“I actually live way across town,” I say even though I know for a fact that I live about two blocks away from Jake since I went to his house the other day. “I’ll just meet you at the party so you’re not driving out of the way.”
He frowns. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll just meet you there.” I grin up at him like it’s no big deal and like I’m not freaking out at all.
“Uh, okay,” he says, his lips pressing into a line. Is he… disappointed? I can’t tell.
He nods at me. “See you tomorrow.”
Ten
Jake
Hip hop plays loudly through the Bluetooth speaker in Oliver’s game room. Some guys from my team are battling it out over a game of air hockey while others stand around the dartboard or play pool. Oliver’s parents are well off and that makes his house the best one for these parties. My parents would never let me throw a party with more than maybe five people at my house.
My phone lights up with a text from Jules.
I’m here… so do I just walk in? I have no idea how soccer parties work, lol.
I grin at how cute she is, and then write back.
I’ll meet you at the door.
Jules smiles at me when I open Oliver’s front door and see her standing there, hands in her pockets. She seems nervous, and it makes me realize that I can’t remember the first house party I went to. Is this her first time? I’ve just kind of always been part of the popular crowd since junior high. People invite me to every party, even if I don’t want to go. Jules is kind of quiet at school. Maybe she doesn’t get invited to a lot of parties. Maybe she’s more of a homebody than a party girl. The idea of spending a weekend curled up with her on the couch sounds so much better than being at a party.
“Hey,” I say. I tell her hi every single day at school, but it feels different now that we’re at a house party and not in our assigned seats in Mr. Casey’s classroom.
“I’ll be honest,” she says, biting on her bottom lip. “I don’t think I know many people here. I’m not even sure why I came? I guess I’m trying to be cool.”
Oh my gosh, this girl is adorable. I grin. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
I let Jules into Oliver’s house and introduce her to some of the guys. Most of them don’t care much—if they see me with her, they know she’s off the market. It’s ironic because she’s technically not off the market, not yet anyway. Maybe by the end of the night, I’ll have the guts to ask her out on a real date, one where I drive and pick her up even if she does live across town.
I pull on my confident personality, the one that’s been perfected over years of being thrown unwillingly into the popularity spotlight, and it seems to put Jules at ease. She laughs at my jokes and chats with my friends, and beats me at a game of air hockey. I’m not sure if this is a real date, but I like whatever it is. We’re having fun. And it sure beats when I’m normally at these parties by myself and I either spend all night hanging out with my teammates, who I see all the time anyway, or being bombarded by girls who flirt with me constantly even though I don’t like them.
Hanging out with Jules is a kind of fun I didn’t know I could have. She’s sweet and seems to like being around me, but she’s also not throwing herself at me. I know my guy friends like to rag on me, saying I don’t appreciate how “lucky” I am for having girls fawn over me all the time, but I hate that. I just want to be normal. I don’t want to be the guy girls like because he’s popular. Jules makes me feel like a normal high school guy, not like some pseudo celebrity. It’s refreshing.
Jules tugs on my sleeve after we watch Oliver and Chase battle it out for air hockey champion. “Hey?” she says. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“It’s down that hallway all the way to the end, on the left,” I say, pointing toward the hallway. “There’s another one in the kitchen but it’s usually occupied. No one knows about the hallway one.”
“You’re the best,” she says. She holds out her plastic cup. “Do you mind holding this for me?”
“Not at all.” I take her cup and she slips off into the crowd of people. Not two seconds later, Trevor Blankenship appears beside me. I know him by name only, and we’ve never talked, I don’t think. Now he’s staring at me like we’re best friends or something.
“Hey, man,” he says with a nod. “You dating Jules?”
I have no idea why he seems to care so much, but before I can answer, Oliver walks up beside me and says, “Why, you jealous?”
Trevor just snorts. “I was just wondering. We all want to know when the hottest guy in school will finally be off the market.”
“Why?” Oliver says. “It’s not like the girls would want to date you anyhow.”
“Funny man with funny jokes,” Trevor says, rolling his eyes.
I laugh along with them, but I don’t say anything and luckily Trevor walks away a few seconds later. Truth is, I wish I could tell them that I’m dating Jules. Hopefully it’ll be something I can say soon. Until then, I’m not going to ruin it by implying anything.
Oliver challenges me to a game of air hockey, and I set Jules’ cup down on the edge of the air hockey table. After a few minutes go by, I’m wondering where she is and if she got lost on her way to the bathroom. There are two hallways that branch off from Oliver’s huge game room—maybe she went to the wrong one.
I’m thinking about her too much and I don’t pay enough attention to the game, which gives Oliver the advantage. He scores seven points against me while I only get two on him, and soon the game is over. While Oliver is gloating about his epic win, I glance around, looking for Jules.
When I find her, my heart sinks. All these giddy feelings of happiness I’ve had with her all night seem to crash and burn, lighting up a deep pain in my chest.
She didn’t get lost, after all. She just started talking to Trevor.
He’s got her captivated while they talk in the corner of the room, his hand on the wall next to her shoulder while he leans in closely, telling her what could be any number of romantic things.
