Tied Up in You

by Erin Fletcher

  Stress. The churning feeling in my stomach made it pretty clear I was going to have to deal with some of that before I could focus on my AP chem homework. Like any good scientist, I turned to the scientific method.

  Question: How do I get over kissing my best friend?

  Hypothesis: Change my name, skip school for the rest of the year, and avoid hockey rinks like the plague. Pretend it didn’t happen.

  Experiment: Look for evidence that the kiss was a mistake:

  - Our evening had been perfectly normal right up until he kissed me.

  - The glass-in-the-kitchen scare made him do something he normally wouldn’t do.

  - Jackson was a playboy who had kissed almost every girl in our school.

  - He was also a distraction, as evidenced by the fact that I was sitting here thinking about him instead of doing my homework.

  Analysis: The kiss was definitely a mistake.

  Conclusion: Pretend it didn’t happen. Don’t let it be a distraction.

  With determination, I opened my textbook and continued working on my homework. I managed to stay focused and had nearly finished the assignment when my phone buzzed. As much as I tried to ignore it, I could see Jackson’s name on the screen, along with the silly selfie he’d snapped one day last year when we were hanging out and I left my phone unattended. Just a mistake. Don’t let it be a distraction.

  I sighed and turned back to my textbook, but when I read the same paragraph for the third time without understanding a word of it, my emotions won the battle with my mind. The phone felt weird as I picked it up, like it weighed too much or too little or somehow both at the same time. Why was I nervous about a text from Jackson?

  Jackson: Hey…are we still okay?

  The scientist in me had proven that we were.

  Me: We’re fine. I know it was an accident.

  Me: By the way, I never thanked you for rescuing me from the broken glass of doom.

  He sent the thumbs up emoji.

  Jackson: You’re welcome.

  Jackson: Am I interrupting your homework again?

  I sent the book emoji.

  Jackson: Sorry. I’ll let you get back to it. See you tomorrow.

  Me: See you then.

  When I set my phone down, a thought kept pinging at the back of my brain. Despite my analysis, despite the many facts that said the kiss was a mistake, there was one fact I’d been trying to ignore but couldn’t anymore: I’d liked the kiss. Yes, it had caught me completely off guard, but that was the only negative thing about it. Everything else…the softness of his lips against mine, the way we fit together like it was meant to be, the warmth his mouth left behind, the tingles that made me shiver when he pulled away…

  That was the kind of science that proved I was in big trouble. But as I stared up at an old poster that still showed Pluto as one of the planets, I let myself hope that this might be one time when science was wrong.

  Chapter Four

  Jackson

  When my alarm went off the next morning, I groaned. First, it was a school day. Second, it was a school day after weeks of travel, which meant I wasn’t used to times before six a.m. Third, I’d had a dream about Malina. Not the “hanging out with my best friend” kind of dream. The other kind. It made for a truly love/hate relationship with my subconscious. It also made me dread seeing her despite the text she’d sent saying we were okay. We were okay, or we would be, as long as I could keep my brain where it belonged.

  When I got to school, after complaining to my mom that she really needed to restock the fridge now that I was home again, I headed to the cafeteria. Meeting Malina there had been our tradition since freshman year, sometimes with a couple of other friends or the people we were dating, sometimes just the two of us, depending on who got to school when. But we always met. I wasn’t about to ruin that tradition. This would be one step toward normalcy. I bought a bowl of oatmeal even though I’d already had a leftover hamburger at home—it was literally the only food in the house except expired canned peas—and headed over to our usual table with the low benches. Today, Malina was alone and the cafeteria was mostly empty. I’d kind of been hoping for others to be around as a distraction, but no such luck.

  “Hey,” she said, looking up from the book she was reading, which had stars and planets on the cover.

  When she smiled at me, she looked totally calm and put together. She wasn’t afraid to look me in the eye. It was like nothing had even happened. To her, I guessed nothing had happened. I just had to convince myself of that, too.

