by Emily Childs
I’m squished between Jonas and Natalie, and I smile when he looks at me. He seems ready to say something, but Natalie speaks up instead. “Is this strange for you guys?” she asks. “I mean, we all know about the tensions back home, but you two—I don’t know, you seem to get along really well.”
“What? I can’t stand him,” I say.
“She’s awful,” Jonas adds. “And she can’t sing at all. I had to suffer the entire way back to school.”
“Oh, I’m bad? Your pitch is what most people save for showers, behind a very locked, very sound-proofed door.”
Jonas tosses a bit of popcorn at my face, bringing me to giggle childishly. Natalie smiles, a knowing smile that sends a flush to my neck like a thousand pin pricks. A sense of relief comes when Jane and the others tiptoe along the row.
Jane leans in close to Jonas, who keeps his hands on his knees or folded over his chest. Once the meat of the movie is well underway, I start to drift further away from Jonas and Jane, feeling more and more out of place. It really isn’t my kind of show, yet I will take the guns and explosions over watching sly hand brushes with Jonas or my best friend nuzzling her body against his. I wonder if Jonas enjoys the way she’s linked her arm in his, then I wish Axel were here. I could lean my head on his shoulder, or hold his hand after we both reach for the popcorn. Even as I think of Axel, I keep stealing glances from the corner of my eye whenever Jane or Jonas shifts in their seats.
“Jane really loved that last scene,” Jonas says when we all squeeze around a cramped table in the corner of the restaurant.
“What’s not to love.” She fans her face and mouths, So hot. They laugh together.
I’m glad they seem to be hitting it off.
Then Jonas looks at me. “What did you think?”
“It was intense, but predictable,” I say, struggling with my chopsticks.
“Come on, it wasn’t that predictable,” Jonas replies. He’s a pro at chopsticks, by the way.
“The technology was completely fabricated and unrealistic,” Matt says as he opens a fortune cookie, but then tosses the fortune onto the table.
“You think everything is like that,” Jane says. “It was meant to be futuristic, Matty.”
“It’s entertaining. Isn’t that the entire purpose of a movie?” Jonas asks, watching me attempt to jab at my chicken.
“See, Jonas knows how to enjoy an evening, Matthew.” Jane runs her hand over Jonas’s arm, then turns to her own fortune.
“Oh, my…come on, haven’t you used chopsticks before?” Jonas laughs and moves his bowl out of the way. I’ve dropped the same piece of chicken three times.
“Hey, I have many talents, and I’m not too concerned chopstick holding isn’t one of them,” I say. And all at once my head is swimming when Jonas wraps his hand around mine. Oh, Mylanta. He’s never been this close before.
I’ve lost track of how we ended up this way. The warmth from his hand sends strange chills up my arm, neither cold nor hot. Jonas pauses too. His jaw pulses when he guides my fingers to pinch the sticks over the lump of saucy meat.
His voice sounds rough. “It’s easy. You just have to find the grip.”
Jane gnaws on the end of one of her sticks, a brow raises. She watches us. Jonas clears his throat and releases my hand. My skin feels cold when he scoots back to his place.
The tingle on my hand leftover from his touch is all wrong. I don’t say much the rest of the evening. Sure, I tease and laugh, but something about sitting close to Jonas has blanketed me in a strange, unfamiliar wave of jitters. Jonas drives Jane and me home, my head still hazy. I don’t even remember that Emma plans to declare her love for Brody.
With a quick wave over my shoulder I rush into my bedroom. I am smitten with Axel, he makes my stomach flutter and oh, when he kisses me…
But this is something else.
A fleeting moment when Jonas Olsen, the wrong brother, has by all accounts taken my breath away. I want to cry, and smile, and laugh, and shriek.
When Jane knocks on my door, I jump. She’s doing her signature lean against my door frame.
“So, did you have fun?” she asks with a smile.
“I did, it was good to get out. How was your date?”
“He’s a gem. A perfect gentleman. Did I mention he’s sexy?” I force a chuckle. “But…”
“But what?” Interest and a need to know every thought in her hilarious brain cracks my voice.