I realize now, like a complete fool, that Trevor wasn’t asking about my dating life to see if I was off the market.
He was asking to see if she was.
Eleven
Jules
I know there wasn’t any alcohol in my drink, but I’m starting to wonder if I’m drunk.
I’ve never actually been drunk, but I’ve heard it’s a lot like when you’re super sick and haven’t slept in days and have taken a lot of cold medicine. I feel kind of like that right now, because Trevor is talking to me.
And he’s telling me everything I’ve wanted to hear for so long. All the things I thought I’d never hear—he’s saying them.
Surely, I’m drunk.
Maybe there’s some kind of toxic mold in the air that’s causing hallucinations and I’m not actually talking to Trevor right now, but some kind of houseplant that I only think is Trevor.
Yep. That would make way more sense than what it looks like is happening right now.
“I’m serious, babe,” Trevor says. (or, possibly the houseplant says) He reaches up and touches my cheek, which makes me flinch. He hasn’t touched me since before he dumped me on social media. “I miss you.”
“You broke up with me,” I manage to say even though my throat is dry and my heart is pounding and I’m still kind of questioning that whole hallucinating/drunk thing.
“I still miss you,” he says, leaning a bit closer. I can smell his cologne and it brings back so many memories, both painful and happy. “Breaking up with you was a mistake.”
I look into his eyes and feel an overwhelming urge to turn back time, back to when I was happy and I thought we were in love. I don’t even think it’s Trevor that does this to me—it’s the feelings. The memories of being happy. Feeling worthy. It’s not him at all, it’s just what I wish I could feel instead of right now because all I feel now is sadness and desperation. I spent all summer and these first cou
ple weeks of school wishing I didn’t feel this way. I’ve sworn off boys, and yet here I am at a party with Jake even though I’m not allowed to like him.
And now Trevor is here?
No. This can’t happen. I refuse to let my ex-boyfriend come back into my life and ruin things again. Agreeing to come to this party with Jake was equally stupid. I am not going to date anyone this year, and I’m really not going to get back with my ex. I am too smart for this nonsense.
I have to protect my heart.
I put my hand on Trevor’s shoulder and push him away from me. “I have to go,” I say, walking straight forward. I ignore my ex as he calls my name. I expect him to follow, and I expect to have to ignore him but he doesn’t follow after me.
I guess that’s what I should have expected instead. He only cares about me a slight bit. He’s not “all in” when it comes to dating me. If I were to have agreed to date him again tonight, then he’d only end up hurting me again.
And that’s exactly why I have to leave.
When I get to the front door, I slip outside unnoticed. Everyone here at the party is too busy doing their own thing to notice the quiet girl from school walking out alone. While I want nothing to do with Trevor, and I’ll never date someone super popular like Jake, I don’t want to make him think I got kidnapped or something, so I take out my phone and text Jake from the quiet darkness of my car.
I’m feeling sick so I’m heading home early. See you in class on Monday!
I’m not sure if that sounds believable, but at this point I don’t care. All that matters is making sure I don’t ever let a guy hurt my heart again.
Twelve
Jake
I’m pretending to watch my friends play a game of pool when I get Jules’ text. She couldn’t even have the courage to tell me the truth, that she’s decided to spend the rest of the night with Trevor instead of me. No, she made up some story about feeling sick. My heart aches for a few seconds, and the pain is unbearable. I try to tell myself to get mad, not sad. To tell myself I’ll just find another girl to crush on—Jules isn’t that great. The words fall flat in my mind because they aren’t true.
I can tell myself I’m mad and not sad, but I don’t believe it. I don’t want another girl to crush on. I wanted Jules. She’s become a good friend in math class and talking with her on Snapchat is the highlight of my day. My little brother asks about her all the time. I want her in my life.
The crushing, brutal truth is that I wanted to date her, and she wanted Trevor over me. I am a total idiot. Trevor isn’t the hottest guy in school—I am. I guess this goes to prove that she’s even better of a person than I thought because she chose him over me when most girls would choose me just so they’re dating the popular guy. Jules isn’t like that, though. She doesn’t care about high school popularity, and that’s one of the reasons I really liked her.
Now she’s Trevor’s girl.
I head to the kitchen to grab a soda, hoping the sugar and caffeine will somehow drown my broken heart. But the second I see the back of Trevor’s letterman jacket, my heart tightens. He’s here. But the girl he’s got his arm slung around isn’t Jules…
I walk past him trying to be casual, but he doesn’t seem to notice me. He’s too busy trying to get this girl’s number. I don’t see Jules anywhere. Maybe she did go home. Maybe she is sick.
Maybe I just spent the last twenty minutes thinking she lied to me for nothing. Maybe she didn’t lie at all—and that possibility actually sounds a lot more like Jules. Now I feel awful. I crack open my soda can and drink half of it as I walk out to my truck and get inside, drowning out the loud music and laughter from the party in the house. If Jules isn’t at the party anymore, I don’t want to be here, either. Before I go home, I decide to reach out one more time.
I pull up Snapchat and send her a message.
Are you okay? Need anything?
