Текст книги "I Love Him, I Love Him Not "
Автор книги: Ella Martin
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was easy for Jake and me to fall back into our old routine. Well, mostly, anyway. We didn’t hang out at lunch the following day because he’d said he needed to work on stuff he said wasn’t ready for me to hear, and our study session after school was interrupted by a constant barrage of text messages blowing up his phone.
“Why don’t you just set it to Do Not Disturb?” I suggested after his phone buzzed for what seemed like the fifteenth time. “We’re not going to get much biology done.”
“Can’t.” He glanced at his phone, tapped the screen, and set it aside. “Clover’s in freakout mode over some stuff.” It buzzed again, and he let out an irritated huff.
“What’s she stressing about?”
“Stupid stuff.” Another buzz, and he groaned. “I don’t have time for this!” He pushed away his phone without looking at it.
I searched for a positive spin. “At least she’s got you to help her through whatever it is, right?” I said, trying to sound upbeat. I was still getting used to the idea of Jake having a girlfriend and wanted to be supportive, but he threw me off when he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yeah, I guess.”
That wasn’t at all the reaction I expected.
I frowned. “Is everything okay with you guys?” I really didn’t want to hear the answer, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
Jake seemed confused, though. “Huh?”
I was about to clarify my question when his phone buzzed again, this time a long, incessant buzz that meant someone was trying to call him. And from the look on his face, Jake wasn’t all too thrilled about it.
“What?” he barked into the phone. He got up from the table and began pacing in the adjoining living room.
I bent my head over my homework so it wouldn’t look like I was listening to his side of the call. He sounded annoyed. I watched while he marched around the room.
“Why are you telling me this? I can’t—” He stopped short and frowned as he listened. “Then talk to Gavin about it.” A pause. “But if he’s—” Another pause. “I don’t know. He was happy with the arrangement last time I talked to him.” He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, stopping midway to grab a fistful of it. “A couple of days ago.” He glanced at me, and I offered an encouraging smile. He pointed at his phone and made a face. “Look, talk to Gavin. Straighten whatever out with him. I don’t know what you expect me to—” He paused again. “Then have your dad deal with it. I have to go.”
“Clover?” I said when he returned to the table.
He held up his phone. “This is what I’m talking about. She’s freaking out and expecting me to fix stuff way out of my control.” He shook his head. “I swear, when she’s like this, she makes Ally look totally Zen.”
I smiled. It was hard to believe anyone could make Ally seem calm by comparison. And Clover had this unflappable aura that made it look like she had everything covered. A part of me was glad to know it was all a facade, after all.
“She’s cool and all,” he said as he flipped through his notebook,” but I’m going to be so glad when I don’t have to deal with her all the time.”
“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. It seemed like an odd thing to say about his girlfriend.
“It’s like there’s all this constant pressure, you know?” He shrugged. “I’m just saying it’ll be nice to be able to do whatever I want again.”
“That’s kind of harsh.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But it’s true.”
I turned my attention back to my homework. Something about the way he was talking about Clover bothered me. It was as if he’d already set an end date for their relationship and had begun the countdown. Or maybe Clover had served her purpose, whatever it was, and Jake was ready to move on.
Was that how guys thought? Did they think girlfriends were like bags of chips with a “use by” date? I thought of Hunter and Ally, how Hunter probably would’ve strung Ally along forever. Dante wanted to be with Bianca as long as he could control her. And my own parents….
I wasn’t Clover’s biggest fan, and I still wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Jake going out with her, but at that moment I felt kind of sorry for her.
“Maybe that’s why you’re having trouble with that song,” I said quietly.
“Hmm?”
“That song,” I repeated. “I mean, it sounded like a love song, and if you don’t feel that way anymore….”
He scratched the back of his head and gave me a curious look. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind.” My ears grew hot and I tugged at my hair to hide them.