Jane looks away almost wistfully for several heartbeats. “I’m not sure we fit, you know? I think I’d overwhelm the poor guy. I don’t know, it was fun but at the end there I didn’t get the vibe.”
“I guess. Maybe you should go out again, one on one.”
“I think I’ll just welcome him into my friend circle. Although, I had a thought. Hear me out. If it doesn’t pan out with his brother, I think you and Jonas might fit pretty well.”
I offer a nervous chuckle. “No, I don’t think so. Jonas is so…you know, just not really…we wouldn’t be good together. Too different.”
Jane yawns as she removes her gold hoop earrings. “Whatever you say. It was just a thought. You would know better than me.”
She blows me a kiss and goes into her room across the hall. Hugging my favorite pillow, I sink against my buried headboard. I imagine what Dad might say if he knew—and Farfar! What am I doing? Living in a fantasy where there is golden, sweet blood between my family and the Olsens. How easily I have forgotten. Jonas and I drove together under a guise, a lie. Axel remains a complete secret. All of this will always be a secret unless I finally find the courage to speak up, but the thought still causes my heart to thump heavy in the back of my throat. I close my eyes, not surprised when a single, hot tear squeezes out the side.
Brita Jacobson, what are you doing with the Olsen brothers?
Chapter 15
My eyes start to water, and I try to snuff the loud laugh threatening to burst. Axel goes on, his voice playful and expressive as he recounts the story. An older gentleman spent the morning in the student therapy clinic convinced one of the girls in Axel’s class was his lost love. Bits are kind of sweet and sad as Axel tells me the numerous ways the guy proposed. But the way he tells it, I can’t keep laughter inside.
“That’s hilarious,” I say, and stop in front of the classroom door.
“I know, it was pretty awesome,” he says.
So, Axel called me, by the way. Yep, he called just to share a funny story. Take that weekend confusion.
“You really like what you’re doing, don’t you?” I say, a little more serious.
“Yeah, I do,” he agrees. “It fits me.”
I don’t know why that means so much, maybe it is my own passion for my studies. But I feel happy that Axel is happy. That must mean something.
“I’m about to class,” I mutter outside Nichols’s door. “The English class.”
“Oh, tell Jonas to get ready for us this weekend and tell him he’s failing. You promised you’d build my ego.”
I giggle again and sound ridiculous, but sometimes dumb laughter slips out. “I’ll do my best. Talk to you later.”
With Axel on my mind, I sneak into the class right before it begins. A low rumble in my stomach doesn’t belong, but I brush it away. Nothing is going to mess with my morning.
***
Fifty minutes later my stomach still gurgles, but I find a bit of distraction and satisfaction side-eyeing Jonas as he fiddles with the paperclip on the corner of his report. He waits behind a girl with coke-bottle glasses until his turn in line comes up. With pinched lips, he drops the papers on the small desk Nichols gave me, and rocks a bit on his heels.
“You know, all my other classes hand everything in online,” he says. “I haven’t printed out an assignment in at least two years.”
I smile and add his paper to the pile on the corner of my desk. “That’s Nichols for you. He likes things to be personal. He will require me to use the red pen, no highlighting, just good-old
fashioned red-pen editing.”
“Well, don’t think too little of me after you read it.”
“Jonas, you are so funny about your work. You’ll be just fine.” The way he looks at me, I wonder if it isn’t so much that someone else will read his assignment, I wonder more if it is because that person is me. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I gather all the papers and duck my head to hide that I’m biting my bottom lip. “So, has Jane texted you at all?”
“Yes,” he says with an intentional grin. “She invited me into her circle of friends—her exact words. I must have made a great impression.”
I tug my bag over my shoulder and flash him a grin. “Feel honored. The circle is a great place to be. Jane is the best friend anyone could have. Honestly, I don’t think you’re too heartbroken.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure we were a great fit, but I think she’s awesome and am glad to be included in the circle.”
We start walking across the campus to the small café, I like this new tradition. He holds the door open for me, and I know that I’m walking on dangerous ground. My earlier conversation with Axel fades around his brother. I see the problem, but admitting it to myself proves difficult.