Snapchat tells you when someone reads your message, and within about thirty seconds, I can see that Jules read it. But she doesn’t reply right away. I sit here staring at my phone for five minutes, then ten, and still no reply. I’m about to send a second message—which all my friends tell me is the worst thing you can do because double messaging makes it look like you’re too eager—when Jules finally replies.
I’m fine. Just a headache.
Why do I feel like that’s not the entire truth?
I send her back a sad face emoji and tell her I hope she feels better soon. She reads the message and sends back a “thanks”. It doesn’t feel sincere. I know we aren’t best friends or anything but I feel like I know her better than that. Something is wrong with her, and I don’t think it’s a headache.
I just wish we were close enough for her to tell me the truth.
Thirteen
Jules
Tears stream down my face as I drive away from Oliver’s neighborhood. There’s a lump in my throat the size of Texas and no matter how many deep breaths I take, I can’t seem to make it go away. I am overwhelmed with the annoying realization that I can’t just say something and make it true. I couldn’t just tell myself to get over Trevor breaking my heart. I can’t just tell myself to not crush on anyone this year. Especially not when the guy in question is Jake Johnson, Hottest Guy in School.
And he’s so much more than that, so much more than anyone gives him credit for. He’s incredibly smart and he’s kind and he doesn’t lose his patience with me when it’s taking me longer than it should to figure out a math problem. He asks how my weekend went and he remembers the random things I tell him about myself in class. He could easily be the most stuck up guy in school with how popular he is, but he’s not. He seems like a good guy on the inside, and outside.
That’s why it’s so hard not to like him.
Every single thing inside of me, from my heart to my head and even deep down in my toes, wants to like Jake. I want to crush on him so hard and swoon over him and spend all night looking into his dreamy eyes while hanging out at that party I just left. But I can’t.
I can’t let myself like Jake the way I used to like Trevor. We can see how well that turned out for me. I gave my heart to Trevor and he smashed it open on social media, breaking up with me publicly for everyone to see. And then he had the nerve to talk to me at that party just now, as if I’d ever be stupid enough to take him back! Yeah freaking right. Not happening.
I might have been stupid enough to date him once, but I’m not stupid enough to do it again.
Leaving this party was my only option. I have to make a conscious effort to protect my heart this year or it’ll just get broken again.
I wipe away my tears and stare out at the road ahead of me. It’s still two hours before my curfew, and I’m trying not to think about what kind of a loser I am for coming home early. Most teenagers beg to stay out later. I breathe out a deep sigh and tell myself to stop thinking about Jake.
There’s a loud pop and then my car jolts. Crap. My tire is flat.
The steering wheel wobbles as I edge my car over to the side of the road and stop the engine. I’ve never had a flat tire before, but it’s pretty obvious that’s the problem before I get out and look because the sound was unmistakably the sound of a tire popping.
Sure enough, my front driver’s side tire is flattened like a pancake, and here I am stuck on the side of a back road that hardly anyone ever drives down. I call my dad and the phone rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer. It’s 9:30 at night and he’s probably already asleep. I call my mom’s phone too but she keeps it on silent most of the time, so it’s no surprise when she doesn’t answer. I call Dad again, and still no answer.
I heave a sigh and kick the flat tire in frustration. I could be dying here on the side of the road and my parents wouldn’t even know! Ugh!
I don’t know who else to call, so I call my best friend. Abby doesn’t have a car, but maybe she can borrow Abuela’s.
“Abuela is at bingo,” Abby says with a frustrated groan. “I’m sorry! She usually doe
sn’t get home until midnight or so. You know how wild those old lady bingo nights can get.”
“I’ll just have to change the tire myself,” I say as I kneel down and stare at the thing on my car.
“Do you know how?” Abby asks.
“No,” I admit. “But there’s a spare tire in my trunk and all the tools that come with it. Maybe there’s instructions or something. Why didn’t I ever figure out how to do this particular skill before I needed it?
“Look it up on YouTube,” Abby says. “YouTube can teach you anything.”
“Good call,” I say. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
“Okay, be safe,” she says. “Don’t get murdered.”
I wasn’t thinking about getting murdered until she said it, and now here I am in the dark, on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere. This is a prime place to get murdered. Anxiety tries to take over as I watch a tutorial video on my phone for changing a flat tire. I’m still trying to figure out how to loosen the bolt that holds the spare tire into my trunk when headlights appear from way down the road behind me. Someone is coming. My heart races.
What if it’s a murderer? Should I call Abby back? Should I hide in my backseat and hope they drive right on past me?
I grab my phone and turn off the screen, but it’s way too late to hide now. Whoever is driving toward me is approaching too fast. They’ve seen me, there’s no doubt about that. I stand tall, hold back tears, and try to act like this is no big deal. Maybe they’ll just drive right on by.
But the vehicle slows. Crap. It’s definitely slowing down to stop.
Crap, crap, crap.
I try not to panic as the truck comes to a complete stop several yards behind me. The headlights are so bright I can’t see anything else, but I hear the door open and close, and then the sounds of someone walking toward me. I see the shadow of a body breaking through the bright headlight beams.
The Square root of falling: A Brazos High Novella Page 5