Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Dawson
Jakob Titov: She wouldn’t give me the time of day, and I was obsessed with her. Truly, I was. Hell, still am utterly and pathetically in love with her.
Harper Titov: He makes me sound like I was coldhearted, but I wasn’t. Even back then, he was a hottie with a body, and I was very attracted to him. I totally entertained him and enjoyed his company, but I didn’t want a relationship. I was a rolling stone.
Jakob Titov: That I worked my ass off to make my favorite rock. You know the one you carry in your pocket? Show to everyone?
Laughter.
Jakob Titov: For me, it was love at first sight. She was helping her best friend take pictures of the Assassins for promo, and I’ve never posed so perfectly for anyone in my life. I was doing my best Blue Steel, and I got her number, but then she did what the kids these days say: ghosted me.
A prerecorded round of awws.
More laughter.
Jakob Titov: I wanted her to notice me so badly that I played like she was watching all the time, when really, she only came to home games.
Harper Titov: He pranced around like a peacock for me, and I loved it. It was hard because our best friends were together, and I think if that weren’t the case, he would have let me go.
Jakob Titov: Nope, never.
Harper Titov: Really?
Jakob Titov: Harper, you have always been the one.
Ambrosia Mercer: Ugh, I can’t.
Soft laughter.
Jakob Titov: I wouldn’t give up. I was sending flowers and love notes daily.
Ambrosia Mercer: Oh my. As Ms. Elizabeth Bennet has said, “And so ended his affection. There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of flowers in driving away love.”
More laughter
Jakob Titov: Did you just Pride and Prejudice me?
Laughter.
Ambrosia Mercer: I’m sorry, but I can’t stand flowers. It makes me sad when they die.
Harper Titov: Me too, and when I told him that, this guy went and taught himself how to dry my flowers so I could keep them.
Ambrosia Mercer: No way!
Jakob Titov: Sure did. Even taught my kids, then my daughter’s husband.
Ambrosia Mercer: I am in awe.
Jakob Titov: My son-in-law is the definition of if he wants to, he will. He wanted to marry our daughter, and he did without anyone knowing. Then he agreed to hide their pregnancy with our granddaughter because my daughter wanted to surprise us. He worships her, which is what all dads want.
Harper Titov: Can you blame him? Allison watched you woo me, so of course she wants the same.
Ambrosia Mercer: Same. My dad was the best husband. He learned Spanish for my mom. He said it was so he knew what she was saying, but I think he wanted to know when she cussed at him in a different language.
Laughter.
Harper Titov: Love makes you do crazy things—or it makes you run. I wish I had been where he was. I fought it for a long time, but then we got pregnant, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Jakob Titov: I locked her in so I could prove to her that I was more than a one-time thing for the rest of our lives.
I know I’ve been using the podcasts as guides to get Ambrosia, but I refuse to knock her up.
“Why am I here, folding papers?”
I wince as a piece of origami paper I spent entirely too much money to have shipped overnight slices into my skin for the tenth time before I suck on my finger to stop the bleeding.
As I told Ambrosia, though, I know when money is well spent.
The metallic taste is welcome as a good distraction from the assembly line of family I have around me.
She is worth the blood—and the annoyance of my cousins.
“Because I told you, you help me with this, and I’ll commit to the camp.”
That shuts Ashlyn right up. She continues to fold little yellow, orange, and purple papers into the shapes I need for the petals of the flowers we’re making.
I don’t know what Ambrosia’s favorite color is, but she tends to wear a lot of oranges, purples, pinks, and yellows.
She changed the whole color scheme of The Rowe Report to those colors, so I’m hoping she loves the flowers we’re making. I want them to sit on her desk.
I want her to think of me.
Sighing deeply, I look across the table at Charlotte, who has a Nerds Rope hanging out of her mouth as she makes the stems. Louis is making a vase out of my broken hockey sticks, and my boy Jennings is helping me construct the flowers.
We’ve been at this for four hours now.
Have I lost my mind?
Maybe.
But when I was listening to the episode with Jakob and Harper Titov, I knew I couldn’t give up.
Not when I think she’s finally letting me in.
It’ll be a week since the night I found her crying.
Being able to comfort her and feel her against me was like winning every championship imaginable.