“New York this weekend?” he asks once we take our seats near the large window. Jonas glances up from his cobb salad to catch my reply.
“Yes,” I breathe out—only peppermint tea for me, my stomach has taken a turn for the worse, and protests every sip. Clearing my throat, I ignore the agitated bile and try my best to smile. “I can’t wait. You sound like you’re going to have a wild weekend too.”
“How did you know?”
“Axel told me,” I say. My throat feels gravelly.
“About the weekend? Huh, okay that’s good then,” Jonas shrugs. He’s not making a lot of sense. Weird. Jonas meets my eye. “Axel has come down a few times; we always have a good time. This time he’s bringing a few friends, and even Logan decided to come up. So, we had to make plans for a big crowd.” I grimace, but Jonas notices. “What?”
“Logan is coming.”
He smiles. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t like him—well, I guess I don’t—he just loves to get right in the middle of the fighting between our families. I think he likes it. Although, Axel told me Logan was the one who encouraged him to take me out.”
Jonas tosses his lettuce on his plate, but doesn’t say anything. I sip my tea, feeling sick heat flush my face. Maybe I can’t ignore it any longer.
“You okay?” Jonas asks after a quiet pause.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? You don’t look very good.” Resting my face in my hands a wave of something gross swims around inside. Jonas stands and walks around the table. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“Don’t you have class?”
“Not for a while, and I can survive missing once.”
Jonas gathers my things, and pulls my chair out. My stomach tightens even more when he takes my hand to guide me from the café. A tremble ripples down my arms and along the back of my legs as though someone slides ice cubes over my skin. It’s not a good feeling, and I’m glad he’s guiding me. With my head in fog, my jaw clamps tightly against my angry stomach, I slip into Jonas’s car which seems astronomically far from the café. The ride to my apartment is littered with bumps and curves that threaten to spew my entire stomach over Jonas’s dashboard, but thankfully I summon the grit to keep it simmering inside.
Taking my house keys, Jonas carries all my books, my tea, my coat since I began to roast in the car, and pushes open my front door with his foot.
There isn’t time to thank him. The vomit volcano in my stomach erupts. Running toward the bathroom, I don’t even have time to close the door before it all comes out. Tears crust along my cheeks by the time it ends. Keeping my eyes closed, I flush the toilet. At least I feel a little better.
Something about an upset stomach makes me to shake and stagger around as though I live in darkness. I reach up for the towel, but instead feel the damp softness brush my hand. My eyes crack and I think I’m going to throw up again. Jonas holds the wet towel out for me. I groan.
“You don’t need to see this,” I say, wiping my face and reaching for my mouthwash and toothbrush.
He hands me a glass of water—when did he go into my kitchen? —and stands patiently at the door. “I thought I told you I don’t scare easy. How do you feel?”
“Like I want to curl up and die,” I swallow hard. My throat is dry and raw, my stomach feels full of knives every time I move. I quickly rinse my mouth and move out of the bathroom toward my bedroom. “I’m going to change.”
Jonas reaches out his hands in case I stumble, I guess. I must look a sight. When I come out of my bedroom with my extra-large, flowery blanket, he sits on my couch with another cup of minty tea and the glass of water. Without a care, I flop down like a slug, my head comes to rest half on Jonas’s knee. Tugging the fleece blanket around my shoulders I close my eyes and try to forget my upset stomach.
“You don’t have to stay,” I croak.
“No one should be alone when they’re sick,” he says. “That’s what my grandma always said, at least.”
“But your class…”
“Brita, I’ve missed classes before and I’m still pulling good enough grades to get into law school. Don’t worry about my class.”
I relent and scoot my head, so it rests completely and comfortably on his leg. Jonas doesn’t budge, he doesn’t tense up either. I offer him the remote and after some time I hear the soft laughter of a studio audience, but I don’t know the show. Eventually, when I’m starting to doze, I feel Jonas rest his hand on my shoulder.
