Chapter 9
L ater that night, Jane let herself into her apartment and saw Emily and Nick sitting at opposite ends of the couch, each with a book in hand. She made her way over to them and plopped onto the couch, her head in Emily’s lap, her feet in Nick’s.
“Stick a fork in me.”
“Another day of adulting down, a few thousand or so to go,” Nick said mildly.
“No, I give up. I’m going to start a blog and fully embrace agoraphobia,” Jane said.
“You’ll need a cat,” Emily informed her.
“And a computer. Also the ability to use a computer,” Nick added.
“I’m going to write an old-school blog on paper, Emily Dickinson style. Then I’ll get you guys to post it to flagpoles and bulletin boards to garner followers. Then, after the money starts rolling in, I’ll hire newsies to distribute.”
“I hear print’s going to make a comeback, but only if electricity goes out everywhere on earth forever,” Nick said.
“And now we wait,” Jane said, and he looked up from his book to toss her a smile.
“I take it things didn’t go so well with the guy. What happened this time, Janie? Did you accidentally toss him into a meat grinder?” Emily asked.
“Guy, what guy?” Nick asked.
“Jane likes a boy at work. It’s going in typical Jane fashion.”
“Oh, bother. Is he in a full body cast yet?” Nick asked, returning his attention to his book.
“You survived me,” Jane said, tapping him with her foot.
“Barely,” he replied, pinching her toe.
“It went okay,” Jane said when Emily nudged her. “I told him I want to start over again.”
“And forget the kisses?”
“And forget the kisses,” Jane agreed.
“Wait, there were kisses already? You made out with a guy at work? We never made out at work,” Nick said, his eyes narrowing.
“We never worked together,” she said.
“Is the Smithsonian hiring? Because I’m open to a career change if it means we get to make out,” he said.
“You remember we’re broken up, right?”
“Yes, but we never had our rebound fling,” he said. “Everyone’s entitled to at least one, and I feel incredibly cheated.”
“Shh,” Emily said, putting up a hand. “Be pathetic and needy on your own time. I want to hear about the guy. And, for the record, you guys have gotten back together and broken up so many times no one keeps track anymore.”
“Seven,” Nick said, grinning. “I keep track.”
“Eight,” Jane disagreed. “You always forget the second time freshman year.”
“Oh, quite,” he said, gazing off into the distance.
“Anyway,” Jane said, returning her attention to Emily, “I want to get this assignment over with and move on with my life. Nothing is going to come of it, and I’ve already made a fool of myself. Repeatedly.”
“How do you know nothing is going to come of it?” Emily asked. “This guy could be the love of your life.”
“Pardon me, hello, genuine love of her life sitting right here. College sweetheart, remember? Do ten years of off and on dating mean nothing to you people?” Nick said, but they ignored him.
“I barely know him,” Jane said. “I mean, he’s cute and funny and sweet and smart and has a totally cool funky vibe that intrigues me, but otherwise I barely know him.”
“Basically you like everything about him, but you’re scared to put yourself out there because you’re Jane.”
“Should I leave money on the nightstand for that analysis, Doctor?” Jane asked.
Emily grinned. “That was a freebie, but you can buy me dinner tonight, if you like.”
“Let’s get pizza,” Nick piped up.
“If we’re going out, I need to shower,” Emily said, scooting from beneath Jane. When she was safely out of the room, Nick set aside his book and gathered Jane into his lap.
“Let’s make out,” he suggested.
“No,” Jane said.
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve cheated on me three times with three different people. My psychiatrist made me see returning to you is a form of self-harm, a fear I’ll never find anyone better, a pull toward the familiar.”
“Stupid Emily,” he muttered.
“She’s not wrong, you know. You and I, we’re better off as friends, due to your complete faithlessness as a boyfriend. I’ve finally accepted that, and I no longer hate you for hurting me.”
“I love you, Jane, you know I do.”
“I do, in fact, know that.”
“And because I love you, I’m about to impart a painful truth on you: You’re a complete coward, and you shouldn’t be. If you like this guy, total loser though I’m sure he is, then you should go for it. Put yourself out there. Stop hiding. Show him the real Jane. If you do, I promise you’ll blow him away.”
“How do you know I’m hiding?” she asked.
“Because I know you, and I love you, now kiss me quick before Emily comes back.”
“Oh, no,” Jane said.
“What?”
“You and Emily were making out before I got home. That’s why you were sitting so far apart pretending to read. And now you’re scared and trying to deflect your attraction to her.”
“I should not be this easy to read,” Nick said.
“Please, Nick, please don’t do the thing. Don’t hurt Emily. There’s enough heartbreak in the world. Be lovely, be genuine, be the guy I know you actually are deep, deep, deep down inside. Please.” She clasped her hands together under her chin.
