by Amy Daws
I smile at her. “I’m really proud of you, A.” She begins to shake her head, attempting to deflect my serious and sincere compliment. I put my hand on her leg. “I’m serious. I’m proud of you.”
She conceals a small smirk and I see her shoulders rise fractionally with confidence. “Next guy I date is going to be someone that peaks my interest. Not someone I think would act proper at a political event.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I will say though,” she starts, turning her wide dark eyes on me, “It didn’t take me being hammered to speak my truth!” She clears her throat pointedly.
That sinking feeling comes crashing back. “Yeah, alcohol does things to me, doesn’t it?”
“You’re telling me. What’s your plan?” she asks, standing up and mussing her hair.
“I’m gonna go over there, I guess.” I glance at myself in my closet door mirror. I look like death warmed up twice.
“Well, don’t grovel. It’s beneath you, Finley. You’re stronger than that.” She looks at me kindly and I grin in return. “Good luck,” she finishes, exiting my room.
“Thanks, I’m going to need it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My nerves feel electrical as I walk across the parking lot toward Jake’s door. The same door I’ve come in and out of so many times these past few weeks. I have to fix this. As annoying as Jake’s mixed signals are, he didn’t deserve to be publicly humiliated in front of a crowd. It’s obvious now he doesn’t want me for a relationship, so I need to settle for just being his friend. As sad as it makes me, I’m not ready to lose him completely.
I smooth down my thin gray hoodie and pull it over my daisy dukes. I take one quick breath and knock, feeling millions of anxious sparks firing in my abdomen. I hear the TV on, so I know he’s here. Oh, God, what if he doesn’t answer?
Just when I’m trying to come to grips with the idea that he may not want to see me, his door flies open, revealing a deliciously-rumpled looking Jake. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white V-neck undershirt. Seriously, does he have to look hot in even sweatpants? As if having a mind of their own, my eyes drink in the tall, broad sight of him.
“Hey,” I say, and jam my hands into the front pouch of my hoodie.
“Hey,” he says, looking past me out into the parking lot at nothing in particular.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I just woke up from a nap a little bit ago. I’m just watching some TV now.” His voice is flat. Detached.
“That’s cool. You have practice today?” I ask hoping to warm him up.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Weight training, yeah.”
I look into his dark eyes, hoping to see a glimmer of friendliness, but I’m only greeted with indifference.
“Jake,” I start, but he cuts me off before I can finish.
“I’m sorry, Finley,” he says with a sigh and I look up at him confused. “I shouldn’t have freaked on you like that.”
“I’m sorry!” I reply, dubiously. “You didn’t deserve half the shit I said to you. I was drunk and I didn’t even know what I was saying…” I trail off, knowing what I’m saying is a total cop-out, yet somehow I can’t help myself. At this point, I just want to minimize the honesty of my feelings last night. My ego demands it.
“Yeah, you were downing shots like someone who’d just broken out of rehab. I know your tolerance...you should stick to beer in the future.” He offers me a lopsided smile, and I smile back.
“Still friends?” I ask, feeling myself cringe at the sadness that word brings me, but I know I need to get over it. It’s quite obvious it’s all we’ll ever be.
“Of course,” he replies, laughing, and pulls me into his apartment.
***
“You ready?” Jake asks, as I open the door to a blast of early morning sunlight.
“Yep, you have our book, right?” I ask, quickly throwing my lanyard over my head and pushing my arms through my backpack.
“Got it,” he informs, backing away from the door with me following close behind.
We walk together to our Civic Duty class. It’s a 10 a.m. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday class, comprised of mostly seniors. Jake and I hung out the rest of the afternoon yesterday, and almost the entire evening. Angela texted me several times to see when I was coming home. I felt ashamed at how easily I let Jake and I slip back into our old friendly ways. Here Angela is, finally being the strong, confident woman I always wanted her to be, and I’m being weak and pathetic. I feel like the biggest hypocrite.