Smiling, I whisper, “Jonas, are we friends enough that you’ll tell me what scares you?” Random question, but I am a little delirious.
“What?”
“Remember when I told you that I liked Axel, I wanted to know your deepest fear. You said we weren’t there yet. Are we there now?”
I hear through the rumbling sick in my gut that Jonas swallows hard. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I think we’re there.”
“So…”
“I’m afraid” – a pause, and another swallow – “It sounds stupid saying it out loud. I’m afraid of disappointing other people. It’s why I started school later, so while my grandma was sick I could help out at the shop. Axel went to college a year before me. I think it’s why I stay in Minnesota. I don’t ever want to disappoint anyone or add to their burdens, you know?”
My heart sort of breaks. Jonas and I really aren’t so different; both keeping things from our families, both not giving them a chance to know how we feel. Jonas surprises me though, he always seems so sure about his life. I didn’t know he opted to stay home for a year while Axel left. Does Axel recognize the sacrifices his brother made?
“Jonas,” I whisper softly, my throat raw and gritty.
“Yeah.”
“You could never disappoint me. I’m glad we’re friends.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and I am about to try again when he whispers even softer than me. “I am too.”
A dry lump in the back of my throat grows. After the fear of vomiting again passes, I slowly drift to sleep. Right there, with my head on Jonas’s lap.
***
I miss two days of classes. It is without a doubt the nastiest stomach flu I’ve ever experienced. When Thursday evening rolls around and I am still living on broth and 7-Up, my mom starts to worry we’ll need to cancel our trip. I make her promise to hang on to the last minute, but I’m worried too. Jonas stops by five times in between his classes and study groups. He brings chicken noodle soup once, but Jane ends up eating it for me. I sleep while they talk with each other. Emma and Natalie bring their collection of romantic comedy DVDs, but I always fall asleep before the first scene is over. I text Axel. He tells me to feel better, but doesn’t seem overly concerned.
But then a
s if I’ve been reborn, Friday morning brings crisp air and a settled stomach. I step outside to breathe away the sickness. Flannel pajama bottoms, a tattered sweatshirt, and a bun half out of the elastic, I look like I’ve risen from the dead.
I see Jonas’s car pull up. I should probably go clean up, but what’s the point. He’s seen me with my head in the toilet at least six times now, groaning on the couch, hair sweaty and stringy, yet he keeps showing up. The way I look today is probably glamourous in comparison.
I smile and wave, but then my hand freezes mid-wave. Jonas isn’t alone.
Stepping out of the passenger side of the car, Axel smiles his widest, opposite-of-his-twin-smile and takes off a pair of sunglasses. My stomach feel sick again, but an entirely different category of sick. I smell like I haven’t showered in two days, my skin is clammy, my hair has enough grease in it that the waves roll into dreadlocks, but there he stands. In all my fluster I can’t figure why Axel is walking toward me. He isn’t supposed to come until later—or so I thought. I guess I never asked timeframe. We simply assumed we wouldn’t see each other. Jonas walks around the front of the car. He doesn’t seem all that pleased, but I don’t know why. Then, only to add to my shame and sudden desire to melt into the snow, Logan gets out of the back seat.
“Looking good, Brita,” Logan calls out.
I quickly brush my hair from my face when Axel stands three paces away. “What…what are you doing here?”
“My buddy’s appointment is this morning. We came last night. Two more guys are still at Jonas’s with his roommate. It’s a full house,” Axel says. Oh, no. He scans me.
“I told him you were still sick,” Jonas says, coming up behind his brother.
“I’m feeling better. Uh, why don’t you guys come inside. I’ll just…I’ll just be a second.”
I rush back into my apartment, leaving them to make themselves at home. Jane is sitting at the counter, sipping her morning coffee.
“Men…coming inside now,” I hiss. “Axel is here. And no, I had no idea! Look at me!”
I blurt it all out before she even has time to ask a thing. Rolling my eyes, I turn away when she perks up, and ties her robe tighter. I hope she has clothes on underneath, but there isn’t time to ask. I dart back to the bathroom and hurriedly wash away the smell of my embarrassment.