The Crush Collision

by Danielle Ellison

  “Thanks,” he whispers. “I love this house. It’s so normal here.”

  “It’s not that normal,” I say. Jake gives me a look, like he’s going to argue, but then my brother comes back downstairs with the linens, and it’s like I’m not even there anymore.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Haley

  I’ve been avoiding Jake since the party. He drove me home, and I puked in his truck. I woke up in my bed with a large glass of water next to me. I don’t know if he put me there, or somehow led me there, but I have been too nervous to ask. I heard Jake downstairs with Chris yesterday, but I pretended to be asleep all day or busied myself with art. He didn’t come looking for me. We don’t have school because of a teacher workday, and after the Belles meeting, I’m trying to figure out what I want to do when he texts me.

  Meet me for lunch?

  Just seeing his name on my phone wakes the butterflies in my stomach. Yes. When?

  I can be at Changs in five.

  See you there.

  We arrive at the same time and both order the same things as always: me, garlic pepper shrimp lo mein, and him, sesame chicken with white rice and an order of crab rangoons to share. For the first time since Jake and I have become well, friends, neither of us say anything. I’m trying to figure out what happened, and all I can do is think about the silent auction. How I got Shane instead of him, and the party he took me home from, helped me when I was sick, put to me to bed.

  I’m not even that hungry, but kinda nervous. I need something to focus on besides that so I reach for the crab rangoons. He does, too. He moves his hand back before I can let him have that one. I grab another and instead of a bite, I put it on my plate.

  “Are you mad at me?” I ask. My stomach is queasy, my hands shaky. I don’t want him to be mad. “About the party. You’re mad that I went with Shane and, like, all of it, aren’t you? There were other reasons why I went with him. I did bid on you.”

  “No,” he says. “I’m not mad about the stupid auction.”

  “But you are mad,” I say, and he doesn’t disagree. “Is it me?”

  He reaches out and takes my hand across the table, like it’s not a second thought for him. It should be. It’s too much that we eat here all the time, let alone that he’s touching me in public. But also, as soon as he does, my stomach eases.

  “I’m mad at myself.” Jake sighs. He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. His eyes are on mine, locked there, and goodness, I almost don’t want to breathe. “I like you, Haley. A lot.”

  My heart jumps. I’ve been feeling it from him the last few weeks, but it’s not something either of us have said to each other. It’s not even something I allowed myself to want. “If you knew how bad I wanted to kiss you…” he starts, but then he trails off.

  “I want that, too,” I say, and he looks at me, surprised. I am, too, honestly. I never thought I’d tell Jake I wanted him to kiss me. “Since we were twelve years old.”

  He smiles. “Twelve, huh?”

  “Don’t make a thing out of it,” I say. But it is a thing, a big one. Something I’ve wanted so long, I can’t even remember a time of not wanting it. We could do it now. He could easily lean in and close the space between us over the table.

  “That’s a long time to think of kissing someone and to not do it. You think too much.”

  I do think too much, and he doesn’t think enough. Maybe that’s why we connect. Jake moves his hand from mine, and I’m colder. And selfish, because I want him to touch me again.

  “I don’t like what happened at the party,” Jake says. “Seeing you like that, you don’t even drink—let alone get drunk. I can’t help but feel like it’s because of me, and if Howell knew we were talking, he’d blame me, too. I’m a bad influence. That’s all I’ve been thinking since I took you home.”

  “My actions had nothing to do with you.”

  “Griggs?”

  I shrug. “I wanted to have a good time.”

  Jake nods. “You don’t need that to have a good time.”

  I bite my lip. I messed up. “I know.”

  “And as someone who lives his life escaping, it’s not a good way to cope,” Jake says.

  “I wasn’t trying to escape. I was just…” I pause. What was I doing? I didn’t really think in the moment or worry about later. I acted and reacted. How often does Jake do that and suffer the repercussions? I take a bite of my crab rangoon instead of saying anything else about it.

  “Why did you go there with him, anyway? What happened?”

  I don’t want to admit what he knows, to put Jake in more of a situation now that two people might suspect something. I start to answer, but I don’t want to lie. “He wanted to see if we could be friends, which is not going to happen.”

  He leans back. “Actually, it doesn’t matter why. I know you think no one sees you, but it’s not true,” he says. “I see you. I’m not the only one. You’re Haley Howell. You’re nice and sweet and beautiful—the only reason no one really makes moves is because of your brother.”

  “Because of him?”

  Jake laughs. “Hals, we all know he’d kill anyone who hurt you, and no dude is brave enough to face him. Especially after Griggs and how all that went down when you were together.” His jaw locks when he says that. “You know how much I don’t want to like my best friend’s sister? But you’re remarkable. And I don’t know why—I can’t tell you why I just now noticed, but I’m glad I did. You make me want more.”

  “Jake.”

  He holds up his hand. “I’m mad because I don’t deserve you. You should want the best. You should want someone who is everything. I’m not everything. Hell, I’m barely anything. As much as I want to be more, I’m not that. I’m a mess, Hals.”

  “I can handle a mess.”

