by Emily Lowry
It felt like watching my parents have dinner. Two people, pretending to love each other, just going through the motions. Trying to hold on to something that wasn’t there anymore.
We finished our meal. Dylan’s dad was right. The food was fancy, overpriced, and not particularly satisfying. I wished we had gone to Beachbreak instead. Or literally anywhere else.
“Would you like some dessert?” the waiter asked.
“Up to you,” Dylan said.
I held my stomach. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Just the bill,” Dylan said. After the waiter left, he looked at me, concern in his eyes. “You okay?”
“Not feeling too hot, but I’ll be alright.” I wasn’t lying, not entirely. I didn’t feel great, but it had nothing to do with my stomach. It felt like I was staring at a window and watching a crack slowly form and crawl across the glass. Soon, with the right amount of pressure, everything would break. I would break.
Dylan paid the bill, ignoring my insistent pleas to pay my share, and we strolled along the Riverwalk. Truthfully, I’d only been half paying attention to see if anyone noticed us while we were on our ‘date’ but I had seen no one take pictures.
Dylan sent a text.
A moment later, Sofia emerged, seemingly from nowhere.
“How are the lovebirds?” she asked.
Dylan grimaced. “See anything?”
“Oh, do I have a video for you.” Sofia played the video on her phone. Sure enough, as Dylan and I sat at our table and awkwardly looked out at the water, someone strolled through the patio, pausing to snap some pictures.
Someone very, very familiar.
I saw red.
“They are DEAD.” I growled.
41
Jordyn
I stormed up the sidewalk, my fists clenched. The short drive over to the two-story house had done nothing to help me cool off. If anything, it made my anger worse. I thought of all the things I’d like to do to claim my revenge, and quite frankly, there were too many to list. I reached the front door and knocked so hard that the house shook.
“I will kill him,” I said. “I’m going to freaking kill him.”
“Not if I kill him first,” Dylan said from behind me. The entire night had been awkward, but at least now we were united again. Anger did crazy things.
“Open up!” I banged on the door. “Open the door!”
There were footsteps inside, then, a moment later, the door swung open. Standing on the other side was the person responsible for everything. The person who’d made it their goal to put me on blast on Click all summer. The person I thought — THOUGHT — I could trust.
Pete Landry. His face was white. His hand trembled. “Jordyn? What are you doing—”
Before he could say anything else, I growled, lunged, and grabbed his shirt collar with both hands. I wanted to yell at him, but there were so many words fighting to get out of my mouth, so instead of saying something coherent, I angrily shouted a strange mixture of consonants. But I shouted them directly into his face, which frightened him even more.
“Jordyn. Stop.” Dylan peeled my fingers off of Pete. We were in his house, now. Standing in the foyer. In my rage, I’d driven him back against the wall, almost knocking a painting to the floor.
“You want me to stop?” I growled.
“Pushing him won’t fix anything,” Dylan said. He glared at Pete. “Kick him in the groin. It’ll do more damage.”
Pete simultaneously covered himself and tried to run away. Instead of succeeding at either, he awkwardly stumbled, tripped over his own two feet, and face planted on the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t mean to?” I wanted so badly to kick him, but he looked so pathetic curled up on the floor that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “You didn’t MEAN to? So, you accidentally followed me? You accidentally took pictures? You accidentally sent them to Click? Click was after me because of your stupid accidents? Freaking hilarious. Why? Why would you do something like that? Tell me.”
Pete was still covering himself. Problem was, now he also had tears in his eyes — tears he was desperately trying to wipe away. It was difficult for him to do both things at once. “I was trying to help you.”
Help me? How on earth would anything involving Click possibly help me?
“When we were together—”
“We were never together,” I yelled, sounding slightly hysterical. I took a quick step towards Pete and he whimpered again. UGH. Why did he do this?
“When we were… you always complained. You complained that you were in Chase’s shadow. So I thought… maybe through Click… like Hailey helped Trey through Click. I thought, maybe if I showed Click everything about you, everyone would see you for who you are. Please don’t hurt me.” Pete looked to me, then to Dylan, then back to me. “I did everything for you.”
“You did a bunch of things I never asked you to do,” I said. I could almost, ALMOST, understand his twisted logic. In Evermore, Click turned people into stars, whether or not they wanted it. If he made me popular on Click, I’d become a star. If I was a star, people would stop referring to me as the quarterback’s sister. He was trying to give me a name.
But he was doing it in the worst way possible.
And he didn’t understand why I hated being in Chase’s shadow to begin with. It wasn’t because I wanted everyone to know who I was instead of Chase. It was because I wanted to earn things on my own. I’d rather be hated for who I was than liked because I was the sister of the quarterback. But bringing Click into everything? That didn’t fix the problem. If I was Click famous, I’d just be liked because of the rumors.
I just wanted someone to like me for me. To treat me as an individual, and not as Chase Jones’s sister.
“But, but, but…” Pete whimpered. “I wasn’t wrong, was I? You’re dating Dylan?”
