by Emily Childs
I blush, fire spreads through my face. “No, I…well, I actually brought them as a thank you to your brother for driving me all the time.” A lie, but I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about Jonas’s secret, right?
Axel reaches his hand into the bag. “Well, then he won’t mind if I get a taste of what I’ve been missing all these years.”
What did that mean? My heart races, pumping all my blood at the base of my skull. Stop it, Brita. His comment means nothing. Just that he’s never had our cookies.
“These are amazing,” he says, sincerely. Even eating he is perfect. “Now I’m even happier I came this morning.”
“Stick around, I’m full of secrets,” I say. Listen, no one said I had a knack for flirting, I don’t, but I am glad to try.
“I hope so.” His voice sounds lower, and his bright eyes watch me for a moment longer before he turns his focus back on the road.
I flush, and I don’t even care if he sees the pink color the tips of my ears. This is more than I hoped. Axel is better than I hoped. I have a feeling this is going to be a great day.
Chapter 7
Conversation with Axel comes remarkably easy. After a few rusty beginnings, I’m amazed how naturally we fall into a back and forth. Axel tells me all about his interests in athletics and his desire to work in Physical Therapy. It sounds perfect. But he doesn’t only talk about himself. No. Axel wants to know about me!
I pick my words carefully this time. Unlike with Jonas, I practice restraint and keep it cool. I’m enjoying myself so much that I almost forget this is likely all arranged by his brother.
The way Axel’s eyes brighten, and his pupils dilate when we talk, some psychologists would say that means he’s enjoying himself as much as me.
I talk about literature, how I enjoy reading between the lines and diving into what the authors may have thought when penning the words. How the history of the written word fascinates me, and how there are more and more viable career choices with literature degrees than most people understand. I tell myself he’s impressed, but I’m not sure. He grins the entire trip to the office and leaves me feeling light.
By the time Axel pulls into the parking lot, at least ten pepparkakor cookies are gone, but I make sure to save about another ten for Jonas. Axel puts the car into park and turns to face me in his seat. I half expected a drop and roll, but he wants to stay, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. The burn returns to my cheeks as I gather my things.
“Thanks for the ride, you really didn’t need to. I can take the bus or come into work with my dad if Jonas can’t drive me again.”
“I wanted to,” Axel says. “I can’t believe we’ve never done this before now. Seems sort of like a waste, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it sort of does.” He has no idea how much I really believe that.
Axel taps the steering wheel, the small muscles in his jaw pulse for few breaths. Turning back in my direction, he flashes one of those melt-in-your-seat smiles and leans a little closer. “I know this might sound crazy, and I know it could cause some problems, but would you like to do this again? Maybe we could get dinner sometime before you head back to school.”
This must be Jonas’s doing. There is no way my lack of natural flirtatious ability has secured a real date with Axel.
Before I ruin the euphoria by overthinking, I nod. Not too eagerly, of course. “That would be—” What word should I use? “—fun.”
“Great. Can I get your number and I’ll give you a call?”
My voice is held hostage while I surrender my phone. He adds his name and when he hands it back to me, our fingers brush. I imagine the feeling equates to a round of Fourth of July fireworks bursting along each one of my cells. When I back out of the car, it takes all my concentration to wave and stay upright. Axel leaves me gawking like a simpleton in the snow-packed parking lot as he pulls back into the rush of lunch hour commuters. Only a group of paralegals returning from their lunch break snaps me out of my fog, and back to the reality that I still have a job to do.
Inside, I find Jonas right away. His back is turned to me, he smacks the side of the copier as I lean against the machine.
“Hey,” he says. “You made it in. I was going to let you know I had to come in early, but I don’t have your number and would probably be shot by dough bullets if I stepped foot in your shop.”
I shake my head and laugh, but never deny his face in the café would start a riot. “You could have called my dad.”
Jonas furrows his brow and glances sheepishly at the copier. “I could have done that, yes.”
