inside, which meant Jade must have left it there in the middle of the night.

  He was lucky raccoons or some other beasties hadn’t gotten to it while he snored inside.

  Ben chewed on the bread and tried very hard to clear his thoughts of any remaining sleepiness. Adrenaline coursed through him, a hundred times more potent than caffeine. He swiped his hat off his head and tried to finger-comb his hair. Then he brushed his teeth—he wasn’t sure what the pumpkin bread meant, but if there was the slightest chance he’d be kissing Jade, he didn’t want to have morning breath.

  All the while, his heart pounded frantically, and by the time he rinsed his mouth, his rational thoughts were blown away by the pressing need to see Jade now.

  He ran down the steps and across the vast lawn of the nearly-finished Victorian. He vaulted over the fence between the two properties, landed in a molehill, and cursed. Shaking wet dirt off at the porch, he finally kicked
his muddy shoes off on the doormat and pounded on Jade’s back door.

  “Jade?”

  The music stopped. Ben peered through the frosted glass in the small window set in the door, but he couldn’t see anything past vague, immobile shapes.

  “Jade, please, open up!”

  If they had other neighbors, someone would be shouting at him to shut up by now. But their two houses at the end of the street were isolated, offering them the privacy they both cherished. It was early morning, dew still clung to the grass, and a slow fog crept up the street, giving the morning a properly witchy feeling. Halloween was just around the corner, and the trees were already shedding leaves.

  Something meowed, and Ben looked down to see Jade’s cat, Felix, emerge through the flap in the door.

  “Hey, there,” Ben muttered, crouching to pet him. “Is Jade going to let me in? What do you think?”

  Without warning, the door swung open, and Jade stood in front of him. From his position, Ben saw her long legs first. She was wearing leggings, and he kept his expression firmly in check as his gaze traveled up her body to her face.

  She seemed tired. Her face was pale, her hair pulled back in a bun, and she was shivering in the chill morning air. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he wanted to be with her so badly, all manners left him in a rush.

  He stood, straightening to his full height, and stared down at her. “Can I come in?”