The Heartbeat Hypothesis

by Lindsey Frydman

  He laughed, pulling his hands onto his lap. “Guess so.”

  After searching through the top drawer and then the second, I finally found my swimsuit in the third drawer. When I turned around, Jake stood in front of my short end table, holding a picture frame in his hand.

  He set it down when he noticed me watching and said, “Weird.”

  It was a photo of Mom, Dad, and me. I was twelve and had been in one of those awful hair stages—pigtails and super-short bangs. So maybe he was commenting on my hair. Or maybe it was the bright mint-green shirt I wore.

  “No brothers or sisters?” he asked, sticking his hands into his pockets.

  “Nope. Only child.” Or as Mom liked to say, her only sweet baby girl.

  Jake scratched his neck, then proceeded to thrust his hand back in his pocket.

  I shoved my suit into my purse and sent a quick text to Kat.

  Me: Kind of hanging out with Jake. Getting in his car. Going to his place. If you don’t hear from me soon, send a search party.

  I sent one more text with his address. Just in case.

  I looked up. “So, glow sticks?”

  “Glow sticks.”

  Chapter Four

  Jake drove an old, beat-up truck, and honestly, he looked good sitting in it. A giant hunk of metal, all rusted and neglected, but he sat comfortably inside the destruction, smelling like mint leaves and freshness.

  Thirty minutes later, we were in possession of an absurd number of glow sticks and were headed back to his apartment.

  Holy shit. This was really happening.

  “What was Emily like?” The words came out of my mouth, and I insta-regretted them.

  He met my gaze when he stopped at a red light. “She was your average little sister, I guess. Too full of energy. Annoying and overdramatic at times. But she was smart. Had lots of friends. She was…happy.”

  “What about your parents?”

  I saw the light turn green in my peripheral. He didn’t move. Two seconds passed. Then five more.

  He pressed down on the gas, looking away. “There’s no simple way to sum them up. It’s not a story you want to hear anyway. What about your family? Must’ve been nice being an only child.”

  I shrugged, gazing through the windshield. “I don’t know. Sometimes it was. But other times, I’d wished I had a sibling so my parents didn’t spend all of their time and energy worrying about me.”

  They still would’ve, though, considering my heart condition, so maybe it was best that they never had another kid.

  “Hey, at least they loved you enough to care.” His tone was light, but I didn’t quite believe the smile he gave me.

  The car turned left once, and then again before slowing to a stop. I breathed in, my heart pumping fiercely, fingers twitching.

  This was what I wanted. Well, not this per se, but the done-it list. Doing some of it with Jake might make it better.

  “Let’s go,” he said, hopping out of the truck.

  His apartment and my dorm room were like night and day. Mine was pink and white unicorns, purple photo frames, and quilts with proper names—like Mister Yellow Blanket. His was white walls and black furniture, minimal and modern, tidy but lived-in.

  Photos covered some of the blank wall space. Black-and-white photographs in black-and-white frames.

  “You know black isn’t a color, right?” I said, giving him a half smile.

  “No. White isn’t a color. Black is all the colors. It’s a color.”

  “Maybe.”

  He nodded, a hint of satisfaction barely there at the corner of his mouth.

  “These photographs,” I said, assessing them. “They’re pretty incredible.”

  “Thanks. Most of them are from last year. From an independent study.”

  “Why all black and white?”

  “Because I happen to like the color black.”

  I looked from the photo I’d been admiring—a close-up shot of a tree branch with a faded background that reminded me of cloudy milk—to a few books lying haphazardly on the coffee table. Some of the titles included Advanced Photoshop Techniques and Ansel Adams: The Camera.

  Most people who took photos like he did would post them all over Instagram. I’d never seen half of these on any of his social media sites. Did he think they weren’t good enough to show off? If that was the case, he was so wrong.

  I did a slow circle, observing his apartment. There weren’t any music or piano books lying around, but he knew how to play. “Are you taking music classes, too?”

