Chapter 1 #2
What is happening? Did I just ogle my best friend’s little brother when I have a boyfriend I love to the ends of the earth? Braden is everything to me. And this is Jake!
My face is flushed and I’m berating myself for—well, noticing—that a certain person present is different. Taller. Older. Whatever.
There’s zero interest within me to dive into the pool and play any high-contact game with Jake.
That thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind for even a second a year or two ago, and I’m annoyed with myself for even feeling any type of way about him whatsoever.
Jake should be a non-issue, like the patio furniture. Or the sunglasses on my face.
Visions of my planner float behind my eyelids. See what happens when you choose spontaneity?
“I gotta finish these cookies,” I say lamely, gesturing towards the remaining two in my hand.
“Avery James! Get in here now,” Jenna commands. She punctuates her command by splashing my legs with cool pool water.
I shriek and drop the M&M treats. They hit the ground hard enough to crack into dozens of pieces. What a waste!
“Look what you made me do, Jenna. Those perfectly good cookies were murdered.”
“Don’t worry, Rapunzel. I can make you more,” Jake calls to me.
Is his voice an octave deeper or something?
And Jake bakes? My brain is having trouble processing what has happened to him in the past few months, and I can barely follow his words.
It’s too hard to remember Jake as anything other than annoying background noise for the past couple of years every time I was at the Taylors’ house.
Like when he’d whack us with pillows too hard at a sleepover or tried to get us to watch Star Wars for the millionth time.
At least until his next sentence.
“Two against one seems like a fair fight, seeing as you two are just girls and all.”
Oh, he did not! All thoughts of Jake being grown-up and tall fly away in the summer breeze. The little boy with the mischievous smirk is all I can see as I dive headfirst into the deep end.
Surging through the water, I stay submerged until the wall beneath the ledge appears.
My feet plant against the smooth tile, knees bent, crouched on an invisible step.
One hand shoots up and clamps around Jake's ankle.
A hard yank—he stumbles. The other hand breaks the surface to catch his wrist as he tries to steady himself, and then both feet push off the wall with everything they've got.
Either I've seriously been underestimating my own strength or Jake wasn't expecting a 5'3" ambush, because he barely resists before tumbling into the water with me.
One of his arms circles my waist as we go down, dragging me against his warm body. The hand I'm still holding slips free and immediately digs into my sides, finding the sensitive spot right above my hip bone. He's tickling me. Underwater.
Giggles bubble out as I twist and writhe in his grip.
The rumble of his laugh vibrates against me through the water.
An elbow to his ribs loosens his hold just enough—my feet find the bottom of the pool and shove off hard, rocketing me toward the surface.
One gasping breath of air, and Jake's hand snaps around my ankle.
In the seconds it takes to battle him, Jenna has circled around and claimed the ledge. Her voice carries across the water, telling me to kick Jake in the head already so we can claim king of the ledge together. Easy for her to say while Jake has a death grip on my leg.
The ledge is close enough to grab with both hands. My free leg kicks out at Jake, landing a blow to his gut. For a split second guilt flickers—until I remember he's huge and his abs feel like rock. It actually hurts my foot more than it hurts him.
Jake's head finally breaches the water, and Jenna immediately whacks him in the face with a pool noodle.
The distraction is all I need—another kick, this time a little too close to his groin.
He yelps and drops my ankle. Two scrambling seconds later, Jenna and I stand side by side on the ledge.
Victorious! We hug and squeal, nearly slipping off the ledge in the process.
Jake shakes his head at us and splashes us for good measure.
“Later, ladies. I have a hockey thing to get to,” Jake says as he lifts himself out of the pool and grabs a towel. “Don’t eat all my cookies, Jenna.”
“I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you leave them on the counter!” she yells.
Jake flashes me a grin and shakes his head as he walks back into the house.
The sun shadows his features, highlighting every line and deepening the appearance of his dimples.
His smile is… devastating. He’s always been adorable, but I also remember him with crooked teeth, a stutter, and an unhealthy obsession with Star Wars.
My mind conjures pictures of his years of braces and night gear and speech therapy.
Who could have guessed Jake Taylor would grow up to be such a heartbreaker?
No doubt all the girls would be tripping over themselves to have a chance with him now, if they haven’t already.
“Girl, stop looking at my little brother like that,” Jenna teases me. “You better not be crushing on him or I’ll puke.”
“No! But like… when did he get so big? He’s massive. I remember when he was a head shorter than you not that long ago.”
“I know. It’s so annoying. Whatever. Let’s go watch a movie and eat the rest of his stupidly good cookies.”
We towel off and migrate to the living room, claiming opposite ends of the oversized couch with a bowl of cookies between us.
Jenna picks a romcom, and for two hours I don't think about my schedule or my planner or MIT.
It's nice. For a while. Then the thought of tomorrow pulls me off the couch earlier than Jenna would like.
The house is dim when I walk in. Mom’s asleep on the sofa next to Hunter, both snoring softly under a blanket. The TV is still on and casts a bluish hint over their peaceful faces. I gently wake my mom so she can put Hunter to bed.
Back in my room, the planner is right where I left it, open and waiting.
Finishing the last few pages takes twenty minutes, and when it's done, every class of the first semester has a plan.
Days for calls with Braden are marked with heart stickers.
Perfect. I set out my clothes and bag for tomorrow, then sit on the edge of my bed and look at my vision board.
The crumpled edge of the MIT logo is still there—this time I try bending it backward to flatten it, but it still looks off.
The sound of the printer will bother everyone else, so reprinting it isn’t an option now.
Oh well. My fingers trail over to the edge, where Braden's face beams from a photo booth strip we took at the boardwalk last summer.
I kiss my fingertips and press them to the picture, then I turn off the light and go to bed.
Senior year begins tomorrow, and I have a plan.