  “You don’t need to handle a mess. You should have the best things in life, the best people.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “Seeing you at the party getting drunk, that’s not you. I felt like it was because of me, because I’ve shown you that it’s okay.”

  “I make my own choices.”

  “I don’t want you to be like me. I want you to be better. I want to be better, too.”

  “Jake, I really don’t need you to be anything other than who you are.”

  “I need to be something else,” he says. “Which is why I’m done with drinking. No more for me.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Partly. I also hope that one day I can show your brother that I’m worthy of you. That way, when I tell him I like you, he’ll be good with it. More good with it, anyway.”

  My heart does leaping jumping jacks.

  “You want to do that?”

  “I want to do a lot of things with you, Haley.” He leans in, and my heart races. He rarely calls me by my own name. “But first, I want to take you on a real date.”

  “When?”

  He looks at his phone. “What are you doing today?”

  “After this, I was going to the art museum in Charleston. I wanted to see this exhibit.”

  “Well, let’s go.”

  “You want to go to the art museum?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t want to go home, so yes. Let’s get this to go and eat it in the car.”

  “Okay,” I say, and he’s up getting us little to-go containers.

  Food all packed up, Jake holds open the door for me. “For the record, this isn’t our first date. This is a fun day.”

  “I’ll take that,” I say.

  “I’ll drive,” he says, pressing the auto unlock for his truck.

  Jake has been with me for the last two hours, walking through the Gibbes Museum of Art. It’s been amazing to check out the exhibit on still life. We turn the last corner to the exit and stop. “You sure this wasn’t the most miserable time?”

  Jake shrugs. “Are you kidding me? Did you see those miniature portraits?”

  I chuckle. He did seem to comment on every single one of them. He even made the guard
give us a look. “I’m glad it wasn’t a total waste.”

  “I was never worried about that at all,” he says.

  The way he looks at me when he says it, all intense on my eyes and this small smile on his face, makes my heart race. I always imagined Jake a certain way, dreamed about it, but him liking me was never a thing I believed would happen.

  “I’m glad you came with me.”

  “Me, too. Hey, you know what I need now?” he asks, looking past me. “A drink.” He takes my hand and pulls me toward a vending machine. While he’s putting the money in, a flyer beside it catches my eye.

  Join our study program! Ages 14-18. Inspired by temporary exhibitions and works in the permanent collection, selected students will take classes include sketching in the galleries, behind-the-scenes access to collection storage, and hands-on studio. To apply: submit a portfolio featuring 5-10 works.

  “You should apply for that,” Jake says. I jump because I didn’t even realize he was reading over my shoulder.

  “I don’t really think I would get it.”

  I reach over to put the flyer back on the table, but he takes it from my hand.

  “You love art. And you’re pretty damn good. You should do it. This would be the ultimate opportunity for you to take a risk.” He looks at me. “At least take the flyer and think about it.”

  It is a good idea, so I take one and put it in my bag. I’ll look at it more later.

  “Let’s go home.”

  Before he drops me off, he says, “Our date, can you do Wednesday night?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  Jake smiles. “Great. I’ll text you.”

  He kisses my cheek before I get out of the truck. I can’t believe I have a date with Jake Lexington!

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jake

  I stand on the edge of the football field and look out. With no one here but me, you’d think it would lose some of the magic, but it doesn’t. I feel unstoppable here. It’s different than on game days with all these seats filled for another home game. Teams on both sides, players on the field, cleats digging into the turf. Right now, it’s a different kind of peaceful.

  I see her before she sees me. It’s enough time to look at her, hair braided on the side, jeans that hug her hips in the right places, and a pink off-the-shoulder sweater that makes her blue eyes pop. She’s beautiful in a normal day kind of way. Not that she’s anything normal.

  Haley waves, and a big smile appears on her face. She’s so much more than “normal,” and I don’t know how it took so long for me to realize it.

  I rush over to greet her and extend my arm out. “Hello, Haley,” I say.

  She laughs and wraps her arm in mine. “A football-themed date. Do you bring all the girls here?”

  “Oh no, no way. This is a one-of-a-kind experience. It’s far too sacred for just anyone.” That makes her blush, and it’s cute. “Don’t doubt my skills, Hals.”

  “I never would. Not after the way you handled those milk pins at the festival.”

  “I was better than most of those small children.”

  Haley laughs, and I wonder if she’s feeling the same butterflies in her stomach. A girl has never made me feel this before.

  “I got us a couple seats,” I say and point over to the twenty-yard line to the lawn chairs and blanket I brought in. It’s a nice fall Sunday, maybe the first one we’ve had, and it’s not blistering hot or sticky. Perfect for a picnic.

  “Center field,” she says.

  “The field is where the inspiration is. Especially for someone as inspiring as you.”

  “I inspire you?”

  “More than you know,” I say, removing her arm from mine. My hands are sweaty when I touch her lower back, so I brush them off. We sit in some blue fold-up chairs I took from home. A pressure-filled rival football game I can handle. My hand is shaking as I pass her a pink lemonade from Lou’s. Haley Howell I apparently cannot.

  “What do you love about the field so much?”