  “No, piano is just—” His lips froze in place for a moment. “Just a hobby.” He turned away, meandering across the room, effectively ending the conversation. Grabbing the bag, he lifted a box of glow sticks, studying it with a mischievous grin. “I hope we bought enough of these.”

  Oh, there were enough. The entire pool lit up with misdirected lines of light. Blues, greens, yellows, and reds reflected off the water, jumped through the sky, and bounced around the abandoned swimming area.

  Staring at the water made me giggle. “But seriously, who would think of this?”

  “Emily was random like that,” Jake said, staring at the pool, standing next to me. “This was from the Fourth of July three years ago. She didn’t get to see any fireworks, so glow sticks were a consolation prize. But it does look pretty awesome.”

  It sure did. “But what if we get caught?” This was the third time I’d asked since seeing the Closed, Do Not Enter sign on the fence. Even though the person in charge of locking up the pool at night clearly didn’t do a good job, the rules about it being closed after dark were posted in multiple places.

  He grinned momentarily. “We’re already here, and we’ve already tossed dozens of glow sticks into the pool. Too late for second-guessing now.”

  With that, he lifted his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the ground behind us. I tried not to stare at his broad chest or those ab muscles working as he kicked his sandals off, which went flump against the pavement.

  He glanced at me before diving into the pool, arms outstretched above his head. Cold water sprayed my skin, and he disappeared beneath the pale blue surface.

  A few seconds later I still stood at the edge, staring down. Despite the chilly air, my nerve endings were on fire.

  Jake popped up on the other side of the pool, shook his head, and wiped his eyes with the back of his palm. “What are you doing still standing there? With your clothes on?”

  The fire intensified, making a beeline for my cheeks, and hopefully he was far enough away to miss it. “Um. I didn’t know I was supposed to be ready.”

  “You weren’t ready?” He laughed. “What were you waiting for, a bright neon sign that said Jump?”

  “No. I—I don’t know.”

  He swam over to the edge, then gripped it and pulled his body partially out of the water. I got a clear view of his shoulders and the tanned skin covering taut muscles and couldn’t look away. My heart thumped so hard, I broke out in a sweat.

  Jake chuckled and shook his head. His gaze dropped to my legs and his chest rose with a slow inhale before looking back up. “What are you waiting for now?” His voice was lower this time, and I was almost positive he was smirking at me.

  “I…just need to…uh.” I backed up, gently kicked my flip-flops onto the pavement, and wiggled out of my jeans. Even though this swimsuit fit perfectly, and the royal-blue material shimmered beautifully against the light, it didn’t cover the scar running between my breasts. I’d worn it ten times over the summer, and I’d never been worried about people staring or wondering. But now my fingers hesitated on the bottom of my tank top.

  Jake called out, “What are you doing?”

  Oh, just stalling. I forced the shirt over my head and tossed it next to my jeans before turning around and heading toward the stairs. “Getting in. What does it look like?”

  He shook his head. “You can’t use the steps. Dive in.”

  “What? No way. I’m not diving
.”

  “Come on. Dive in.”

  “No.” I eyed the steps. “The list didn’t say anything about diving. So I’m not diving.”

  “Emily would call you a baby for not doing it.”

  “She would, or you would?”

  He pushed himself off the wall, swimming backward through the water. “She would. I’m not that mean.”

  I laughed. “Sure you’re not. I bet she learned it from you.”

  “That’s a secret I’m holding on to.”

  Jake disappeared beneath the trip-inducing colored water, and I used that as my opportunity to dive. If I looked like an idiot—and I would—I didn’t want him to see. The water glided over my body all at once, and the sensation of weightlessness hit me immediately. The entire world fell away and it was only me, the silence, and the nothingness.

  I resurfaced, blinking the water out of my eyes, searching for Jake.

  “You cheater.”

  A squeaking noise escaped my lips and I jumped, spinning around. “What?”