I started to wonder if I needed to thank Clover for going out with him first. She may have saved me. I had a chance to see a side of Jake I wouldn’t have known otherwise. After all, I could’ve easily been the one he’d toss aside like a set of old guitar strings when he got bored or frustrated or whatever.
The thought of it made my stomach churn.
Though we didn’t talk about Clover after that, it was hard to fully concentrate on homework. I gave up on biology, unsuccessfully attempted history, and bailed on English altogether after a while. I caught myself rereading paragraphs without understanding them. Images of Clover fighting back tears kept invading my thoughts. I stopped trying to work just before five o’clock and closed my books.
“I can’t concentrate,” I admitted.
He looked up, concern lining his brow. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied as I packed up my stuff. “I’ve got this killer headache, and it’s kind of, I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re dehydrated?”
I forced a smile. “Maybe.”
“Let me get my shoes on, and I’ll walk you out,” he said, getting to his feet, but I zipped up my backpack and shook my head.
“No, it’s cool. I’ll text you when I get home.”
He paused. “Okay.”
I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders, and Jake followed me to the door anyway. He opened his arms for a hug, and I hesitated. A quick escape was the best course of action, but I couldn’t figure out how to sidestep him altogether without weirdifying everything again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I forced a smile. “Nothing,” I said, before I moved closer to him and let him wrap his arms around me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said as he stroked my hair.
“Yeah.” I looked up at him, certain he could feel my heart pounding against him. “Thanks for, um, letting me hang out.”
His mouth curved up into a soft, sensual smile that made my cheeks flush. “Thanks for coming over.”
I was paralyzed, frozen as I stared at him. Part of me wondered if he’d kiss me. Almost all of me wanted him to kiss me. But when he lowered his head closer to mine, I cleared my throat and wriggled free.
“Tell your mom I said ‘hi,’” I said over my shoulder as I unlocked the door and let myself out. I congratulated myself on my hasty retreat, but I doubted it could’ve been more awkward. Tell your mom I said ‘hi,’ I repeated silently. Not my most subtle moment. I hurried to my car and lifted a shaky hand after I climbed inside. I waved again as I pulled away from his house.
During the short drive home, all I could think of were his arms holding me close and how much I really wanted him to kiss me again. And he would have, and I knew it, and I hated myself for wishing I didn’t break away. But whether or not they were having problems, whether or not he’d set an expiration date for their relationship, he was still Clover’s boyfriend. I couldn’t ever let him know I was falling in love with him.
The realization scared me. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t take a deep breath. My stomach tightened into a tiny knot, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I pulled my car to the side of the road because I couldn’t keep from shaking.
Love was for fools and hopeless romantics. Love was a myth designed to lull people into some false sense of happiness so they’d spend money on stupid frivolity. Love was an illusion, something delusional people only believed because they wanted to.
And I was having a panic attack because I’d realized I was well beyond “falling.”
I was already there.
Chapter Thirty-Four
A whiff of something with garlic, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, lots of oregano greeted me when I got home that night. I set down my backpack at the bottom of the staircase and peered into the kitchen to find my mother pulling something out of the oven.
“What is that?” I pointed at the dark brown lump resting on a foil-lined baking sheet from which greasy stalagmites rose. It oozed a clear liquid when she stabbed it with a meat thermometer. “That’s not dinner, is it?”
“Yes,” my mom said with a confident smile. “Jake’s mom came over earlier today to walk me through some recipes.” She checked the thermometer and beamed. “Perfect!”
I stared at the misshapen lump. “What is it?”
“Meatloaf,” she replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I thought meatloaf was supposed to be in a loaf pan. You know, hence the name?”
Mom shot me a side-eye glare as she lifted the misshapen glob onto a cutting board. “If you must know, Isabelle suggested using a loaf pan to shape the meatloaf but said it cooks better when it’s cooked outside the pan.”
“And the wire rack?”
“So drippings go directly into the pan instead of collecting around the meat.” She sliced off a little piece and speared it with a fork. “Here. Try it.”