For whatever reason, I just couldn’t tear myself away from his apartment. When his roommate arrived, I tried to excuse myself, but Jake begged me to stay for pizza. Then pizza turned into a movie, and a movie turned into couch cuddling, and before I knew it, we’d fallen right back into our old habits. That wasn’t the first time Jake and I cuddled, but it was the first time I’d fallen asleep in his arms. Dammit all to hell, I loved it.
Jake tosses his arm casually around my shoulders as we stroll through campus. I try to ignore the looks we get from the other girls, because despite how this may appear, I know it’s nothing more than just a buddy being chummy with his friend. I know this. But damn, why does he have to smell so good? As we continue walking to class, I silently berate myself for the tiny glimmer of hope I’m letting seep into my brain. Hope is what hurts when shit hits the fan. Hope can be a bitch, and I need that bitch to give me a wakeup call before it’s too late.
We find Martin’s classroom and quickly nab two desks right next to each other. I glance around and see Jen, Olivia’s roommate, sitting across the room with another girl. She gives me a subtle head nod and I wave back in response. I’m certain she saw the ridiculous spectacle I caused Saturday night and I feel a brief moment of shame. Jake leans over and whispers some crack about asking her for a smoke. I shove him away, feeling grateful we’re at least back to normal again.
Professor Martin comes in, addresses the class, and assigns us a project. We need to pair off with someone and come up with a list of questions about what it means to be a critical thinker in today’s society. The questions are due by Wednesday, so Jake and I pair off and plan to work on them tomorrow night, since he has a night class later.
After class, Jake offers to walk me to the computer lab because I have to work until my 2:00 class this afternoon. When we arrive, I glance in and see Parni at her designated computer. I nod and smile up at Jake.
“Your best friend is still here,” he says, glancing past me into the lab.
“I know, I thought maybe her schedule would conflict with my work hours. No such luck I guess.”
He rumbles a soft laugh and tucks a piece of my loose brown hair behind my ear. “What do you want for lunch, the usual?”
I shy away from his hand lingering in my hair, feeling my protective shield rise. “You don’t have to bring me lunch,” I answer. I need to stop letting him do everything for me. It’s too much. I can’t handle it.
“I want to. Same thing I always bring you?”
I look deeply into his eyes and see nothing but a thoughtful friend. I nod, and he pulls me in for a bear hug. I watch him turn and stroll out of the building. Why am I so damn weak? I have to stop letting him get so close to me. I would have thought after my scene Saturday night, he’d back off and give me some space since my feelings were blatantly on display. But if anything, he seems to be trying to get closer. If I was confused before, I’m baffled now.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The following night, Jake comes over to work on our list of questions. Typically, we’d be at his apartment, but now that his roommate, Tayton, is around, he figures he needs to give him some space to get settled. Tayton seems nice enough. He’s the basketball team’s manager. When I first saw him come in the other night, I instantly thought of Andrew Garfield. He’s definitely got that attractive nerd look down pat, whether he was trying or not.
I let Jake into our apartment and we pass Angela, sprawled out on the living room cou
ch watching a movie. She looks pretty mopey, and my heart aches for her. Despite being proud of her strength in breaking it off with Luke, she’s still grieving the loss of a relationship. I tried talking to her last night about how she’s doing, but she was pretty closed off about it. If there’s one thing I know about Angela, you can’t push her to talk about her feelings. I can’t ask her for the cracks like I can with Lez. A talks when A wants to talk—and not a minute sooner. She did eventually tell me her new goal is to stay single for a while and start feeling okay without the presence of a man in her life. I smile at her customary way of tackling every area in her life with a concrete plan of action.
Jake tweaks my sides as I close the bedroom door and I squeal loudly, “Don’t do that! I’m horribly ticklish.” I laugh, and bat his hands away, following him to my bed where the contents of my backpack are sprawled all over the top of my gray paisley comforter.