  “Hey.” I took the seat across from her and unwrapped my plastic spork.

  “Was it nice sleeping in your own bed last night?” she asked.

  I groaned. “Yes. The last three hotel beds I’ve slept in have been ridiculously uncomfortable. Plus I had to room with Matthews, who snores like a chainsaw. My bed and bedroom have never been more perfect than they were last night.”

  Except for the dream, I didn’t add.

  “That’s good. You ready for your classes?”

  I dove into my oatmeal. Theoretically, oatmeal was supposed to be hot, but this was the Oakview High School cafeteria. Most of the time it was lukewarm, and this made even that sound generous. “Not really. There were a few assignments I was supposed to do with my tutor that didn’t get done.”

  She frowned and closed her book. “Why not?”

  I took another bite. At least there was enough cinnamon and sugar to make up for the cold lumpiness. “You know me and school. We’ve never gotten along very well.”

  “Mmhmm,” she said in her “I don’t believe you” tone.

  I looked up at her. “What? It’s true.”

  “There wouldn’t be a girl who’s partially responsible for those incomplete assignments, would there?”

  It wasn’t fair that she could read me like a book when all I was doing was sitting there eating cold oatmeal. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  The teasing in her voice made me want to prove her wrong, but I couldn’t. The girl knew me too well. “Fine, there was, okay? I was supposed to catch up on work, but a couple of us were hanging out in the hotel hot tub after the game, and there were these girls…” I shook my head. Coach would have lost his shit if he knew what we’d been up to after curfew.

  Malina held up a hand to stop me. “Okay, that’s enough information. There were girls. I got it.”

  “Right.”

  “And where are said girls now?”

  I shrugged as I scraped the bottom of my bowl. “One of them added me on Snapchat.” What I didn’t tell Malina was the type of Snapchats they were. I definitely didn’t ask for them. I wasn’t that kind of guy. But apparently the girl who sent them was that kind of girl, and there was no reason to make Malina blush.

  “So they left you with a Snapchat account and a pile of unfinished assignments. Sounds awesome.”

  Normally, I’d laugh this off or even be proud of it. Malina was just giving me a hard time, but her words still made my skin crawl. Yeah, the time with those girls had been fun. I probably wouldn’t have worked on my assignments even if I hadn’t been with them. School wasn’t my thing, but hockey was. I could have squeezed in some weight training at the hotel gym or watched NHL games for research. Instead, I’d chosen “fun.” But looking back, how much “fun” had it really been? The bad decision settled heavily in my gut. Maybe it was time for more than just fun.

  “Hey,” Malina said, putting her hand on my forearm.

  Her touch warmed my skin and made me think way too much about my dream from last night. I yanked my arm back.

  Malina startled. “Sorry. Just…where’d you go on me?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” I said, and tried to force an easygoing smile, which probably didn’t look very easygoing. “I was thinking. About all of the homework. Maybe I’ll do some of it tonight.”

  She frowned like she didn’t believe me. Had she always been that pretty when she frowned? Wait. I shut that thought down faster th
an a penalty shot. If those hotel girls had been a mistake, thinking about Malina was definitely a mistake. For many reasons.

  “Let me know if you need any help catching up,” she said.

  Malina was in AP and honors classes, and while I wasn’t in remedial classes (yet, though a few more hotel girl nights and I might end up there next semester), I was solidly in the non-AP classes. But if I’d let her tutor me right then, all I’d think about was how much I wanted to kiss her again and how good she smelled and how I never really noticed that the shirt she’d had since freshman year fit her a whole lot differently now than it did back then…

  Shit.

  I stood so fast I knocked my oatmeal bowl and spork to the ground. “No,” I said. “That’s okay.” When I bent over to pick up the trash, I smacked my head on the edge of the table on the way up.

  Malina winced. “Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt.”

  “Fine,” I said quickly. “Fine. I gotta go.”

  Then without waiting for a response, I hurried out of the cafeteria. When I reached my locker, I leaned back against it and closed my eyes, willing my pulse to slow back to normal.

