I shivered a little. “You’re being ridiculous,” I repeated patiently. “Jamie, you’re not my brother. You can’t tell me what to wear or where to wear it. And to be honest, you shouldn’t be telling any woman, sister or not, what she should or shouldn’t wear. It pushes women’s lib back a few decades, and I didn’t think you were that kind of guy.”
With a shrug of disappointment, I brushed past him and made my way into the house. I was proud of myself. Usually, Jamie flustered me beyond reason. Apparently, the key was for him to irritate me enough for me to become my normal, articulate self around him.
He refused to speak to me at dinner that night, and I’d questioned my feelings for him. Shouldn’t I think about dating someone who liked me in return? Who didn’t give me emotional whiplash?
Thus began my crush hunt.
I’d decided on Christopher Cruz. He straddled the social circles at school nicely. He was a surfer. Chilled out, nice to everyone, and California cute with sun-bleached hair and a crooked, sexy smile.
After making my selection, I did what all best friends do—I told Lorna. During the subsequent four weeks, she’d plotted happily to get Chris to notice me. The party at his parents’ Malibu beach house was supposed to be the culmination of all the hours I’d spent at school getting to know him better.
Yet there was my supposed best friend, making out with my supposed crush by his parents’ pool.
The twisted thing was, I didn’t think Lorna was doing it because she didn’t want me to have a cute boyfriend. Lorna was doing it because she didn’t want me to have anyone but her.
My best friend was always complaining that Jamie loved Skye more than he loved her. That their mom had loved Jamie and Skye more than she’d loved Lorna. That her dad hated her, but he adored Jamie and even put up with Skye. And that I loved Skye more than I loved my best friend.
In Lorna’s messed-up heart, everyone always loved someone better than they’d ever love her.
I was hers.
No one else’s.
That was her point.
Her point reeked. I resented her and her jealous possessiveness.
Turning away from the pool where she was thrusting her tongue into Chris’s mouth, I pushed through the crowd of high schoolers and made my way to the front door.
Malibu was over an hour from Glendale, and Lorna was my ride. She’d gotten her license six weeks ago. So had I. I just couldn’t afford a car.
Cursing her under my breath as I stepped outside, I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my shorts and glared at my phone screen. If I called Willa to come pick me up, she’d have a shit fit. There was no way I was supposed to be at a party in Malibu where underage drinking was going on.
There was only one person I could call, and Lorna would be so mad at me.
I decided I didn’t care.
Skye picked up after five rings. “Hey, sweetie, can I call you—” She broke off into laughter and shushed someone. “Sorry, Jane, I’m kind of busy. Can I call you back?”
“Skye, I’m stuck in Malibu. Lorna is my ride but I want to leave and … she doesn’t.”
“Give me a second.” There was a moment of silence from her and I could hear the thud of music in the background. After a few seconds, the music dulled. “Okay,” she said, “I’m back. What the hell are you doing at a party in Malibu?”
“A guy from school threw it. His parents have a beach house. Anyway, I want to go home but Lorna is my ride and …”
“I’m going to kill her,” Skye huffed. “Okay, text me the address. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” She hung up before I could respond.
Hands trembling, because I hated making Skye mad, I texted her the address. Five minutes later, she texted me back and my heart fell.
I can’t drive. I’ve been drinking. Jamie’s in Reseda at a friend’s and is closer. He’s on his way. Tell Lorna I want her ass home. NOW. Xx
It was Lorna who came to me. She found me at the end of the drive, waiting on Jamie. I stared balefully at her, refusing to engage in an argument about what she’d done.
She sighed at my expression, jutting out one hip. “I can’t help it if he likes me more.”
“I couldn’t care less.”
Lorna flinched and glanced away. She nibbled on her lower lip for a second before turning back to me. “I’m sorry, okay. I should have told you I liked him too.”
“Yes, you should have. Because you know I would have stepped aside.”
“Yeah, because you’re so much better than me. We all know that.” She shook her head and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Are you just going to stay out here all night?”
Dreading her reaction, I wanted to stall but knew I couldn’t. “I called Skye for a ride. She’s sending Jamie. He should be here any minute.”
As predicted, Lorna exploded, cursing at me and calling me a buzzkill. That I shouldn’t be calling her family for rides when I had foster parents. That I’d deliberately done it to get her in trouble. That I was selfish and manipulative. I stared straight ahead, trying not to let her words sting.
The idea of being stuck in a car with Jamie for over an hour made me feel slightly nauseated, but I was relieved when he pulled up to the house in his black Ford Mustang.
He got out of the car, storming toward us, bristling with six foot two inches of aggravation. “Are you kidding me with this shit?” He gestured to the beach house. “Malibu, Lorna? Really?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a party.”
“In fucking Malibu. You’re sixteen. Get in the car.” His angry gaze swung to me. “Both of you.”
“I have my car here, and I haven’t been drinking. I’ll take us home. You can go away.” Lorna shooed him.
Stuck in a car with Lorna while she berated me for calling Skye, or stuck in the car for an hour while Jamie silently seethed?
Without saying a word, I strode past them both and rounded the hood of Jamie’s Mustang. I yanked open the passenger-side door and got in.
