The Heartbeat Hypothesis

by Lindsey Frydman

  Shit. “It was worth a try.”

  “Sure was,” he said. “Want another beer?”

  “No thanks.” Think I’ve had enough.

  He indulged in two more beers as we chatted about movies and music and Twizzlers again. I clicked on my phone display. Three in the morning.

  “Do you ever sleep?” I asked, my words part slurs, part whispers.

  Jake took a sip from his bottle and leaned back, sinking into the couch. “Sure. When I can get my brain to shut off.”

  “So, I’m pretty freaking drunk. I think. And…” I should’ve quit while I was ahead—but I didn’t listen to the smart little voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

  My fatal move.

  “See, Kat thinks I have a crush on you. I don’t. I mean, I do wish you’d kiss me, but crush sounds so…know what? Just forget it.” I waved my hand. “It’s late, I’m drunk, and I’m rambling. I shouldn’t be allowed to talk.” He smiled, but I was having a hard time keeping my eyes focused. “I should so go home and go to sleep.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “You can’t drive.”

  “I’ll walk you, then.”

  “No, no.” I waved my hands some more. “I’ll sleep right here.” My hand found the armrest, and my head followed. Since Jake sat on the carpet and not actually on the couch, there was plenty of room to stretch my feet out.

  “You can sleep wherever you want,” he said, getting up from the floor.

  “Mm.” I shut my eyes, predicting I would pass out in less than thirty seconds—a new record.

  A few moments passed, and Jake’s voice came from above me. “Here’s a blanket. Sorry, but it’s black.”

  I couldn’t manage to open my eyes again, but I could handle a smile. “Good thing you’re adorable,” I mumbled.

  He laughed—I think—and then said, “Good night, angel.” But maybe I was already dreaming.

  Chapter Eleven

  I awoke on Jake’s couch, his black blanket wrapped around me, and blinked through the haze of the early-morning light. My head pounded like a band had taken up residence in my head and wouldn’t shut up. I swallowed, my mouth sticky and sandpaper dry, stomach churning with the remnants of last night’s alcohol. My body reminded me of how drinking that much had been a bad idea.

  But…what was I supposed to do now?

  I’d never ended up in this situation before. I had no idea if he was still sleeping, and if so, whether I should wake him or let him sleep while I sneaked out.

  A couple minutes later, I discovered those things didn’t matter—considering Jake wasn’t even there.

  Great. I’d scared him out of his own apartment.

  I assumed he’d be back soon. Geez, I hoped so.

  At least I had some time to put my hair in order, and since Jake kept a superclean bathroom, I spent extra time in front of the mirror pinching color into my cheeks. I even did the whole “use your finger as a toothbrush” thing, but still had a mouthful of cotton—minty cotton, though.

  Minutes passed and Jake hadn’t come home, so I sent him a text.

  Me: Should I be expecting a ransom call later? Or maybe you’re faking your death and framing me?

  No response.

  My only company was an impossibly loud clock.

  Tick. Tick.

  I couldn’t believe he owned such an annoying thing, and as I imagined throwing it out the window, there came a click at the door.

  Jake walked inside, and I stood awkwardly in the center of his living room. He paused, as if the picture wasn’t quite right.

  “Morning,” he said with a smile, his hair falling into his eyes as he messed with the door and the items in his hands.

  I fiddled with the bottom of my T-shirt. “I feel like my brain exploded. Did that happen?”

  Jake laughed. “I’ll get you some Tylenol. It’ll help with the brain explosion.”

  Probably about time to get out of here. “So, thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He held up a bag. “I got McDonald’s. Didn’t know what you liked though, so I got one of…almost everything.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re against breakfast. Unless it’s a religious thing. Then I guess I could let it slide.”

  I laughed. “No. I love breakfast. Like, would marry it if I could, or like a fat kid loves—okay, you get it.”

  He handed me the bag. “Got it.”