  It didn’t matter what assurances she gave me when I texted her last night.

  We weren’t fine.

  We weren’t still just friends.

  At least not in my book.

  “Jackson!” Coach Tucker snapped. “There’s no way Delecky should have made that shot! Get your head in the game or get your ass out of the goal.”

  “Yes, sir!” I yelled through my mask. It was the end of our afternoon practice, and he was right. I should not have missed that shot. As much as I wished I could say it was because I was tired or the shot was amazing, neither was true. I hadn’t been paying attention. Usually I could tune out the rest of the world, including girls, when I was on the ice. That didn’t seem to be possible with Malina.

  I tapped the posts with my stick and blocked the next shot. I missed the one after that, but it was from the best player on our team, Pierce Miller, and there was no way I could have stopped it. Coach must have known, too, because he didn’t say a word. I blocked the next two shots, but then I started wondering if Malina had told anyone about the kiss. If she’d told Izzy or her mom or Tutu. Things were already awkward enough between the two of us. The last thing I wanted was—

  “Jackson!” Coach yelled as I let yet another too-easy puck into the net.

  Guilt struck as quickly as that last slap shot. I swore under my breath. Letting Coach down was the worst. “Sorry.”

  “All right, stop,” Coach yelled. “Wind sprints for the rest of practice. You can thank Jackson.”

  I looked down at the ice so I wouldn’t have to see the entire team shooting daggers at me. They gave a collective groan, but no one talked back. We all knew better than that.

  “And Jackson, if you think you’re starting in goal next game after an embarrassment of a practice like that, you’re wrong.”

  My heart sank. There had been scouts at all of our games lately. Starting in goal every game was essential, and I’d blown it. I needed to get my mind off Malina and on the ice. I ripped off my goalie pads and joined in with my teammates. The last ten minutes of practice had never felt so long. When Coach finally blew the whistle and told us to hit the showers, I headed back to the net on shaky legs to grab my pads. Pierce hung back just off the ice, waiting for me.

  “Sorry,” I said, still gasping for breath.

  Pierce shrugged the apology off. “We’ve all earned the team wind sprints at one time or another.”

  He wasn’t breathing nearly as hard as I was. Though I used to play left wing, I’d spent most of the last few years between the posts. My reflexes were quick—when I wasn’t thinking about Malina—and being a goalie was still hard work, but my skating stamina was starting to suck. I needed to up my cardio.

  “Everything okay?” Pierce asked before taking a swig from his water bottle.

  He held the locker room door open for me. The room was loud and smelled like a wet dog, but I was used to it.

  “Yeah,” I said. A couple of the guys seemed to get that I was having a bad day and pounded me on the shoulder as I passed. A couple of other guys muttered sarcastic thanks for the wind sprints, but Pierce shut them up with a look.

  “You sure?” he asked. “Seemed like your brain wasn’t in it out there.”

  I sighed and tossed my pads in the bottom of my locker. “That obvious?”

  “To those of us who were paying attention, yeah. Where was your brain?”

  This was ridiculous. I didn’t need to waste Pierce’s time on a thing that wasn’t even a thing. So I’d accidentally kissed my friend. There had been plenty of times I could have kissed her before, but hadn’t. The majority of the girls I’d dated weren’t bothered by Malina. Our friendship was obviously nothing more than that. Hell, during freshman year homecoming, my date had been fine with me dancing with Malina. That night, in the middle of the dark school gym, we’d danced to a slow song, and I hadn’t kissed her then. Not when my hands were on her back on the silky fabric of her dress. Not when her heels made her the same height as freshman-me, our mouths close together. Not when I could feel her breath on my skin as she laughed and—

  “Jackson,” Miller said.

  “Huh?” When I looked up, Pierce was tugging his practice jersey up over his head. Most of the other guys had already disappeared in the direction of the showers. Yet there I was, still fully clothed.

  “It’s about a girl, isn’t it?”