Even later that night after I walked her to her car and wished her goodnight, I still had her citrusy coconut smell all over me.
It was like a blanket I couldn’t let go of as I fell asleep.
The next day, I didn’t relent. I sent my guys with videos of me telling her trivial things.
Stupid videos of me making salads and giving her small facts.
Instead of posting personal stuff on Instagram, I give it only to her.
I also sent my guys with voice messages asking her to come to my games.
Ever since she said maybe to attending one of my games, I’ve decided I’m playing if she’s coming.
When I had Hunter give her my game ball from when I threw the most touchdowns in my playing history at the beginning of the year, she wouldn’t take it.
Told Hunter it was too important for her to have.
I wanted to rage.
I wanted to chase her down.
Make her take the ball and listen to me when I say she is important, which is why I wanted her to have it.
I know I said I wouldn’t contact Dillon, but I’m having one hell of a time not doing so.
I want to chase him down and beat his ass for hurting her.
For making her cautious, when she doesn’t need to be.
I have seen her around, mostly because I wait outside of the communications building for my hit of her, but I don’t approach her.
I know she knows I’m there. As soon as she comes out of the building, her eyes find mine, and I swear she fights back a smile.
It fuels me and reminds me what I’m doing this for.
To be on the receiving end of that smile when she really lets it loose.
But her giving that ball back really was a kick in the dick.
I was convinced that was going to be my in, the thing to get her to finally talk to me outside of Venmo and really give me a chance, but as she’s been doing since the top, she did exactly the opposite.
Thankfully, she still talks to DoesMyBreathStink60.
“Are we making these for Aunt Baylor?” Charlotte asks, which makes Louis and Jennings chuckle since they know exactly who these are for.
“No,” Jennings answers before I can make up an excuse. The last thing I need is these people teasing me. “Our dear Dawson has found his Joey.”
I give him a dry look as Ashlyn whips her gaze to me, while Charlotte makes a face. “But Dawson doesn’t end up with Joey. Pacey does,” she informs us, like it wasn’t mandatory that we all watch that damn show.
Hours upon hours of my childhood I will never get back.
“Aunt Baylor should have named you Pacey. You’re more him than Dawson anyway,” Charlotte announces as Ashlyn nods.
“True, but she’ll die Team Dawson,” Louis says, and I roll my eyes.
“Why didn’t they name you Pacey?” Jennings asks my brother.
“Dad said no,” Louis and I say at the same time. “One Dawson’s Creek name was enough and gives me more reasons to envy my brother.” I hold up a finger. “Incredible hockey player, solid head on his shoulders, has a normal name, and no one calls him a fuckup.”
Louis shrugs. “We don’t call you a fuckup. We say you’re confused.”
Jennings bumps shoulders with him. “No one is confused about you, baby.”
“Which is why he is the favorite son,” I say with a sigh. “I’m the forgotten—”
“Jesus, shut up. You’re the favorite, and I had to be the best to get noticed!” Louis throws back at me, and we all laugh at that.
“Could be worse,” Charlotte tells me. “I have twin brothers who steal all the air out of the room, then a mysterious sister who everyone worries about. If I didn’t love Funko Pops, my dad would forget about me.
Thankfully, I know how to match paint samples like no other, which gets the attention of my mom. ”
“Never,” Ashlyn decides. “None of us is forgettable like my brother.”
“Hey,” I say, giving her a dark look. “Don’t talk about my boy Jamieson like that. No one could forget him.”
“Do you see him? He doesn’t have time for us,” Ashlyn tells us, and I can see the hurt in her eyes.
Ever since they were younger, the plan was for them to run Rink & Riffs together, but when Jamieson’s songwriting took off, so did he.
I think she realizes she’s allowing some emotion to show because she quickly sets me with a look, her dark brows almost touching.
“But, wait. You’re interested in someone for more than their mouth? ”
“Is it Ambrosia Mercer?” Charlotte asks, her face all sweet and sugary, but a bit of mischief in her eyes. “I knew you were into her. She’s a hottie.”
“So hot,” Jennings agrees. “Like a mix of Selena and Karol G.”
I make a face. I happen to think she’s hotter than both Latina queens. “Two totally different women.”