I took the fork and sniffed the chunk on the end. It smelled okay, but it was also something my mother had cooked. I was skeptical.
“Oh, quit making faces and just try it,” she said. “I don’t think one tiny bite will kill you.”
I grimaced as I put it in my mouth, bracing myself for the worst, but it wasn’t what I’d expected.
“Well?” Mom was watching me with hopeful eyes.
“That tastes like the meatballs Mrs. DeSantos makes,” I said, “except better.” I was pleasantly surprised. “What did you do to it?”
She beamed. “I added a little more salt, one more garlic clove, and some sun-dried tomatoes.” She took my fork and cut off another piece for me. “It’s not bad, is it?”
I slid onto the barstool and propped my elbows on the counter. “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?” I said, my eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Mom shook her head, disappointed. “So unoriginal, Talia. I’m sure you can come up with something better than that.”
I tilted my head but didn’t say anything. Instead, I watched her move around the kitchen, opening cabinets as if in search of something. She pulled out a pot and began filling it with water.
“You’re home early,” she said with a nod to the clock on the microwave. “It’s barely five. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. “Sure.”
“You want to try that again? Maybe this time like you mean it?”
A smile stubbornly lifted my cheek. “What are you making now?” I said as she put the pot on the stove.
“Egg noodles,” she said. “They’re from a bag, though.” She paused. “Do you remember how your dad let you help him roll out dough for pasta every Sunday?”
I nodded. “He said the boxed stuff wasn’t the real thing.”
“He was such a food snob.”
I smiled. “Oh, hey, remember that time he let me stuff ravioli, and the filling was uneven and didn’t cook right at all?”
We laughed at the memory of it. There were some good times in the house with my dad. It felt good to focus on the better days. That was the father I knew, the man my mom fell in love with. When I remembered stuff like that, it was easy to understand why my mom was so devastated by his death.
Maybe those were the only memories she kept of him.
“You know, I came across his recipe for egg noodles,” Mom said, “but Isabelle says making pasta and baking are all about precision and, let’s face it. Precision in the kitchen isn’t quite my thing.”
I laughed again, and she smiled.
“I’m glad you’re home early, though. Rob’s five o’clock canceled, so he should be home soon. We can eat dinner as a family.”
“Yay.”
Mom gave me a knowing look and rounded the counter to sit beside me. “You never answered my question,” she said. “What’s going on?”
I paused, not sure how much I wanted to share. Too much and I’d might as well open myself up for a full interrogation, but too little and she’d think I was hiding something. I held my chin in my hands and said, “Ally’s ex-boyfriend was making out with another girl in his car yesterday.”
She furrowed her brow. “But didn’t she say she found him with…?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” My mother had been rendered speechless. That was a first.
“Anyway, he and this new girl are constantly joined at the lip now, so Ally’s….” I didn’t have to complete my thought. She understood.
“How’s she doing?”
“I don’t really know.” I studied the ends of my hair. “Okay, I guess? I mean, she says she’s fine, but she’s still kind of mopey and all.”
“That’s to be expected.” She made a clucking sound. “Poor thing.” After a long pause she said, “Is everything okay with Jake?”
I sat up straight. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’re usually not this somber when you come home from his house.” She got up and began wiping down the kitchen counters.
“Oh.” I slouched back in my seat and watched her. “Well, it was hard to concentrate on homework. His girlfriend kept calling him, and then some of the stuff he was saying about her….” I let my words trail off again. “I don’t know. It was weird.”
“I didn’t realize Jake was seeing anyone.” She folded up the dish towel and set it aside.
“Yeah, he’s going out with Clover. You know, that girl you met at the club.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Malcolm Davies’s daughter?”
I nodded. “He doesn’t talk about it, though. I only found out a couple of weeks ago.” Or I never would’ve kissed him, I added silently.
“At least he trusts you enough to talk about her,” she said with an encouraging smile. “What was he saying? Good stuff? Bad stuff?”