Pete didn’t get it. At all. But before I could tell him as much, Dylan spoke.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Dylan said. “We’re not dating. Jordyn and I are just friends. And that’s all we ever will be. You know the code.”
Pete rubbed the tears from his eyes. “The code?”
“You don’t date your best friend’s sister. The code.”
I flinched. There it was again. I wasn’t Jordyn Jones, the girl he liked. I was his best friend’s sister. Was that all I’d ever be to Dylan? To the world? Look at me, Jordyn Jones, the sister of someone more popular. If Chase ever made the NFL, it would be a nightmare. The sister of an NFL quarterback. The ultimate cheerleader and supporting player.
It’s time to face facts, Jordyn. The most interesting thing about you is your brother.
Heat creeped to my cheeks, and my eyes stung. I gripped my fists so hard that my fingernails left half-moons in my palm. If I worked quickly, I could redirect the hurt into anger. Or at least I could pretend that’s what it was. Instead of saying something, I just shook my head and left, opting to stand outside near the car with my arms crossed.
A minute later, Dylan was beside me. “I told him to delete everything he has,” Dylan said. “And to leave you alone. If anyone puts you on Click anonymously, I told him I’d assume it was him. And then he’d have me and Chase to deal with.”
“Great,” I said without enthusiasm. I got in the car. Apparently, even the solution to my problems was to use my brother’s name.
42
Jordyn
Music blared through my headphones. A guitar riff, crashing cymbals, and a screeching singer came together to make the perfect theme song for what I was feeling: anger and pain. My Click nightmare was over, but another nightmare was just about to start. Chase would be home in two days.
Which meant that, in two days, Dylan and I were done. Or maybe, if I bothered to look at the evidence, we already were done. Our fake date was tremendously awkward. At Beachbreak, we only talked about work. And outside of work, we didn’t send each other a single text.
I st
ood and paced through the dirty laundry laying on my floor. If our encounter with Pete proved anything, it was that no matter what I did, Dylan would always see me as Chase’s sister. Even if he wanted to see me as Jordyn — and I thought he did — he couldn’t do it. Which meant that even when Chase came back, we couldn’t be together.
Ugh. If only I had someone to talk to.
I scrolled through the contacts on my phone. Hailey was still out of town. I could shoot her a text, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted someone I could meet in person. Someone I could sit across from and reach out and touch. The ironic thing was, in the past, if I couldn’t talk to Chase or Hailey, I always had Dylan.
Now… not so much.
I highlighted a name and sent a text.
A few hours later I was sitting in Peak’s Frozen Yogurt. Peak’s was THE place to go if you were looking to cool down on a hot summer day. The shop smelled of sugar and cotton candy, the frozen yogurt machines hummed in the back. Families and friends bustled through, each trying different mixes of flavors with different toppings.
Abby entered, her notebook curled under her arm. I waved her down. She eyed my frozen yogurt — a mix of Blue Raspberry and Vanishing Vanilla, topped with bright blue dolphin gummies and blue and white sprinkles — then set her notebook down.
“Be right back,” she said, before whipping away to get her own frozen yogurt. She crafted a mixture of Birthday Cake and Decadent Chocolate, and topped it with peanut butter crunch, then returned. “I haven’t seen you all summer. How’ve you been?”
That was a tough question to answer.
“Good,” I said, feeling anything but good. “Busy. I’ve been working at Beachbreak for most of the summer. Haven’t had time for much else. You?”
Abby tapped her notebook. “Internship at the Evermore Times. Lots of running around, scheduling interviews, double-checking facts. I’ve worked on a few columns, I’m hoping to get something off the ground by the end of summer.”
Abby was one of those rare girls that seemed to have everything figured out. She was a talented writer, was likely to become the lead editor of the school paper in the fall, and already knew which college she wanted to go to. She knew what she wanted to do with the next five years of her life; I didn’t know what I wanted to do with the next five minutes of mine.
She took a bite of her frozen yogurt, closing her eyes and savoring the taste. “This is the first place I actually talked to Chase. The first place we had a real conversation. Did he ever tell you I almost ran him over?”
“He might have mentioned it,” I said. He did more than mention it. Whenever he told the story of how he and Abby met, her driving got more and more extreme. By now, when he told the story, Abby sounded like Cruella de Vil, swerving through Evermore like a maniac. I’ll admit — I was jealous. From the way Abby and Chase talked about each other — and the way they wouldn’t stop eating each other’s faces — it was obvious how in love they were.
Maybe it was easy for them. Abby didn’t have to worry that Chase was Jordyn’s brother. It made no difference.
That’s all I wanted.
“So, what’s up?” Abby asked.
I didn’t know where to start. “You know Dylan?”
Abby raised her eyebrows. “Are the rumors on Click true? I told Chase they weren’t.”
Ugh. That made it worse.
“This needs to stay between us,” I said. “You can’t tell anyone. Especially Chase.”
“I won’t lie to him.” Abby’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t need you to lie,” I replied. “Just don’t bring it up.”
Her expression hardened, simultaneously making me proud that she was Chase’s girlfriend, and annoyed that she wouldn’t make an exception for me.