“Yes. But together, they make Ms. Ambrosia,” Jennings decides, drawing out the end of her name with a flair. He does a little salsa dance that has us all laughing. “I wonder if she’s ever had an ambrosia salad?”
“Wait. For real? These are for a girl you’re seeing?” Ashlyn asks, visibly surprised. She has that little dip between her eyes, and her nose is all scrunched up.
Louis snorts. “The only thing Dawson is seeing is her walking away. She wants nothing to do with him, but he won’t accept it.”
I give my brother a dark look. “Excuse you. We held hands the other day.”
As soon as it leaves my mouth, I know how childish I sound. Hell, I don’t need a mirror to see the hearts in my eyes.
“Wow, hand-holding. How scandalous,” Charlotte chortles.
“Are you sure it wasn’t cock-holding?” Ashlyn asks, and I roll my eyes. “What? When has he not thought with his dick?”
“Apparently now,” Jennings offers, and I cast them all dirty looks. “He is a one-woman guy now.”
“And she doesn’t want you?” Ashlyn asks with a snorty little chuckle. “She must be amazing. Smart.”
I side-eye her as I glue one piece of paper to another. The glue drips on the pad of my finger, so I unstick my fingers as I ask her, “What’s that mean?”
She gives me a come-on look. “I love you, Dawson, but you are a ho.”
“Yous a hoooooo,” Charlotte sings in her best Ludacris voice around her Reese’s.
“Ho!” Jennings and Louis sing.
Ashlyn snorts as I will myself not to do the same. They are such dorks. “She is hesitant because she’s been hurt. I just gotta get her to see I won’t do that.”
“But won’t you?” Ashlyn asks, and she doesn’t have malice in her voice. It’s just genuine concern. “I mean, you’ve never been in a relationship or even—”
“I share entirely too much with you people.”
They all beam like kids getting praise. “Um, we’re family,” Charlotte says with a shrug, now reaching for the Skittles. I have to keep loads of candy stocked around this girl. How she keeps her slim body on nothing but sugar is beyond me.
“I am aware that I have only ever been committed to my sports, but that’s because there is only one Ambrosia Mercer.” I give Ashlyn a dark look. “How’s it going with Phillipe?”
My cousin flushes redder than a tomato in the sun. “There is nothing going on. I have spoken to his agent, and that’s all.”
Louis side-eyes her. “I heard he’s called you and slid into your DMs.”
Ashlyn is stoic. “I will neither confirm nor deny that, especially when this regards a client.”
I snort as Louis grins. “Aww, does Ashlyn have a crush on the big ol’ goalie? I’ve seen his—”
“Don’t make me jealous right now,” Jennings interjects, and because I’m a shit-stirrer, I grin.
“He makes the phrase ‘hung like a horse’ seem like a joke.”
Jennings punches me in the arm, making me laugh harder as Charlotte gives a little wiggle. “Hey, girl. Get ittttt. I’d climb him like a redwood tree.”
As Ashlyn flushes even redder, Jennings starts to sing Taylor Swift’s “Wood,” and of course, my brother joins in.
Ashlyn ignores everyone. “This is inappropriate, and besides, the comment at hand…” She looks across at me with her eyes a bit glassy, a look that seems almost proud.
But that can’t be right, Ashlyn isn’t proud of anyone. “Our Dawson is growing up.”
“About time,” Jennings mutters.
Charlotte beams. “I never saw it coming.”
“Weird, really,” Louis says. “I have seen girls practically sell their souls to suck his dick and they weren’t enough to make him look twice, but this girl has told him to leave her alone, flicked his nose, and told him he isn’t her type, yet he doesn’t give up.”
I scoff as Jennings adds, “Yes, but he kissed her.”
The girls look at me with wide eyes, and both squeal, “You kissed her?”
“Like, on the mouth?”
I give my brother’s boyfriend a look, and he shrugs. “What? You did. I wrote down the date.”
“You don’t kiss girls,” Ashlyn says, as if I don’t know that.
“Y’all are too obsessed with my love life,” I mutter.
“You’re making us make flowers!”
“I have 900 paper cuts!”
“No good candy was supplied!”
“I truly thought you forgot how to kiss!”
I need new cousins.