“Just stuff.”
Mom waited a beat before she said, “Well, Jake’s a boy, after all.” She glanced at the pot on the stove. “They don’t talk about their feelings all that much.”
“And by ‘all that much’ you really mean ‘at all,’ right?”
She laughed. “Something like that.”
The door leading to the garage opened and closed, and Dr. Griffin’s voice rang through the house. “Paula, I’m home!” He strolled into the kitchen and greeted my mother with a kiss on her temple. “Hi, Talia.”
I pressed my lips together for a tight smile and waved in greeting. Quality time with Mom was over.
Whether he knew I was kind of annoyed at his sudden arrival, I couldn’t tell, but he squeezed my mom’s shoulders and said, “Mind if I disappear for a few? I’ve got some paperwork to finish.” After she pecked him on the cheek and shooed him away, we were alone again.
“Do you think he’s going to leave?” I said, looking in the direction my stepfather disappeared.
“Rob?” Mom said as she added dried noodles to the pot. “I hope not. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Her expression was skeptical, and I quickly added, “It’s not wishful thinking or anything. It’s just a question. Like, do you think people break up when one person’s basically done with the other?”
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. I braced myself for direct examination. Or voir dire. Or whatever it was lawyers did when they questioned people on the witness stand.
She pulled a colander from a cabinet. “I assume this is about Hunter and Ally?” When I didn’t respond, she said, “You make it sound like he was using Ally for whatever reason and never cared about her at all.” I remained silent. “Hunter may have genuinely liked her and Kyle both.”
“But he just couldn’t pick one.”
The colander clattered as it slipped from her hands to the floor. “I suppose,” she said, picking it up and placing it in the sink. “Or maybe he went out with Ally because that’s what was expected of him. Maybe going out with Ally was just a front to hide how he really felt about Kyle.”
“And that makes it okay to basically use her?”
“Absolutely not.” She looked hard at me, like she was studying me. “Where is this coming from?”
“I was just thinking. Forget it,” I said, hoping she would drop it. But that was unlikely.
“Is this what Ally thinks?”
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. It’s fine, okay?” I sighed and slid off the stool. “I’m going upstairs. I didn’t get much done at Jake’s.”
Mom opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, and I braced myself, half-expecting her to press further and pepper me with questions I couldn’t answer – or didn’t want to answer, if I was being honest. But instead, she gave me kind of a sad smile. “Don’t get too wrapped up in anything,” she said. “The pasta’s just about done.” I nodded, and she added, “Talia, honey, you know you can—”
“Tell you anything,” I finished for her. “I know.” I hugged her. “Thanks, Mom.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
I spent the next couple of days simultaneously looking forward to seeing Jake and dreading the thought of being near him. It was like dealing with the tide. I’d be away from him long enough to rationalize all the reasons I shouldn’t be in love with him, but then he’d envelope me in one of his massive hugs, and I wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for the rest of the period.
The really sick part about it was I kind of liked it. I liked how my heart couldn’t decide if it should hide in my stomach or fly out of my chest. I liked how he’d put his arm around me and we’d try to synchronize our steps as we walked through the halls. I liked how he’d look at me like I was the only person in the world, like whatever I was telling him was all that mattered.
But I kind of hated myself for it, too.
Ally’s powers of observation were as keen as ever. She cornered me in the lunch line on Thursday.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you guys, or do I have to go to Jake?”
I fumbled with a container of macaroni and cheese, and it fell through an opening on the tray rack and onto the floor. “Sorry,” I said to the worker behind the counter. He shook his head, handed me another container, and waved us on.
“Nice one,” Ally said with a laugh. “And now I know something’s up. You never get flustered like that.”
I was glad my hair was down so she couldn’t see my ears burning. “Drop it, Katz.”
“Like you just did?” She giggled, and I begrudgingly smiled. As much as I didn’t want her interrogating me about stuff I didn’t understand myself, it was good to see her back to her non-mopey self, even for a little while.