“It’s okay. I had a feeling you were going to pull something like this after our last conversation.”
“Nope,” he says. “I did a lot less than you think. I had grand plans to describe you in detail to Axel, all about how you were the long-awaited love he’s never realized—”
“Stop,” I say, shoving his shoulder.
Jonas beams a milder smile than his brother, and slams the side of the copier again. “Honestly, on Christmas Eve all I said was that you’re pretty fun to work with. I was talking more to myself when I mentioned I couldn’t drive us today. Axel came up with the idea to give you a ride. He had to take my car in for an alignment to do this, so honestly I think I got the most out of the deal.”
I laugh, then double tap the copy button when Jonas looks ready to take an axe to the machine. I enjoy his exasperation too much when the light bar flares to life and scans back and forth, the machine humming.
“Come on,” I say with irony. “You can’t tell me that right after I admit I like your brother he just asks me out all on his own.”
“He asked you out?” Jonas asks, his ocean-blue eyes locking fiercely with mine. “No, ma’am. I never even went into the realm of going out. I thought I’d need to build slowly, break through some preconceived notions, you know? Sounds like maybe Axel has been keeping his own secret.”
I narrow my eyes, studying Jonas for a moment. He does look different from Axel. His face narrower, but it suits the rest of his trim shape. He keeps his hair a little longer, but the way it wisps over his ears doesn’t look juvenile like Logan’s. Jonas lets his facial hair grow out more than Axel. The trim, light brush of scruff makes him look older. But I like it.
I should tell him, but I move on. “I’m not sure if I believe you. Either way, I’m glad you haven’t found me totally detestable so you could say I’m okay to work with.”
“I said you were fun to work with.”
“Even better. How was your Christmas?”
Jonas shrugs. “I ate way too much and spent most of my time getting slaughtered in basketball by Ax and Logan.”
“Logan stayed with your family?” I know he did, but admitting I spied on the Olsens last night might cause me to lose my ‘fun to work with’ status.
“Yeah, his parents decided to go to Hawaii for the holiday and made it clear it would benefit their relationship to go alone. At least that’s how Logan put it. He’s not in school right now so my mom invited him over. How was your Christmas?”
“Almost perfect,” I say, and quickly wish I picked better words.
Jonas is too quick to miss the tone. “Almost?”
I wave him away, but he settles in, unmoving. “It’s nothing, this was the first year in my entire life that I haven’t seen my mom on Christmas. And it’s our first year without my Farmor.”
Jonas’s face falls into his reserved expression. “I didn’t even realize…I’m sorry. It’s always hard the first Christmas after a death. My grandma died in October so Christmas that year sucked.”
“I remember when she died,” I say softly.
“I didn’t even think about the divorce and holidays,” he says, almost as though he is chastising himself. “Bet it isn’t easy for you or your dad. Are you going to see your mom before going back to school?”
“No, but it’s fine. We’re going to New York in January and I can hardly wait. Oh, before I forget, here,” I s
ay, trying to steer the conversation away from my family woes. “I brought these for you.”
Jonas opens the gift bag, and I vow to bring a hundred more cookies if I’m promised that same smile each time.
“Marry me,” he says, bringing out one of my snorty laughs; I don’t even have time to hide it. “This is by far the best Christmas gift.”
“Good, and I’ll think a bit on your proposal,” I say. “I had more, but Axel may have helped himself to some.” And me. “I just wanted to say thank you for being willing to drive me every day. I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other. Who knows, we might even end the feud.”
Jonas meets my gaze. I don’t understand the intensity of his stare, but he’s frozen me in my place.
“Thanks, Brita,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “I hope you’re right.” We watch each other for about two solid seconds before he holds up the bag, a mischievous scowl on his face. “Although, you started a new war by letting my brother eat my cookies. I won’t forget.”
Jonas tucks the bag under his arm, takes his copies, and dramatically takes a bite of the ginger morsel before stalking to the classier side. I mutter a lame response under my breath and take my seat. This morning I plan to work on Jonas’s report. I thought to work on it the nights of Christmas Eve and Christmas, but Dad reminded me he wasn’t working so I wasn’t allowed to either.