  After consuming two thousand calories of McGoodness, Jake sat on the couch with me.

  “I bought a pie, too,” he said.

  My head whipped around. “Oh! Can we do that now?”

  Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “How about after I finish my coffee?”

  “I guess that sounds fair,” I said after a moment of debating.

  A buzzing noise sounded through the air, and it took a while for me to recognize it. My phone.

  Oh crap.

  I scrambled to pick it up. “Mom.” I cleared my throat, tried out a happier tone. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?” she said. “I’ve been knocking on your door for five minutes.”

  What?

  Oh no.

  “What time is it?” I croaked.

  “After eight, Audra. What are you doing? Are you not here?” I could tell by her voice she was growing impatient. Guess that’s where I got it from.

  I mashed my palm into my forehead and wished I had a moment to feel sorry for myself. “I’ll be there in a few, Mom. I’m sorry. See you soon.”

  I hung up because she would only keep talking, asking why I wasn’t at my dorm and how could I forget my appointment this morning—because it wasn’t like me to flake out.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said, popping off the couch and shuffling around, looking for my shoes. “I was supposed to meet my mom, and I completely, utterly fucking forgot.”

  …

  When I saw Jake in the piano room two days later, I turned bright red—I knew it because my face was so hot, I thought it may burst at any moment.

  I’d spent the past few days rethinking the night I passed out on his couch.

  At least the parts I remembered clearly.

  A few minutes into our lesson, I noticed a slow-forming grin Jake kept trying to hide, but every time he didn’t think I was looking, it was there. This was basically the opposite of how things typically went—he usually looked sadder when he thought I wasn’t looking.

  So, needless to say, my reddening cheeks were only getting worse.

  “All right, do I have spinach in my teeth or something?” I asked, sliding an inch away from him on the piano bench.

  “Did you eat spinach today?” He made a face as if spinach were code for dirt.

  “Well, no.”

  Grinning, Jake said, “Who’s Mister Yellow?”

  Oh. My. God.

  The blood trickled away from my face, and my stomach lurched. “What?” I said, knowing he would never let me play dumb about this.

  “You talk in your sleep. The other night…”

  I resisted the urge to slam my head against the piano keys. Oh shit. “Mister Yellow Blanket is my blanket from when I was a kid. I, uh, named it.”

  He wasn’t laughing, but I could see it on his face, hear it in his voice. “So kids really do name their shit? It must be a girl thing.”

  “Hey, that’s sexist.” One of my hands flew up—without my permission—and made a stop motion.

  One side of his mouth climbed higher.

  “Boys name their blankets and toys, too.” I yanked my hand down. They did, didn’t they?

  “Nah. I never did.”

  “Maybe you’re weird.”

  “You named your blanket, and I’m weird?”

  I paused, fighting back a grin. “Uh-huh, that’s what I’m going with.”

  He gave me a crooked smile, his hand reaching out to push hair behind my ear. “I think someone’s having delusions of grandeur.”
>
  “Don’t be a dick,” I murmured, fixing my gaze on the sheet music, though my brain was still focused on the warmth of his fingers trailing down the side of my neck.

  “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

  Sheet music forgotten, I glared at him, my cheeks blazing again. “When am I going to get to smash that pie in your face, huh?”

  He lowered his hand. “When you stop calling me names.”

  That might never happen.

  When our lesson was over, we headed out of the piano room, and I spotted Jake’s camera bag slung over his shoulder, along with his messenger bag.

  “Taking pictures today?” I asked, and when he nodded I said, “Isn’t it going to be dark in like thirty minutes?”

  “Night photography is a thing.”

  I frowned, feeling stupid. “What are you taking pictures of?”

  We walked down the steps of the rec center, toward the front doors. Passing the gym, which had glass walls, I peered in at the students running on the treadmill, lifting weights, and the few who looked as if they didn’t know what a weight was.