“How do you know anything’s going on?” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Things have just normalized. No big.”
“Funny how different your ‘normal’ looks from what I remember it used to be.”
“Maybe I’m just overcompensating for being such a witch.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, with a quick bob of her head, but she’d agreed so easily, I knew she didn’t believe me. I hoped I’d at least earned a reprieve for the rest of the period, though. Maybe even the day, if I was lucky.
Our table was more crowded than usual. Keith was hovering over Jake and Finn, and Brady was in my regular seat next to Bianca. I set down my tray and handed Brady my container of fries.
“Hey, thanks,” he said, getting to his feet. He grinned and reached for my head as though he was about to mess up my hair, but I ducked out of reach.
“You don’t have to feed him, you know,” Bianca said with an annoyed glare at her brother’s back as he left. “Dad gives him money for lunch, too.”
“It’s a habit,” I said. “I think of it as tithing.”
She shook her head. “I’m so glad he didn’t hear that. The last thing we need is for my big-headed brother to think there’s a Church of Brady.”
“No,” Tim said beside her. “Worse would be if he decides to create one.”
An image of Brady dressed like a televangelist and surrounded by adoring freshmen came to mind, and I laughed. Bianca shuddered when I shared it with her.
“That’s so not even funny,” she said.
Keith threw a straw wrapper at me to get my attention. “Open mic’s tomorrow night, Talia,” he said. “You going?”
I glanced at Jake. He kept his eyes down, as though he was expecting his food to do tricks.
“Of course she is,” Ally answered. “She wouldn’t miss Jake’s new song for anything. Talia’s his biggest fan.” She smiled sweetly, and I fought the urge to pelt her with macaroni.
“So you’re definitely going?” Bianca said to Jake.
“Going?” he repeated. “Yeah. But I don’t think I’ll perform, no.”
“You have to!” Ally wailed.
“No, he doesn’t,” I said. Jake glanced up at me, and I added, “Not everyone wants to be in the spotlight, Ally. Leave him alone.”
“But Clover says his new song is amazing,” she said with a pout.
“Clover’s a little biased,” Jake said, his eyes downcast.
I remembered the times I’d caught him working on it and the snippets of lyrics I’d heard. Jake said it was the most personal song he’d ever written.
Clover’s a little biased, I repeated silently as my heart splintered in my chest. Of course she was. She was his muse. I’d be biased, too, if anyone had written a song for me.
****
Jake was antsier than usual that afternoon. He wasn’t focused, and he wouldn’t sit still, either. It was impossible to concentrate on schoolwork when he was bouncing around like a hyperactive terrier.
I threw down my pencil. “Why are you so spastic?” We’d been at his house for twenty minutes, and I hadn’t solved more than three geometry problems.
He froze. “Nerves?”
“Why?”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Were you listening when I was talking to Clover the other day?”
I stared at my notebook. “Um, kind of.” I looked up, expecting him to be disappointed, but his expression was neutral. “I’m sorry. You just seemed so agitated.”
“No, it’s cool.” He grabbed a couple of pens and started tapping out a rhythm on the table.
I waited for him to continue. When Jake started drumming on random surfaces, it meant he was bored, thinking, or nervous, so it was best for him to collect his thoughts at his own pace.
He put the pens down. “Do you know who Gavin Leeds is?”
The name sounded familiar. “Is he that guy from that reality show?” I vaguely remembered a runner-up on some music show getting a lot of attention when he didn’t win, and his name could have been Gavin. There were so many of those shows, though, so I couldn’t be sure.
Jake nodded. “That’s him. So far, he’s the only one Malcolm’s picked for this new project of his.”
Malcolm, I thought, cringing inside. He’s on a first-name basis with her dad.
“Anyway, Gavin’s doing some celebrity judge thing or whatever tomorrow.”
“Is that why Clover wants you to sing and stuff?”