I pull out my phone and set it next to the folder, and my stomach wrenches as though a strong fist wraps around my insides. There on my screen is a text message. A thrilling, dreamy text message from someone newly labeled Brita’s Date.
Hey, just wanted to say I’m looking forward to dinner. I’m glad J had to work early. Talk to you later.
I keep my lip rolled over my teeth so long, all my lip gloss smears all over my tongue. Yes, today is going to be a great day.
Chapter 8
Saturday morning shopping with Oscar always brings a decent amount of entertainment. My cousin is well known around Lindström with the opposite sex. More than once I am shooed away so he can work his charm. I gather groceries while Oscar casually leans against the shelves, some blushing girl giggles at everything he says.
I rest on my elbows on the cart handlebar and scroll through my phone. When the latest pit stop from Oscar takes longer than normal, I set to wandering. This girl is a raven-haired beauty, and Oscar genuinely seems interested. I already know exactly how I will tease him on our drive home.
Three aisles over, I click on a voicemail message from Jane, my roommate at school. “Hey Girl,” she says, her Canadian accent thicker after spending a few weeks at home. “I’m ready for the new semester. Just checking in on your holiday. Also, I got a call from the apartment management. They’ve got all new keys and locks. It will all be ready four days before classes start. I think I’m going to get there as soon as I can. I just wanted to check and see when you were heading back. Anyway, miss you, love ya! LAST SEMESTER!”
She finishes by screaming into the phone. I laugh. Jane is vibrant and hilarious. For four years we’ve spent countless hours studying, pining over cute college guys, and working toward our futures. I’m keeping my fingers crossed she snags a job in the Midwest like she wants. I’d miss her too much if she became some computer genius on the west coast or back in Canada.
I move on to the texts. I’ve already read them at least a hundred times. Axel texted me last night and we went back and forth for an hour. It started as securing plans for tonight. Ah, tonight. We are going out, and I can hardly wait. Truth be told, normally I hate texting. I never use emojis, so my messages have caused numerous misunderstandings that I didn’t even know could happen from a simple text. But texting Axel is different.
I read a few of my favorites, aimlessly wandering the aisles around Oscar.
Axel: I’m having a hard time not meeting up tonight. I could sneak out.
Like we’re in high school?
Axel: The way things are we need to stoop to high school levels. But it makes it edgier to keep a secret, don’t you think? That’s why I can’t wait until tomorrow.
Some secrets are more fun than others. I think the wait makes it even better.
Axel: Fine. I’ll wait. Right now, this is my favorite secret to keep.
My heart pounds reading those words again, even with my stupid reply that took me exactly seven minutes to compose.
Mine too.
“Brita, there you are. Ready?” Oscar asks behind me. He holds a bottle of orange soda and a bag of donuts.
I cock my head. “You know we own a bakery?”
“Sometimes I just want a plain donut,” he says.
“Are you sure you’re done chatting up the girls?”
“You are kind of lame, you know,” Oscar mutters.
I don’t realize how mammoth Aunt Inez’s shopping list is until we’re checking out. I think the cashier breaks a sweat by the time we’re done.
We pay quickly, then hidden behind heaps of bags, we make our way to the parking lot. The three bundles of paper towels block my view, or I would have noticed people in my way. I should know better than to let Oscar lead the way.
“Whoa, watch it.”
I pull back on the cart and peer around the mess. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
I lose my words and my fingertips go numb. Logan looks down his nose at us, but he isn’t alone.
Elias Olsen stands at his side, a bitter scowl paints his face. Bastien is next to his father and eyes Oscar, though I detect a hint of admiration from the sophomore to the senior. Oscar told me Bastien made the basketball team—maybe they like each other as teammates. But behind them all are Jonas and Axel.