  He moved to the right to give a group of students enough space to walk past us. Our shoulders bumped, and even after the oncoming students cleared, Jake stayed within inches of me. The back of his hand brushed against mine—it might’ve been an accident, but I chose to believe it was on purpose. “Haven’t decided. The mountains maybe,” he said. “I finished shooting for my midterm assignment, so I’m starting on the final.”

  A thought shocked my blood with a cool rush of panic. “Those photos you took of me… Are other people going to see them?”

  Turning his head to stare at me, he lifted one brow, only increasing my feeling of stupidity. “What good would the photos be if no one saw them?”

  Right. “But I haven’t even seen them.” I didn’t get to approve. Maybe I looked stupid, or weird, or not so hot. “Do I get to see them ever?”

  Jake shrugged, looking away from me. “It’s not like I’m keeping them from you. It’s not a big secret.”

  I gripped my bag tighter and smashed my lips to keep from pressing the issue because his body screamed subject closed.

  Finally out in the night air, Jake slowed his step and nodded out in the distance. “I’m parked over there. You want a ride back to the dorms?”

  I breathed slowly, trying to capture the thoughts swimming in my head, trying to decide if they should be heard. Because all the things I wanted from Jake were things I shouldn’t want. Things he didn’t want to give me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’d be great.”

  Neither of us said a word while he drove me to the parking lot. His car idled as I sat still, my fingers twitching over my bag.

  “Do you want company?” I finally asked.

  He remained motionless, blinking a few times. Then he angled his head, the parking lot lamps casting a glow against one side of his face and that crooked smile. “You want to come with me?”

  “If you want company.”

  He laughed—barely—and looked away, like he was laughing at some personal joke, and maybe he was slightly offended by it. “You’re not wearing heels, are you?”

  “Have you ever seen me wear heels?”

  He looked down at my feet—even though they couldn’t be seen in the dark truck. “Guess not. All right. You might get bored, though.”

  “Doubt it.”

  His smile grew. “If you say so.”

  “I don’t mean to sound concerned but…where the hell are we?” I had lost track of all the turns through the woods, trees, and prickly bushes.

  We’d only gone a few miles outside of campus, but I was certain I’d starve to death if he abandoned me there.

  “Don’t worry. I come here all the time.”

  “Sounds like some famous last words.”

  Jake laughed. “Seriously. I do come here all the time. I could do this blindfolded.”

  “No one could do this blindfolded.”

  The moon provided little in the way of light, so I could only see a few feet in front of me. Since Jake was wearing black—surprise—I watched his hair as a guide for where to go.

  He hopped down a hill that looked intimidating in the dark, but he made it to the bottom like he had military-grade night vision.

  “Uh.” I hesitated. “I can’t afford to break a leg.”

  He made a snorting sound, and I could picture him grinning. “You won’t break a leg.” Within moments he stood in front of me. “Here.”

  Now close enough to see his outstretched hand, I slowly wrapped my fingers around his. We stumbled down the hill—thanks to me—as I squeezed his hand too tightly. At the bottom, my upper body collided into his.

  He ran both hands up my arms, steadying me. “Almost there,” he whispered near my ear. “Just up this hill.”

  Up the hill?

  Jake gently squeezed my shoulders and pulled his hands back. I balled my fingers together and followed him, trying to steady my breathing.

  After my physical therapy ended a year and a half ago, I only did minor exercises. Mostly yoga and walking to keep my body and health intact. Exercising to lose weight or gain muscles had never been a concern. Maybe it was time I paid more visits to the free gym facilities.

  But the view—oh, this view. It was so worth all the scratches across my arms from the wild tree branches.

  I’d thought our camping night was beautiful. But this was better. Way better.

  The moon glowed orange, huge overhead, turning the clouds a deep purple. And from where we stood, I could see the silhouette of the quiet mountains in the distance. Giant trees missing half their leaves surrounded us. The other half of the dying leaves lay beneath our feet, crackling as we walked over them.

