Chapter 9
I’m on a high when the fourth episode finishes. Téiglin has made a reappearance, running into some council meeting of his fellow forest creatures, interrupting Minotaurs and fauns and a very large, badly animated owl, to report back what he found out about the evil royal family.
I’m still not sure why they’re so evil, or what the whole drama is exactly, but Téiglin has solidified himself as an endearing, sort of bumbling character—and I’m here for it.
Plus, it’s given me some new inspiration for my art project, and I’m suddenly itching to get home to my sketchbook to draw, which is…
new. I normally turn to art to while away time, rather than because I feel this burning need to put an idea onto canvas and see it come to life.
So maybe Of Wrath and Rune isn’t all so awful and boring.
I’m not sure I’d call myself a “fan” at this stage, but when I tell Jake I’m excited to watch the next few episodes, I’m surprised to find just how much I mean it. The storyline hasn’t captured me in the slightest, but the characters are making up for that.
“Are you around this week?” I ask Jake. “Maybe we can watch some more?”
Plus, I’ll get to see him again, and maybe we won’t have to put up with our third wheel this time.
But Jake hesitates, and in that split second, my stomach sinks.
“Oh, uh…I don’t know, Cer.” He rubs the back of his neck, and glances at Max for a beat too long. The usurper, the interloper. “We’ve got a lot of homework, and then it’s soccer, plus the match on Sunday—we were gonna go out after that, and…I mean, you’re working Saturday anyway, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
I trail off, swallowing the rest of that sentence. My shift at the H this wedge between us hurts too much, and I know that if I could just get rid of it, things might go back to the way they were before.
If I take this betrayal and upset out on Jake, it could ruin us for good.
But Max—Max is very safe to hate. He’s the one who’s taking this away from me, after all.
“Maybe next week?” Jake says, more hopefully. “We could make this a regular Wednesday thing! Max, you’d be up for that, right?”
Oh, goodie, weekly hangouts with Max.
But if the alternative is not knowing when I might have plans with Jake next…
I force a smile. “That’d be great! Yeah, Max, are you in?” Please say no, please say no.
He looks a little startled when I talk more directly to him, and he doesn’t smile but does nod once, hesitant. “Sure, I guess.”
Why? Why would he agree when he so clearly doesn’t want to be here?
My smile strains. “Perfect.”
Jake beams, looking genuinely thrilled, absolutely oblivious to the tension between me and Max. “Awesome! OWAR Wednesdays, it’s on the calendar. You staying for dinner, by the way, Cer? Think Mom’s doing a chili.”
The “yes” is so ready on my tongue, but Max is slouched low in the gaming chair on his phone like he’s already been invited and will be staying, so I hear myself telling Jake, “Thanks, but I should probably get home.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah! Next time, though, maybe.”
He brightens, and I reach for my bag, not realizing when I haul it upright that it’s open.
“Got it!” Jake says, immediately diving to collect my schoolbooks that have fallen out. One catches his eye, though—a blue spiral-bound sketchbook. He was with me when I bought it. He lights up as he starts to thumb through it, and I freeze.
Like, my whole body. Turned to ice. Rooted to the spot. The world stops turning, except for Jake, who seems to be moving at a lightning speed I can’t fully process.
“Ooh, what’ve you been drawing lately, Cer? Any nice profiles of yours truly? I am such a handsome muse, after all.”
I’d laugh, but it’s not funny, because the sketchbook contains worse things than a collection of portraits of the boy I have a crush on, like…The Fangirl Project.
I drop my bag—sending schoolbooks flying again—so I can snatch it off him.
Jake laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “All right, Cer, calm down. Show me when they’re finished, yeah?”
He says that last part more sincerely—genuinely wanting to see what I’ve been working on, knowing they’re not actually pictures of him. I breathe easier for the out, and nod. “Course. I always do, don’t I?”
After shoving everything back into my bag—the sketchbook secure so it can’t make another accidental appearance—I tell Max, “See you,” even though I really hope I don’t. He waves goodbye, and Jake comes downstairs to walk me out.
It’s the first time we’ve properly had a minute alone all evening—even though I can hear his mom on the phone in the living room to somebody and his dad puttering around in the kitchen, both home from work by now.
“Thanks for the watch party,” I tell Jake. “I had a nice time.”
“Good. Told you you’d like it, didn’t I?”
He waggles his eyebrows and nudges me with his elbow until I laugh and say, “Yes, yes, all right, you’re right, you always know best.”
“And Max is pretty cool, too, isn’t he? Don’t you think?”
“He’s…cool, yeah.” Frosty, at any rate…
Jake bounces a little on the balls of his feet, his eyes warm and bright, and my heart swells in my aching chest; it’s so important to him that Max and I get along, it’d hurt him so badly if he thought we didn’t.
So, attempting a more sincere tone, I tell him, “Max seems great. I’ll see you both next week.”
While I’m pulling my shoes on and getting my coat, Jake asks me softly, “How’s things going with your mom and dad?”
I can’t repress a groan. Jake knows all the gory details—or enough of them, at least—that I don’t bother pretending with him, even if things have felt off between us lately.
“Weird. Mom’s got all these plans with friends suddenly, but that just feels like some guise so Dad has an excuse to see me, and we had this really weird family dinner over the weekend where they were all smiles and nicey-nice…
It was like they’d had a full personality transplant.
And they’re seeing the couples’ counselor again.
It’s just…I thought things were finally calming down, you know?
Dust settling, and whatever. But it’s almost like they’re trying to go back to how things were—and they were never that good in the first place…
Honestly?” I pause for breath; this is the first chance I’ve had to voice any of this out loud, and the weight off my shoulders is so abrupt, I feel like my knees might give way.
“Honestly, it makes me feel sick. I hate it.”
“Oh, Cer.” Jake’s eyes are shining with sympathy, and when he gives my arm a squeeze, it’s suddenly all I can do not to burst into tears.
Jake pulls me into an embrace that’s less of his usual rough-and-ready bear hug and more like a proper, comforting cwtch, squeezing me tight, his arms wrapping all the way around and his head tucking next to mine.
I breathe him in, a familiar scent of bergamot, and instead of worrying about whether this is the kind of hug that’s the start of a potential romance, I cling tight to him, glad for my best friend—even if it’s only for these brief snatches of time lately.
“Well, remember,” he says, when we finally part.
I’m blinking my eyes dry before I really do start crying, and Jake has his usual broad smile in place, which makes me feel better already.
“You can always move in here. Not sure what Mom and Dad would say about an extra lodger, or how Gin would feel if you stole her bedroom while she’s at uni, but I’ve watched enough OWAR to know how to deal with them. ”
He leaps back a step to wield an imaginary sword, lunging right and swinging left, and a wobbly laugh spills out of me.
“I can be your Devon, defending the fair maiden—even if she’s strong enough to fight her own battles most of the time.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, and I say, only half a joke, “Until the end?”
He gives me another quick hug. “Until the end.”