  “You didn’t dive, did you?” He swam closer until he was only a couple feet away.

  “Yes, I did. I dived in while you weren’t looking.”

  “How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked, tipping his head.

  I skimmed the top of the water with both hands. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  With a laugh, Jake shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Nuh-uh.” I shook my head. “You didn’t see me, so you’ll never know. Sooo…you can either believe me or not. The way I see it, you might as well trust me.”

  Eerie silence, combined with the cool night air and even cooler water, made my skin prickle. The ice in my veins was just as penetrating as the fire previously coursing through them.

  The multicolored lights at the bottom of the pool highlighted his face in a somber orange color, emphasizing the hard line of his lips and the flatness in his eyes. “That’s not how trust works.”

  “That’s how it works for me.” My voice sounded far away, like I was still underwater. “I’d rather give someone the benefit of the doubt.”

  “You must not get screwed over a lot.”

  Before I could respond, he vanished beneath the water’s surface. He stayed there long enough for my heart to start racing. I could hold my breath for ten seconds, maybe a little more—but it had been at least thirty.

  Jake popped back up at the far end of the pool, where the water was only a few feet deep. I tried to assess his face, but from so far away, all I saw were faded outlines. I considered his statement but didn’t like the way it sat in the back of my mind, like a drafty window I couldn’t quite fix.

  He climbed out of the pool and moseyed to the other end. I probably shouldn’t have stared as intently as I did, but oh boy, he was nice to look at. Effortlessly in shape, lean and toned—but there was something off about his stride.

  He walked like the weight on his shoulders was too much to carry.

  Sad.

  I knew what that looked like. I’d seen my parents do it many times—all those days when they thought I would die, knew I would die, unless a miracle happened.

  And then that miracle did happen.

  You’re so lucky. That’s what they said. My parents and the doctors, the nurses and my friends, and every stranger who ever heard my story. For weeks after my surgery, that’s all I thought about. I’d woken up with a brand-new heart. I’d get to go to prom and graduate from high school instead of going in the ground and having a tree planted in my name.

  I was lucky. So incredibly lucky. To be alive and breathing, to be given a second chance to live life any way I wanted. But looking at Jake, understanding his pain…that wasn’t lucky.

  His sister was dead and here I was, hanging out with him, using her heart to remind him of her absence.

  He must hate me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked when Jake had made a full circle around the pool deck, staring at it like a specimen under a microscope.

  He headed for the gated fence, and my heart thumped once as if to say he’s leaving you all alone! But then he said, “I’m going to get my camera from the truck.” He shoved his feet into his sandals. “I’ll be back.”

  If I got caught out here, people would assume I was on something—some crazy college girl doing crazy drugs—and then they’d throw me in jail when I tried to explain that no, I was not high, I just thought glow sticks in a pool would be awesome.

  But this was actually cool—I mean, so cool. Emily had been onto something. I decided to float in my personal sea of colors until someone kicked me out. Or tossed me in jail.

  I stared up at the endless night sky, and with my ears submerged beneath the water, imagined I was floating in space. After a few minutes of drifting, I swam to the steps, leaned against the railing, and waited, the waterline dipping right below my chest.

  Right as I began wondering if Jake had ditched me, I spotted him to my left, gigantic oversize lens in tow.

  “That thing is huge,” I said.

  He lifted it a few inches, adjusting something. “I could make a bad joke out of that, you know.”

  “Ha. Ha.” But my cheeks warmed and I looked away to hide it.

  He walked around the deck, lifting and lowering his camera while I watched the muscles in his back flex. And when the light hit them just right, I could see a few faint scars—long lines of lighter skin. A painful childhood bike accident, maybe? A fall from a tree house?

  But I couldn’t ask something like that, so I kept my mouth shut and watched.

  “What are you planning to do with your photography degree?” I asked after the silence began clawing at my brain.

  He paused, shrugged one shoulder, and said, “Take photographs.”

  I pressed my lips together because I couldn’t decide if he was being facetious.