Jamie’s voice carried down the drive. “Get in your car—I better see you following us all the way home.”
“Would you even care about this whole situation if precious Jane wasn’t here?”
I stiffened. Why did she have to do that all the time?
“Lorna”—there was an unyielding quality to his tone—“if you don’t want to push everyone in your life away like Mom did, you’ll cut that crap out. Now get in your car and follow us home.”
I tensed as Jamie marched back to the Mustang. The car lowered with his weight as he got in and slammed the door. His jaw locked as he watched Lorna stomp like a five-year-old down the street to her Mini Cooper. As soon as she was in it, he swung a U-turn and took off.
Every muscle in my body was taut with the tension radiating off him, so it was a surprise when he asked if I was okay. He shot me quick, worried looks between watching the road ahead.
“I’m fine.”
“Why did you call Skye? Why did you want to leave?”
Ugh. My reason sounded so pathetic and immature now. “Just because.”
Jamie sighed. “Jane, what happened?”
I shrugged. “It’s just girl stuff, okay? It’s fine. I’m sorry your evening got ruined.”
“I was just hanging at one of the guy’s uncle’s house in Reseda. There wasn’t a lot going on.”
I nodded and let silence fall between us. He had the rock station on low, so I watched the scenery pass by and tried to forget who I was with and how much I wished he’d notice me more.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Frowning, I pulled it out and saw I had a text from Chris. We’d exchanged numbers a week ago.
Hey, did u leave? Sorry bout Lorna. Dnt know y I did that? Had 2 many beers.
I frowned at his excuse just as my phone buzzed again.
Ure gorgeous. Liked u for long time. Not in2 Lorna. Want u. Okay?
No, not okay. I must have huffed out loud.
“What’s going on? Who’s texting
?” Jamie asked.
“Just a stupid guy.” I turned my phone over on my lap.
Jamie didn’t reply right away, so I assumed he was uninterested in my stupid-guy story. I was glad because I didn’t want to tell it.
“Stupid how?”
I was pretty sure my eyebrows hit my hairline. I looked at him. He glanced at me, saw my expression, and frowned.
“What?”
“You want to know my stupid-guy story?”
“Considering you are the way you are, and you look the way you do, yet I’ve never seen you with a guy … yeah, I want to know.”
I was the way I was? I looked the way I did? What did that mean? “Uh … I thought I liked a guy. I told Lorna. We plotted to get him to notice me—”
“Like you need to plot,” he muttered.
Huh? Did he mean what I thought he meant? My heart raced a little faster. “Anyway, that was his parents’ beach house and tonight was supposed to be the night …”
Jamie turned to look at me so fast, it surprised me he didn’t get whiplash. “The night you what?”
Realizing where his thoughts had gone, I smacked his arm. “Not that.”
His hands tightened around the wheel. “Good,” he bit out.
“Tonight was supposed to be the night that we kissed. Maybe agreed to go on a date. Instead …your sister pounced first. And now he’s texting me to say that he didn’t mean to stick his tongue down Lorna’s throat for fifteen minutes and that it’s me he wants.”
At Jamie’s silence, I suddenly felt idiotic telling him. “It’s whatever.”
“It’s not whatever.” He shook his head. “You’re her best friend. Why would she do that to you?”
“It’s not as though I really liked him,” I confessed, not wanting Jamie to come down on Lorna for anything else. Even when she was horrible to me, I still found myself protecting her. It was confusing. “I just wanted to like him. Does that make sense?”
Jamie frowned. “Are you … are you not into guys?”
I laughed at his assumption. “Yes, I am. Just not anyone in my class.”
He seemed to relax a little. “Well, that’s fair enough. Still, Lorna thought you liked him. She shouldn’t have done that.”
“She’s possessive of me.” I tried to explain her reasoning. “She doesn’t want anyone to take my attention away from her.”
“And you think that’s okay? Jane, that’s not okay.”
I knew that. I sighed. Heavily. I tried to change the subject. “Are you enjoying college?”
He smirked and flicked me a knowing look. That smirk set off a flutter of butterflies low in my belly. “Four more years of school. Should I be enjoying it?”
“Yes,” I insisted. “Jamie, you’re surrounded by other students passionate about literature and writing. You’re among your people.”
His lips twitched. “My people?”
“Your people.”
He considered this, nodded, and then asked, “You read anything good lately?”
Ask a bookworm that question and expect a lengthy answer. “I found a new author to obsess over. Haruki Murakami. I read A Wild Sheep Chase first, and I’ve just finished Norwegian Wood. Now I’m starting Kafka on the Shore.” From there, I waxed lyrical about the Japanese writer’s prose and how I loved the surrealism of the worlds he created, of the fatalistic loneliness of the characters.
When I realized I was rambling, I abruptly shut up.
“What is it?” Jamie asked in confusion.
“I was talking too much.”
“No, you weren’t.” He smiled at me. Again. “I’ll need to check out his books. Recommendation to start?”
“Norwegian Wood.”
“Then I’ll read that first.”
Something about the way he said it, his voice deep, his expression almost affectionate, made me squirm hotly in the passenger seat.