The twins have opposite expressions. Axel smiles, almost as if the tension entertains him. Jonas looks like he might be sick. Jonas and I talk so easily on our car rides and at the office, but in public we fall back into quiet, tense nods or glances. I hate it.
“Might want to watch out where you’re going, Brita,” Logan says. “One might think you were getting aggressive.”
I can’t believe it. For most of my life I’ve been blessed to avoid the anger and harsh words shared through bitterness between Viggo and Farfar, but now I am standing in the middle of a gaping, dirty, puddle of it.
“Really, Logan?” I start, but Oscar takes over.
“Hey, we didn’t see you. Relax a bit,” Oscar snaps.
There it is. The same wretched resentment from my side!
Maybe Inez and Karl hate the Olsens more than I know and have polluted my cousin. The way Oscar glares at Elias, then Logan, then the twins is disheartening. The only person who escapes his wrath is Bastien.
I appreciate my parents for never encouraging me to take up arms. Although, they never discouraged it, we simply never talked about the Olsens unless necessary.
“Logan don’t be an idiot,” Jonas says, and I feel as though I could kiss him. He nudges his dad in the arm. “Let’s go. Forget it.” He tries to urge them all forward.
Logan glances at my cousin, his eyes dark and sullen. “Hey, Elias maybe you ought to tell Coach Marks his team captain bad mouthed you.”
Elias doesn’t say anything, but it looks like he might. He simply narrows his eyes at Oscar. Bastien looks at the ground, uncomfortable. I see him nudge his father.
“Okay, Logan stop.” That comes from Jonas and now I am two seconds away from kissing him right on the mouth. He’s the only one showing some brains. “Dad, come on. Brita, Oscar.” He nods curtly, taking the first initiative to walk away.
“Come on,” Bastien repeats to his father.
Hate isn’t the right word for this situation, I utterly loathe this whole thing. Am I the only one who notices how stupid this feud is, and the impact it has on the youngest among us? I think of Agnes. She is a pure spirit; she loves everyone, but how upsetting it is to think of someone in the Olsen family mocking her for her cerebral palsy. I can’t think so little of them, but what if they did? Would they harm her tender heart?
&n
bsp; When the others leave, Axel walks next to me and winks. I wish to ignore the unsettling stress like him. Through it all he’s relaxed. My stomach whips in harsh waves.
“See you later,” he whispers by my cheek, so quietly I hardly hear him.
Oscar doesn’t notice, he still glares at the backs of Elias and Logan. I watch Axel follow his family, my nerves and anticipation break apart the knots from the near explosion. Tonight, we can relax. I’ll get to know him as a separate entity from his family name. He will know me for who I am, not only as a Jacobson. I take a deep breath.
Maybe I’m dreaming. If anything, this moment proves kindness, civility, and maybe even love between our families is a fairy tale from a children’s book.
***
“Well don’t you look nice,” Farfar says when I prance down the steps later that night.
My brown ankle boots fit snugly over my favorite faded jeans. I went back and forth between a lacy top, or my sweater. The black oversized sweater won out. I love the way it drapes over my thin frame giving the illusion I have a few more curves than I do. The hair is a different situation. To some being born with natural curls is a blessing. That might be true, if naturally curly hair ever did the same thing twice. I spent an hour blowing out my waves until the locks fell over my shoulders like a frizzy mop. But that will need to work.
“Where are you off to?” Inez asks.
“Just out with some old friends from high school.” Did I mention my stomach is in knots, and has been all afternoon as I prepared to deliver that very deliberate lie? “We’re going to go out to dinner before I head back next week.”
“That sounds nice. You are cooped up too much, älskling,” Farfar says, flicking yesterday’s newspaper wider, his eyes never leave the black and white text.
“Do you need the car?” Dad asks. He’s looking at me weird.
Shaking my head, I drift toward the front door. “Nope, we’re meeting down the street at the gas station.”
True. Axel found it only added to the suspense of the night to keep going to the place where all this new interaction with the Olsen brothers began.