  It probably should have bugged me when everyone assumed that right away, but it was also true. “Yeah. Kind of.”

  Pierce grinned and thwacked his jersey against my arm. “I knew you couldn’t stay single for long, but it’s not like you to get this distracted over a girl. This one must be special. Does that mean I should learn her name?”

  I looked at the ground as I spoke because he already knew her name. “Malina.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  If my cheeks hadn’t been flushed from the wind sprints before, they were then. “You heard me.”

  “Do you happen to know more than one Malina, or…?”

  “Or did I kiss my best friend? Yeah. That.” I unearthed the bottles of body wash and shampoo from the back of my locker.

  “Okay, so you kissed Malina. That’s awesome, right? Dating your best friend?”

  If only it were that easy. If only. “No. We’re not dating. I accidentally kissed her. And she wasn’t into it, but I was, and now everything is fucked up.”

  A look of confusion crossed Pierce’s face. “Wait, you accidentally kissed her? How does that happen?”

  “I didn’t mean to. We were just sitting on the couch like we always do, and I’d missed her so much while we were traveling, and it just happened.” I took off my jersey and shoved it in the bottom of my bag.

  “Okay,” Pierce said, like he didn’t really get it, but would go along with it for my sake. “When did this happen?”

  “Last night.”

  “And now things are awkward between you two?”

  “Very.”

  “Well, it’s only been a day, man. Give her a chance to process. You said she wasn’t into it? Maybe it caught her off guard. See what happens. Either she’ll realize she actually can be into it, or…”

  My hopes climbed up a notch. Was there some way to make this okay that I hadn’t thought about? “…Or?”

  “Or you’ll live a pathetic life of celibacy while having wet dreams about your best friend who doesn’t want you back.”

  My hopes plummeted back to the locker room floor. I punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, man. You can only joke about that kind of thing because you already have Lia.”

  Pierce had this smile that he only got when his girlfriend, Lia Bailey, was involved. It was the real-life equivalent of the heart-eye emoji.

  But he stuffed the smile down and gave me another look of sympathy. “Give it some time. Push pa
st the awkward and see if things go back to normal or take a different direction. And hey, you could always invite her to Matthews’ party this weekend. Just as friends or whatever. I’m bringing Lia.”

  That was an idea. I wasn’t sure if it was a terrible or amazing idea, but I had some time to figure that out. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Good. Okay. I’m hitting the shower before those assholes use all the hot water.”

  “Hey, Pierce?”

  He threw a towel over one shoulder and looked back to me. “Yeah?”

  “Want to do some extra conditioning this weekend? On ice or off?”

  He smiled. “Nothing like wind sprints to make you feel like you’re going soft between those posts, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m in. Text me whenever.”

  Conditioning. Hockey. I could stay focused on those things. I needed to stay focused on those things. And Pierce was right. With Malina, I could just wait to see what would happen. Things were awkward because I was making them awkward. I just needed to make them something else.

  Chapter Five

  Malina

  Math and science were simple. They were based on facts. Procedures. Proof. Essay writing, on the other hand, was subjective. That was why I was staring at my computer, deleting and replacing the same sentence of a college scholarship application essay over and over again.

  The Melting toP was busy that night. Lots of people talking, plenty more working on computers like me, and even one guy who appeared to be taking a nap in one of the plush chairs in the corner. In short, it was the perfect place to get lost in homework, which made the café my third favorite place in the world. The first was space. The second was home—preferably on the couch with Jackson, kissing optional.

  I really needed to stop thinking about Jackson.

  I shook off the thought, literally, and tried to focus on something—anything—else. Staring at the Melting toP’s sign, with its gold and blue swirls that had always reminded me of a galaxy, worked. The place hadn’t always been called The Melting toP. The P and t used to be in the right places, but when some big fondue restaurant caught wind of our town’s little business, they sent a cease and desist letter requiring them to change their name. The owner took a ladder outside, switched the P and the t, and called it The Melting toP. It got the lawyers off his back and added to the café’s charm.