Jake smirks cheekily at me, and pulls his bag off to grab a notepad and pen. I’m happy to see playful Jake again. We’ve definitely put our fight behind us. We even seem to be entering into a newer, deeper part of our friendship that I’m really enjoying. But I’m mad at myself for enjoying it because it’s only causing sparks of hope to fly inside of me.
He sprawls out on my bed next to me, stretching his long legs down the entire length of my bed. Gosh, he’s tall. He’s wearing a pair of loose basketball shorts and a grey Nike t-shirt. I catch him eyeing me thoughtfully, and squirm slightly. Wondering if he noticed me checking him out, I brazenly squint at him. He beams back like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“When’s your friend coming again?” he asks, rubbing his chin like he’s contemplating something.
“Leslie?” I squeak, completely unable to contain my excitement. “Tomorrow!” I haven’t been able to speak to Leslie as much since she moved to London, and I miss her like crazy. If anyone can help me through this Jake confusion, it’s her.
“Cool. We should take her to The Tank to dance or something. I’m sure it’ll be packed full of students by now,” he says, fumbling the edge of my comforter as we both settle ourselves into comfortable positions.
“Yes, that would be awesome. Knowing her, she’ll be ready to hit the ground running as soon as she gets here.”
“Yeah, The Tank will be awesome.”
“Good idea,” I smile thoughtfully. I love that he’s thinking of my friend’s visit and suggesting places to take her.
“You should go visit her in London for Spring Break maybe.” He states, deadpan.
“Oh Lord, that sounds cheap!” I laugh, half-heartedly.
“You’re always reading those London books. You should just do it.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.
I smile at him again. During one of our many late-night conversations, I rattled on and on to him, way too much, about my love for British chick-lit.
“Maybe someday,” I say, placating his idea but not really considering it.
“Maybe I can come with you. I’ve never been outside the United States. It sounds like it could be fun,” he says, as he casually begins flipping through our textbook.
I beg myself, my body, and my brain to not read too much into that statement. Despite myself, my mind flashes to us touring the streets of London, hand in hand, as a happy couple in love. Freaking hell. A female’s mind is way too imaginative. Friends, Finley! Jake just wants to be friends. Stop doing this to yourself!
I clear my throat. “So, we gotta come up with some questions on what being a critical thinker in today’s world means to us,” I say, sitting crisscross on the bed.
“You look cute today,” he drawls, clearly ignoring my urge to start working. I look up in confusion at the husky tone in his voice. His eyes look meaningfully into mine and I fidget and look away, quickly. I glance down at my outfit, trying to see it through his eyes. I guess I do look a little cuter than usual, but since classes aren’t yet stressing me out, I make more time to get dressed in the morning. Still, it’s a simple pair of salmon plaid shorts and a white off-the-shoulder top. “You know, I haven’t seen you all day. It was weird,” Jake finishes, pulling the shoulder of my top up onto my shoulder more. It slithers down instantly and he bites his lip.
“I know. Did you go this morning?” I ask smiling in response to his comment. My classes start too early on Tuesdays for me to make it to Chaz’s for my coffee. I told Jake that on Monday and he pouted for a good five minutes.
“Yep, I went. You weren’t there. It was a sad day,” he says, moping, as he playfully trails his finger on my kneecap. “Where’d you get this scar?” His brow furrows as he looks at the white bumpy area of skin.
The tickling sensation of his finger outlining my scar sends instant shivers straight to my groin. I clear my throat. “I, um,” I choke out. Get your shit together, Finley. “I wish I had a cool story to tell you, but honestly, I was just a klutz. I was driving a moped on Leslie’s farm and wiped out on the gravel. It was nasty. I was like a freshman in high school I think. Just another part of my awesome and talented coordination!”
His laughter rumbles in his chest. He then spreads all five fingers across my knee and strokes it affectionately. Jesus. I never knew a kneecap could be an erotic zone on my body, but I’ll be damned. If it’s Jake LaShae’s large, warm hands doing the touching, it’s erotic as hell.