  He found a seat on the edge of the steps, letting his feet dangle into the water. “It doesn’t matter as long as I get to use this.” He lifted the camera. “Maybe I’ll become a millionaire. Maybe I’ll be dead broke the rest of my life and have to live in a cardboard box.”

  “What will you do when it rains?”

  He reached out a hand and moved a piece of wet hair away from my cheek, his warm fingers lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary, then he smiled. “Get soggy, I guess.”

  My breath caught, and my pulse quickened. I looked away. “Maybe invest in a lot of plastic. It’d be like a raincoat…for your house.”

  “Look at you, all full of ideas.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved my fingers, sending water droplets flying through the air. “You can thank me later when your cardboard home is safe from the rain.”

  “Maybe I’ll cook you dinner in my rain-free house.”

  “To be honest, I might pass on that.”

  He picked up his camera again, still wearing a half grin.

  My heart thumped in my ears when he aimed it at me. “Can I be honest? I’m not really a fan of pictures. Not of me, anyway. So this is…a lot harder than I thought it’d be.”

  “What girl isn’t interested in photos of herself?”

  The large round lens still pointed directly at my face, but since he never buried his head behind the camera, I couldn’t tell when he was actually taking a picture.

  “This one,” I said, pointing at myself for emphasis. “This girl is not a selfie fan.” My face always looked too round, too pale.

  Jake’s gaze trailed down toward my chest, but his lips pressed together in a way that made me think his focus wasn’t on my scar. “You may as well be. You’re beautiful.”

  My cheeks warmed. Something fluttered in my stomach. He’s just a guy. Just an exceptionally attractive guy. Who’s also my heart donor’s brother.

  I failed to hide my stupid grin. “Thank you, but I’m still not a selfie girl.”

  “I’ll make sure the shot I send you is ‘artistic.’” He chuckled softly and set the camera down behind him. With h
is arms stretched, I spotted the tattoo on his left side, above his ribs. It was dark ink, and the glow sticks only provided so much light, but it was definitely a bird. There were no other details I could make out, and when he turned back, the entire thing faded from view. “So, what’re you majoring in?” he asked.

  I resisted a snort. “Currently undecided.” How the hell was I supposed to know what I wanted to do for the next fifty-plus years?

  When I was a sixteen-year-old in heart failure, college was the furthest thing from my mind. I didn’t know how long I’d live, and I knew if I made it through high school, there was no way I was going to spend my final month or year—or whatever—in a stuffy classroom. So I never gave much thought to my life’s vocation.

  “Undecided isn’t that uncommon,” he said, swishing his feet through the water.

  “It feels uncommon.”

  Jake looked up at the dark sky and tipped his head to the left. “I know what you mean.”

  I stared at the side of his face, at the straight line of his nose, and when he looked at me, I didn’t look away. He leaned closer until his mouth was inches from mine, his lips curving upward. His gaze lowered, and my heart rattled within its cage at the desire overtaking his features.

  Or I could’ve been making that up in my head.

  “Maybe we can be cardboard house neighbors. I’ll share my plastic with you,” I said.

  His gaze slowly slid upward, his smile spreading wider. “Sounds like a pretty good plan to me.”

  Chapter Five

  After the night with the glow sticks, Jake didn’t talk to me for an entire week. I’d meant to get his number but didn’t, so I relied on Facebook, which wasn’t working because he’d been a ghost. I thought we had fun, that it ended well.

  But I could have been delusional, drunk on the swirling lights—who knew?

  My lungs tightened thinking about Jake. Because maybe if I were him, I’d have hated me too.

  Emily is dead.

  But I wanted and needed these photographs, so I needed Jake.

  I rolled over on my bed—where I’d been lying for twenty minutes—and stared at the English textbook I’d left propped open. Homework. That’s what I needed to be doing. I was in the middle of reading a short story about a woman who had ten cats that kept slowly disappearing. Super creepy.