  “Whoa,” I murmured, taking it all in.

  Jake already had his camera out. He fiddled with it on his tripod.

  I found a spot on the grass while he worked silently. Blades between my fingers made me think of our photo session—and then I was thinking about the ridiculous things I’d said. A warm blush crept up my neck. One that tickled and made my skin itchy.

  “How’d you find this place?” I asked, running my hands along the ground.

  Judging by the crease in his forehead and the taut line of his jaw, he was thinking hard about his answer. But he wasn’t trying to remember.

  He was deciding how much he wanted to share.

  “I was looking for a beautiful place one time,” he said softly, putting his head near the back of the camera and turning a knob. “And then I found this hill. Stopped looking after that.”

  “A beautiful place to photograph?”

  His hands stopped moving. He pulled his head back, angling it toward the ground. “In a way.”

  “That’s very vague of you.”

  Jake fiddled with the camera—which looked like it cost more than a mediocre car—and backed away. His laugh was a soft, vibrating sound. “You just ask weird questions.” Shoes crunched over rocks and leaves as he inched closer to where I sat.

  “What? Weird how?”

  “How do you think I found this place?” He lowered himself beside me, gave me a grin I’d buy if I didn’t know him at all. “How does anyone find anything?”

  A fountain of puzzle pieces spewing from his mouth. “By…looking for it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re completely insane.” I laughed, shaking my head. “So I’m not sure what that makes me.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  His eyes reflected the starlight, which got me thinking about stars again. And other finite things.

  I said, “I like you. And that maybe makes me nuts.”

  “Are you trying to offend me, angel?” His voice was deep, full of an emotion I couldn’t pin down.

  My heart, that stupid thing—just kidding, I love you, stupid heart—adored hearing him speak that way. “Are you offended?”

  “Mm. Maybe.”

  “Why did you call me th
at?” It came out low, quivering like it made me nervous. And maybe it did.

  His grin faded. He dipped his head, shifted his torso until his lips were inches from mine. Close enough to—

  Not close enough.

  “It suits you.” Simple. Solid. Sincere.

  It squeezed my heart, made it sing and cry all at once.

  Our breaths mingled together in the air between our mouths—still so close. A clicking sound came from the camera, oddly loud when surrounded by so much quiet.

  Inhale. Exhale. Again. Again.

  “Jake…”

  And then he pressed his lips against mine, and it took too many frantic heartbeats to realize he was kissing me.

  My mouth opened to his. There was fire, urgency, and need burning between us. Hot, yet tame. Slow, but intense. His hands grazed my face and neck, then wound around my back. He pulled me closer, and my own hands found his chest, fisted against his sweatshirt as I fell into him. I forgot to breathe, because who needed to breathe when there was this.

  When our lips broke apart, his hands moved to cup my face. He slowly caressed my cheeks and placed a kiss against my forehead.

  Surely this was a dream.

  I blinked, steadied my heart rate as best I could, and finally got my voice to work. “Thought you said you weren’t going to do that? You know…the habit thing.”

  He could’ve lit fires with the smile he gave. “I have enough bad habits, might as well have a good one, too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I was having more fun coming up with Kat/Matt jokes in my head than I was at this party. Maybe parties weren’t my thing.

  That couldn’t be right.

  “You could at least try to look like you don’t want to stab your eyes out.” Kat, suddenly in front of me, crossed her arms and gave me her practiced death glare.

  “I wasn’t thinking about stabbing my own eyes.” Actually, I was making fun of your choice in boy.

  Worse—that was worse.

  Kat scowled, assessing me. Her mouth pulled into a thin line, the way it always did when she attempted to—as she called it—read my wordy face.

  “I like him, Audra. Pretend to care.” She bumped her hip into mine, a wicked grin playing on her lips.

  “Uh-huh. The same way you liked Brent? And Dillan? And— Ow.” My fingers flew to my arm. “You pinched me,” I said with a laugh.