  “It’s calming. I mean, not the game or the crowd. That’s noise, energy. The field, like right now, it’s full of possibilities. I can do anything here if I try hard enough.” I look toward the goal post. “It’s not only me, either, like it is everywhere else. There’s a team of us working together—we all want the same thing and we’ll help each other get it.”

  “Like life. None of us do it alone.”

  I shake my head. “You’re so corny.”

  “It’s true, though!”

  “I like corny, Hals.” That makes her smile again. God, I wish I could make her never stop.

  I pull out the lunch I got from Chang’s and pass her a box. “My version of a picnic.” I got her favorite shrimp, some sesame chicken, egg rolls, and crab rangoons. Along with some Cheerwine. I’ve known her forever, so I already know it’s her favorite guilty pleasure. I didn’t even realize it until I thought about it. Funny how that happens.

  “You even remembered the straw,” she says when I pass it to her.

  “I planned everything for you.” I pull out chopsticks. “Everything.”

  “You’re sweet, Jake.”

  “Don’t tell anyone. It’s only for you,” I say. God, I’m turning into a sap, but it’s true. I really like her. Everything inside me tells me I shouldn’t, but I’ve always been a rebel.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I smile, I can’t help it, and pass her the shrimp. She pulls out her chopsticks and picks one up perfectly. “What would you do if you could do anything? And not football,” she asks.

  I lean back in my seat, my own bite of shrimp ready. “Easy. Time travel.”

  “Time travel?”

  “There’s a lot of stuff I’d like to undo.”

  “Like?”

  “Jamie, mostly,” I say, mouth full of food. I regret that immediately. “Sorry, I don’t want to bring the date down.”

  “Okay,” she says. I know she wants to know more, most people do, but how do I explain it to them? To her? “Then tell me why you love football.”

  “One reason?”

  She shrugs. “All the reasons. Whatever you want.”

  “You know when you’re at a game and everyone is cheering and you’re cheering and for this brief moment of time, you’re all connected?” She nods. “It’s that passion. On the field, in the stands, the cheers. All of it. I play because I love it, because I wanted to be the best I could be at it, and to do that I had to practice and share and let Coach beat the shit out of me. Football is my entire life, and it will be my future no matter what. It’s all about passion. It’s probably the one thing in my life I know without a doubt I could never lose.”

  “That’s beautiful,” she says, and I shrug it off. “No, I’m serious. I’m still looking for that thing, but you have it. Some people never find it, and they do whatever they have to in order to be able to search.”

  “Oh, I know. People give up everything for passion.”

  “That sounds bitter.”

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “No, but now I’m curious what you’re referring to.”

  I look at her for a second. “You remember my mom?”

  Haley stops eating and gets quiet, nodding slowly. “A little. I remember your birthday, that last one she was here for, with the bouncy castle and Scooby-Doo.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah.”

  “And she had pretty hair, really long.”

  “It smelled like pineapples.”

  “She used to overdecorate for Christmas and make us all come over and watch movies with her.”

  “She loved Christmas,” I say, and it’s weird to think about something positive about her. I’d almost forgotten that stuff. “You know when I think about her, I don’t really even think about that.”

  “What do you think about?”

  “Her leaving.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I lower my egg roll back into the box, kinda done. “Nah, it’s okay.”

 
“Jake,” she says, reaching out to take my hand. “You can talk about it. I want to know. I never really knew what happened to her.”

  Haley squeezes my hand tighter, and her eyes are soft and kind, like she really does want to know. I pull it up in my mind, and it isn’t hard because the last memory I have of my mom is her leaving. Technically, I was leaving, and I didn’t know she was, too. I’d turned seven, because we had this Scooby-Doo birthday party the weekend before.

  “It was a Friday, because it was football night; our family never missed a high school game. Dad was gone; he’d spent the week in the city for work and he was coming back that afternoon,” I say, even though the background information doesn’t matter. Or does it? In hindsight, I feel like I should’ve known something.

  “She’d been really calm that morning.”

  Usually mornings were hectic, with Jamie and me demanding her attention. She’d made french toast, the kind she did with the cinnamon raisin bread, and had us both eat even though we were running late.

  “I remember she didn’t say much, kinda sat there with this look in her eye. She kissed my forehead, and I wiped it away. Other than that it was normal. Jamie and I had a fight in the car, and Mom listened. She didn’t stop us; it was like she’d tuned it out.”

  Haley is totally focused on me, and this has to be boring. I don’t want to keep talking, but now that I’ve started I can’t really stop.

  “When she pulled up at the school, she told us both she loved us more than anything and that we should always remember that. Jamie said he loved her, too, and he asked her if something was wrong. She said no. I said we were going to be late and it was my turn at show-and-tell this morning. Mom ruffled my hair and tried to kiss my cheek, but I didn’t let her. I said bye and bolted out the door. I was almost to the school building when I realized I forgot my lunchbox—where I’d stashed my show-and-tell toy—in the car. When I looked back, though, she had already pulled away.”

  I was so mad at her for driving away with my toy in the car. Mom usually paid attention, she usually would’ve come back and brought it to me. I kept waiting for her all day to come to school and bring that stupid toy. But she didn’t.