He paused. “Kind of.”
“Kind of,” I repeated. I hoped he was planning to elaborate, so I waited.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” he blurted after a minute of silence.
“What?” Whatever I was expecting to hear, that definitely wasn’t it.
“Gavin’s playing this song tomorrow night,” he said, “but I want you to hear it the way I wrote it.”
“Why? Did he totally ruin it?”
Jake lowered his gaze before he looked back up at me. “I just want you to hear it.”
The request itself wasn’t cryptic; I was usually one of the first people to hear just about everything he’d ever written. But he’d never been so earnest in wanting me to hear a new song. It almost worried me.
I shut down my laptop and shoved everything into my backpack, and then I followed him to the apartment above the garage. I stayed by the door, unsure of what he was doing. No, I knew what he was doing; I just didn’t know why. Why was it suddenly so important for me to hear his newest song when he’d kept it private for the past few weeks?
Jake picked up his acoustic guitar, sat on a little stool, and plucked each string and fiddled with the tuners. He glanced at me. “You can sit down,” he said, nodding to the small couch in the corner.
The couch where I kissed him.
My stomach flipped as I remembered the feel of his mouth on mine.
I left my backpack by the door and sat on the edge of the love seat, ready to jump up and bolt if I got too uncomfortable. I mean, Jake was about to serenade me with a song he wrote for another girl. That was the very definition of “awkward.”
“The arrangement I did for Gavin is faster,” he explained as he checked each string’s sound. “So when you add the bass and drums, it almost sounds, I don’t know. Like some sell-out bubblegum pop.” He flashed a little grin and said, “I just want you to hear it the way I hear it in my head.”
That explained everything. Jake had pride in his work and wouldn’t want me to think he’d abandoned his artistic ideals. I nodded with what I hoped was an encouraging smile, but I didn’t want to be there. I felt duty-bound as his friend, though, to listen, if for no other reason than to assure him the following night that he had still written a great song, regardless of what that Gavin Leeds person may have done to it.
Jake played a series of chords in succession before he took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Here goes.”
He closed his eyes as he played, his fingers gliding along the fretboard while he manipulated the strings. And then he began to sing:
You were lost when you found me
but then, so was I
We rescued each other when it seemed hope had died
In your touch I found strength
In your eyes I saw light
like a beacon calling out to a ship in the night
So whatever may come
you can let go
I’ll catch you when you fall
I’ll stay with you tonight and always
My heart and soul can’t lie
I’ll kiss your tears and hold you tight
and never say goodbye
My dreams have been clouded
by your voice and your laughter
All I see is your smile and I know that I have to
show you how I feel about you
I need you to know
when I say forever it means I won’t let you go
But whatever may come
you can let go
I’ll catch you when you fall
I’ll stay with you tonight and always
My heart and soul can’t lie
I’ll kiss your tears and hold you tight
and never say goodbye
I bit my lip to hold back tears while he sang, and when Jake opened his eyes to look at me, I wanted more than anything to fling myself into his arms and cover him with kisses. I restrained that urge, though, and merely smiled.
“That was amazing,” I managed to say.
“Thanks.” He got up to return his guitar to its stand and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It wasn’t easy to get the words exactly right.” He spoke slowly, as though carefully measuring what he was saying.
I looked up at him from my place on the couch. “I think it’s perfect,” I said.
I wasn’t sure how long we stared at each other in silence. It could have been a few seconds, but with the way my heart was racing, it may as well have been an hour before I found enough strength in my legs to stand. “I should get going,” I said in a voice that hardly sounded like my own.
“Talia, wait.” He put out a hand to stop me, and I paused long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I collected my backpack and hurried out the door and down the steps, not stopping until I got in my car. I pulled out of the driveway and onto the street without a backward glance, and all the while, I fought to keep the tears at bay.
Jake had my heart, there was no question about it.
That was the only explanation for the empty hole in my chest.