“I want to tell him,” I said. “And I will. But… just give me a chance to get the timing right. Please.”
She must have noticed the desperation in my voice, because after a moment of hesitation, she nodded. “Tell me everything.”
And so I did. I told her how Dylan and I started spending time together outside of Beachbreak. How he was the person I called whenever I needed someone to talk to. About the Ramirez Slip ‘n Slide and our own Jones Family Drive-in. I told her about Click’s pursuit of my secrets, and how Pete was behind it all.
“And… now Chase is coming back,” I said. “So it has to end.”
Abby looked confused. “Why?”
“Because.”
Abby gave me the same look she gave a subject she was interviewing. A subject she suspected was hiding something. “Because why?”
I threw my hands up, feeling hopeless. “Because Dylan still sees me as Chase’s sister. I’m not just Jordyn to him, not when Chase is around, or when anyone else is, for that matter. I want someone who will see me as more than that.”
“Hmm.”
Hmm?
Abby shook her head slowly. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“But that’s everything,” I said. Was I holding something back? Was there some other reason why I felt things couldn’t work out with Dylan?
You know there is, Jordyn.
I took a deep breath. “And you’ve met my parents. You’ve seen who they pretend to be… but you also know who they are. A long time ago, they were best friends. But look at them now. That’s what love does to a friendship. It ruins it. And… I’m afraid if I let myself fall for Dylan, it’s just going to ruin what we have.” I looked at her hopefully. “Isn’t it?”
Abby finished her frozen yogurt. She licked the spoon, then set it back in the bowl. It was almost annoying — I probably looked like a total slob when I ate frozen yogurt; she somehow still looked intelligent. Thoughtful.
“I wish I had an answer for you,” Abby said. “But there aren’t answers. Not with love. There will always be a risk. You’ll always have to put something on the line. And there’s always the chance everything can go all wrong. You just have to decide what you’re willing to risk, and when to risk it.” She took my hand. “I’m sorry if I’m not more help.”
“It’s okay.” I looked at my yogurt cup. It was empty. I couldn’t remember eating it, couldn’t remember enjoying it. If it weren’t for the few streaks of blue at the bottom of the cup, I wouldn’t have been sure that I had yogurt at all.
Abby was right.
With love, there was risk.
Love with Dylan might risk losing him forever.
And I didn’t think I could take that risk.
43
Dylan
“If you stare at those any longer, they’re going to get cold,” Luis said.
He was right.
I stood in the kitchen at Beachbreak eyeing three burgers. We had a double cheeseburger, garden style, a single cheeseburger, Cajun style, and a Midnight Meal. These were the burgers we’d be presenting to Christopher Lyons and his movie crew a week from now. If they liked the food, Beachbreak would win the contract to help cater the movie.
It was all I could think about. When I fell asleep, I had dreams about burgers. Actually, they were more like nightmares. I imagined all the things that could go wrong. I imagined giving one of the biggest movie directors on the planet an undercooked burger. I imagined him getting food poisoning, and Beachbreak being put on blast in the national media. Then a health inspection would come and—
“You okay?” Luis asked, drawing me from my anxious thoughts.
“I’m good.”
“You look pale.”
“I’m good,” I repeated. Truthfully, burgers weren’t the only thing on my mind. Since our encounter with Pete, things hadn’t been going well with Jordyn. We only talked at work. Neither of us texted the other. And Chase was coming back soon. She was slipping away from me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Our fling had always been fragile, and now that reality surrounded us, everything was crumbling.
Luis patted me on the back. “Just nerves. You’ll pull it together. You’re good at this.” He paus
ed. “How’s Jordyn? She called in sick.”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you were close.”
I shrugged. “Close as any friends.”
Luis snorted and rolled his eyes. “You were closer than that, from what I’ve seen.”
I winced. It sucked to deal with relationship problems. But it sucked even more when you were dealing with relationship problems and everyone knew about it. My brother wasn’t stupid, and neither was Sofia. I was sure they both figured out what was going on. But, so far, they’d both been too polite to say anything.
I sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“You’re seventeen. How complicated could it be?”
“It just is.”
Luis grabbed the next order slip, read it, and threw two fresh patties on the grill. They sizzled. “You like her. She likes you. You get together. That’s how it works.”
“Not with Jordyn,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because of who she is. And because of who I am.” I pulled a basket of fries out of the deep fryer, shook them onto a tray, then scooped them into a basket. “We both agreed that when Chase got back, whatever we were doing stopped. Because she’s not supposed to date his best friend, and I’m not supposed to date his sister. He’s back this weekend, so things are…”
I didn’t have the heart to say that things were ending.
“Is that what you want?” Luis asked.
“It’s what Jordyn wants,” I said. “And when Chase finds out, he’s going to be mad. And I’ll have to deal with that too.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
Frustration built inside of me. “Would you just let it go?”
Luis chuckled and flipped the burgers. He peeled plastic off two slices of cheese and set them on top. “All I’m saying is that you should talk to your girl before you jump to anything.”