Chapter Six #2
“We met at the park. I should’ve known when he didn’t invite me to his house.
We started to talk, and next thing I know, we just…
ended it.” She pulls back and wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
She looks so small and withdrawn that I want to pull her back to me.
“It’s not his fault,” she’s quick to say. It makes my chest tighten.
“It’s not yours, either.”
She’s quiet for a moment and nods.
This whole thing is strangely reminiscent of when we were sixteen and Jules was dating Luka Petrov.
She texted me on a random Thursday night asking if she could come over.
It didn’t seem out of the ordinary, and of course I told her yes.
She showed up a few minutes later with the same red-rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks.
But not because they had broken up.
Sex was always a big deal to Jules. While others were curious to try it or desperate to get it over with, Jules was romanticizing it. Said she wanted to wait until it was the right time, with the right person. With someone who she loved.
But Luka hadn’t loved her back.
I felt helpless knowing she wasn’t given the magical first time she deserved and knowing there was nothing I could do to change it.
Or what to do or say to make the situation better.
Back then, I was angry. How dare he take something so monumental and dismiss it, dismiss her, like it wasn’t a big deal?
Two years later, I’m still not sure of the right thing to say. But I do know a thing or two about making Jules feel better. “How about I order a shitload of junk food, and we can stuff ourselves and watch a movie? I’ll rub your head, and you can cry all you want.”
I hand her a pair of sweatpants, and she disappears into the bathroom.
I can hear her turn on the sink, and I quickly bow out of the game and thank everyone for a good time.
By the time Jules comes back out, I’ve got the DoorDash app open with the greasiest burgers from her favorite diner ready to order.
Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and she carefully sits on the edge of my bed, shoving her hands inside the front pocket of her navy Penn hoodie.
Even as heartbroken as she is, she still looks beautiful. It makes me wonder what the hell Tyler was thinking letting her go without a fight.
“I’m sorry I’m being such a downer at the start of break. I’m sure there’s a party somewhere if you’d rather go to that.”
“Trust me, I’m totally fine staying in.” I grab my laptop and sit beside her. “What do you want to watch? Ferris Bueller? Fast Times? Adventures in Babysitting? Bill and Ted?”
We end up picking 9 to 5 because who doesn’t love a little Dolly? I grab a fleece blanket and cover us both. We lean against the headboard, and she tucks into me with her head again on my shoulder.
I find her hand under the blanket, and I thread our fingers together, wanting so badly to assure her that it’ll be okay. Assure her that whatever it is she’s feeling will fade over time. I squeeze her hand instead.
The movie quietly plays, but I’m not watching. Not really. And I’m pretty sure Jules isn’t either. So I’m not surprised when she asks, “Do you have a type?”
I don’t respond right away, even though the answer seems to hover at the edge of my mind, just out of reach. I think about all the girls I’ve had crushes on and the few I’ve dated or hooked up with, trying to line up one common denominator. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I think I do.” She sits up and grabs one of my pillows, pressing it to her chest and clutching it like a lifeline. “I think I’m destined to fall for the ones who break my heart.”
I frown. “I don’t think that’s true.” I rake my fingers through her hair and gently massage her scalp. “One day, you’ll find someone who would rather die before they broke your heart.”
Jules chuckles, but it sounds humorless and defeated. “I would never ask someone to do that.”
“You wouldn’t have to,” I assure her.
Jules is special. She’s smart, funny, kind, and beautiful. She may not realize it now, but she’s going to have her pick of any guy she wants because they’ll all be falling over themselves at the chance to be with her. They’d be crazy not to.
“If you could fly anywhere, where would you go?” she asks after another stretch of silence.
I debate telling her that I’d go back to 1919 in order to see the Reds win their first World Series, but I decide that now probably isn’t the best time.
Then I think about confessing that I’ve been thinking about splitting my university run between here and England, but I realize it really isn’t that time for that, either. “I don’t know. Maybe Tianzi Mountain?”
She looks at me with a sad but hopeful expression. “Can I go with you?”
I kiss her temple and rest my cheek on the top of her head. “Always.”
She stares at the laptop, the sound barely loud enough for us to hear, and her breathing starts to even out. “He needed to focus on baseball.” Her voice is quiet and choked, like she’s trying to get the words past a lump in her throat without crying. “That’s what he told me.”
“Fuck baseball.” I sit up and look at her just as her eyes start to glisten all over again. For the first time in my life, I think I may not only despise Tyler but the sport itself. Which definitely makes me hate Tyler.
She pulls her sweatshirt over her hands and wipes at her eyes. “He said he was worried he wouldn’t have time for anything other than school and training, and it wouldn’t be fair to me.”
Okay, well, as much as that sucks, at least he was honest about it. But picking a sport over Jules? Fucking stupid. “Do you think he’ll go pro?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I really do.”
I can feel my upper lip curl. “He better not get drafted by the Reds. I really don’t want to root against them.”
It wasn’t my intention to be funny, but Jules laughs. “The Pirates?”
My sneer turns into a smirk. “Yeah. The Pirates. Then I can openly hate him.”
Jules laughs again, and things seem a little bit lighter. “I don’t want you to hate him,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“Anyone order food?” Mason asks, poking his head in and holding out two overstuffed bags of greasy burgers and cheese fries.
Jules perks up at the sight of him. “My hero.” She gives my hand another squeeze and pats the bed on her other side.
Mason carefully places the bags on my nightstand and meets Jules for a hug. She easily melts into him. He holds on to her until she’s the first to let go, and he wordlessly crawls in the vacant spot beside her.
Once we lay out the food, he snags a few fries but otherwise doesn’t eat anything. Instead, he pulls a premade smoothie type drink from God knows where and produces two of my mom’s White Claws for me and Jules. I start to ask if Mom knows he swiped them, but his wink tells me she doesn’t.
We finish eating as the movie ends, and Jules lets out a defeated sigh. “Boys are so lame.”
Mason slips his arm around her shoulders. “They really are,” he says seriously. Jules smiles and leans into him. “Plus, they smell bad and do weird things like use a shampoo and conditioner blend as body wash.”
Jules snorts out a laugh, which only makes us all laugh, and soon enough, she’s finally wearing a genuine smile. And just like that, my brother has seemed to patch up a small part of Jules’s heart. It makes me even more grateful that his is still beating.