“That tickles,” I laugh, delicately shoving his shoulder. I hate how girlie I sound right now.
He captures my hand on his shoulder and holds it there, stroking his thumb over the back of my hand. I frown and look into his deep brown eyes. His expression morphs from friendly to lustful—needy. I exhale a shaky breath.
“Jake,” I whisper, as he strokes his hand down my wrist, to my elbow and then slowly up to my shoulder. When his palm meets my bare shoulder and pauses, I lean into it and close my eyes, relishing in his touch. He rubs the pad of his thumb over my collarbone, and my lips part in response.
The need I feel in my core for Jake to kiss me is at an all time high. I feel like I’m free-falling off a cliff right now, waiting for this incredibly tumultuous feeling inside me to go away. I lean forward slightly, expecting to find his lips, but instead I feel the bed shift and his hand is suddenly gone. I flutter my eyes open and see him quickly tossing his stuff back into his backpack.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to register the expression on his face, but his head is dropped too low for me to get a good look.
“I…uhh, have to go,” he clips out, awkwardly.
“What? We just started…” I reply, not sure what I’m referring to. Our homework or our—whatever the hell that just was.
“No, I mean, yeah,” he stutters, and glances out the window, avoiding eye contact. “I just forgot I was supposed to be at open gym to shoot free-throws with Coach. I gotta run. I’m already super late.”
“What about the assignment?” I ask, feeling my anxiety rise.
“I’ll do some, you do some, and we can put them together in the morning before class. Just email yours to me, I’ll do it,” he finishes abruptly, and turns to exit. He comes back and drops a chaste kiss on the top of my head, completely avoiding eye contact.
“Jake!” I say, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look back.
I get up quickly and rush to the window and watch him walk swiftly to his apartment. I continue watching and see him enter his bedroom and immediately close his curtains. What the fuck was that all about?
***
This morning, I assumed Jake would pick me up at our usual time to head over to Chaz’s, but when he didn’t show up and the time on the clock was ticking away, I decided to just go without him. Last night, I emailed him the questions I came up with and he responded with one word—Thanks. I stared at that single, solitary word for ten minutes, willing it to explain this tangled mess.
My obsession over him is interrupted when my phone chirps and I open a text from Leslie.
Leslie: FIN FIN! On my way! Should be there
after lunch!!!! I want to add more exclamation points to this message, but there’s a guy at the gas station looking at me like he wants to wear my skin. See you soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I smile sadly, and busy myself cleaning up my apartment to prepare for my best friend in the world’s arrival.
After getting showered and ready for class, I wash out my morning coffee cup and hear a knock on the door. I swing it open and I’m surprised to see Jake standing on the other side. I smile awkwardly at him.
“Ready?” he quips, and avoids eye contact.
I frown, grab my stuff, and follow him out of Wildwood. Normally, Jake and I are chatting about anything and everything. He usually throws his arm around me—something. But today he’s cold, detached, and completely avoiding eye contact. I can’t make sense of it. He’s the one who was touching me last night. Not the other way around. What’s with the sudden mood swing?
“You didn’t come get me for Chaz’s this morning,” I say, trying to break the awkward silence between us.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I overslept.”
Okay then.
We sit in the same spot, but Jake spends a lot of time talking to the guy on the other side of him, which feels an awful lot like being blown off.
When we leave, I decide I’ve had enough of his illusiveness. “Look, are you still planning on coming with us to The Tank tonight?” I turn to face him as we walk, hoping to get him to look at me.
He glances at me briefly, and looks ahead again before saying, “‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?” His dismissive attitude is pissing me off.
I glare at him, but he won’t look at me to even notice. “Ooookay,” I assent. “Do you want to come over and pre-game it with us? Meet Lez?”
“Um, I’ll let you know. I might just meet you there. I don’t know yet.”
Well, fine then. I guess we’ll see tonight. But I’m getting a funny sense of de ja vu.