Jamie returned his attention to the road. His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. “She’s following us. Good.”
I realized that I hadn’t even thought to ask if Lorna was making her way home too.
“Hey?”
There was a question in his voice. “Yeah?”
“I know I’m two years late with this, but I’m sorry I was a dick the night you told me about being adopted.”
My breathing stuttered and my cheeks grew hot. Why was he mentioning this now?
“I …” He let out a little huff of laughter. “What you said really got to me. I didn’t know how to react, and I was a dick. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“You did.” I didn’t know who was more surprised by my honesty, him or me.
Remorse softened his features. “Shit, Jane, I’m really, really sorry.”
Something that had been aching inside me for a while finally soothed. “You’re forgiven.”
There was a moment of silence between us, and then, “You schooled me that night. You know that?”
Shocked, I shook my head. “In what way?”
“Reminded me that I wasn’t the only one who’d been through something. And that having a shitty dad or being angry at my mom for dying before I could stop being angry at her for being a shitty mom wasn’t an excuse to be a dick.”
Wow.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You’ve already said it. And I’ve never forgotten it.”
Jamie looked nervous. I’d never seen him look nervous. He swallowed hard and glanced between the road and me, his fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I … uh … I’ve never asked anyone other than my professors to read anything I’ve written before, but … would you? I mean, would you …” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Would you want to read something of mine?”
It took everything within me not to shout a big, fat YES at the top of my lungs. My pounding heart was now speeding at a hundred miles per hour, my palms clammy. Be cool, Jane. Be cool. “Sure.” I was proud I sounded normal, in control. I smiled when he looked at me again. “I’d like that.”
Jamie released a breath. Like what I thought mattered or something. “Okay. Great.”
I tried to lose my smile and failed spectacularly. He caught me and grinned. A full, wide, gorgeous grin. For me.
Something passed between us.
Something new.
And exciting.
Holy fluttering butterflies.
I’d always been hyperaware of Jamie McKenna, but it felt like, in that moment, maybe he was just as aware of me.
“So, what about you?” he asked.
“What about me what?”
“College. You’re a senior after the summer and then it’s college. What are your plans?”
College made me anxious. I knew what my heart wanted, but my head, a.k.a. Lorna, told me something else.
“Well, Lorna thinks I should consider pre-law with her.”
Jamie snorted. Hard.
I scowled. “What?”
He looked at me in disbelief. “You, a lawyer? No. No. I asked what you wanted to do. Not what Lorna wants you to do.”
Well, that was obvious, surely. “Jamie, I want to go to art school. But what the hell will I do with an art degree?”
“Something that makes you happy.” He might as well have added “duh” onto the end of his sentence. “Jane, you’re talented. And way too creative to be stuck in a job that won’t allow you to explore that side of you. Plus, college is for discovering shit about yourself. Go to art school. Try different classes. Do things you never thought you’d like or be good at—see where it leads.”
My palms were clammy for a different reason now. “And what about money and security?”
“All good things. I didn’t say they weren’t. But there’s a reason they say money can’t buy happiness.” He flicked me an assessing look. “Back in Dorchester, we had this neighbor. Alejandro Elba. He was a jazz player. Didn’t have a lot of money but he had a shit ton of records, had played the sax alongside Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, and
Herbie Hancock. Unlike them, Alejandro didn’t find fame. And it didn’t seem to matter to him. He went out on the streets of Boston and played that sax like a legend. Scooped up his takings for the day, bought a coffee, and sat in the neighborhood, chatting with his friends and anyone who wanted his time.
“He was the happiest guy I’d ever met. Way fucking happier than all of Skye’s rich-and-famous friends put together. I will never do something because it’ll make me a crap ton of money. My life will be about what feels right.”
A smile pulled at my lips as I stared at Jamie McKenna’s handsome profile. Those butterflies he caused in my belly, that sweet ache in my chest, his words amplified them all.
Feeling my stare, he asked, “What?”
“I’m just wondering when you got so wise?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It might have been around the time a cute freshman reminded me to look beyond myself.”
My cheeks bloomed with heat. I couldn’t believe Jamie was so affected by our moment that night while all this time, I’d felt weird about telling him my story.
And did he just call me cute?
It wasn’t “sexy,” but I’d take it.
“Jane.”
“Yeah?”
“I have to apologize for something else. I was wrong. A few weeks back. At the pool.”
Remembering the moment he’d chastised me about the bikini, I shifted uncomfortably. “Okay.”
“I mean it. You were right. I shouldn’t tell you what you can and cannot wear. It was high-handed and assholian.”
Laughter bubbled on my lips. “Assholian?”
Jamie grinned. “Yes, it was extremely assholian.”
“So, you’re just inventing words now?”
“When appropriate, yeah.”
I laughed and he flashed me a warm look, affection bright in his eyes. “I like it. It’s a good word.”
“Thank you.” His smile fell a little. “But I mean it. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable. My issue with the bikini is my issue, and I shouldn’t have made it yours.”
Confused, I furrowed my brow. “What issue is that exactly?”
His eyes swung to me and flickered down my body, lingering on my bare legs, before returning to the road ahead.
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