“I’ll try. No promises.” He kissed her forehead and let her go. She eased off his lap and picked up Emily’s book, not at all sure how she felt about the possibility of her two best friends getting together. What if they forgot her in their mad desire to be together? Worse, what if they broke up and couldn’t stand to be together?
“When do we get to meet the guy?” Nick asked.
“He’s picking me up tomorrow morning. Please be nice and normal. He is not my boyfriend. He merely has the unfortunate luck to be my crush, and you know from experience what that’s like.”
“Yeah, but I also know the end result, and it’s pretty great, Jane.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.
“I should probably go pack,” she said.
“Let me help you,” Nick said.
“You want to help me pack?” she clarified.
“Yes. I know what looks good on you. Come on.” He took her hand, led her to her bedroom, and began sifting her wardrobe.
“This is weird,” Jane said.
“This is not weird. Friends consult each other over what to wear all the time,” Nick said.
“But you’re more than my friend. There are all the other layers.”
“Consider this a new layer—fashion consultant.”
“How come you never cared what I wore when we were together?” she asked.
“Who says I never cared? I judged you incessantly,” he said.
“Maybe those could be the thoughts you reject before they come out of your mouth,” Jane suggested.
“You dress like a puritan, Janie.”
“I work at a museum, Nick, not a strip club.”
“There’s no law saying you can’t do both. Think of the money you could make with a second job. Where’s the dress you wore for our college graduation?” he asked.
“On the left with the other summer clothes. But it’s sleeveless, I can’t wear that.”
“You can with this sweater,” he said, fishing them out and tossing them on the bed.
“Oh, that’s actually really cute together.”
“I know. How about that pink dress I like with the little horses on it, the one with the brown leather belt?”
“How do you know my clothes this well? I don’t even remember that dress. It’s in the middle, but it’s totally wrong for work.”
“It’s really not. Here, pair it with this jean jacket at night for going out.” He tossed those items on the bed as well.
“What shoes?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“These ankle boots.” He withdrew the boots from her closet and tossed them beside the bed.
“How are you doing this?” she asked.
“You know art is the thing I’m getting a PhD in, so I spend sort of a lot of time thinking about color and composition. You should also change your hair.”
She made a wounded sound and touched her tresses. “But I’ve had this hairstyle since I was fifteen.”
“As someone who started dating you when you were seventeen, darling, I know,” he said.
He picked out another outfit for her and turned his attention to her jewelry. “Wear the beaded necklace I made for you with this one.”
“I can’t wear the necklace you made for me with another man.”
“Of course you can. I use the wallet you bought me when I’m with other women.”
“Yeah, but you made it,” she said, holding the necklace aloft to admire it.
“The necklace and I both want you to be happy,” he insisted. He took the necklace from her, tossed it onto the pile of clothes, and plopped down beside her on the bed. They linked arms. “What’s he like?”
“Do you really want to know?” she asked.
“In theory, yes.”
“He’s a website design consultant,” she said, using the cover story Ridge had provided for her. Blue’s job was classified.
“Poor,” Nick coughed into his hand.
“No, he sold an app,” Jane said.
“Which one?”
“Threeple.”
Nick sat up. “Are you joking? I love that one.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s an amazing ice breaker. Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone, touched the Threeple app, and it sprang to life. “I’ll put in me and give me a name.”
“Martha Stewart,” Jane suggested.
“Martha Stewart,” he agreed, typing in her name. “Look, my grandma was next door neighbors with her cousin so we’re three people apart. And if I put in me and Em.” He held up the phone for her because it made a little party noise of celebration. “It does that whenever you have a first gen connection to someone, no separation. I’d put you in but, you know, you’re off the grid and whatnot.”
“That’s kind of cool, actually. Seeing all the different ways you’re connected to people.”
“What’s the guy’s name? I’ll put him in and see if we’re connected.”
“Blue Bishop,” she replied. Nick gave her the side eye.
“Real name?”
“Real name. And he has blue hair and tattoos from here to here.” She touched his shoulder and wrist.
“Alrighty then,” Nick said. He entered the name and gasped.
“What?” Jane said, tensing.
“That’s so cool. It’s a hidden Easter egg. When you put his name in it brings up a picture of a wizard and tells you not to pay any attention to the man behind the curtain. Awesome. Now I really want to meet him.”
“Maybe you should go to New York with him,” she suggested.
“I’d show him a good time,” Nick said, and she laughed. “You should too, Jane. Let him see the real you, the fun you.”
“You know it’s not up to me. I hear normal words in my head, but then they come out like gobbledygook, like English is my second language and awkwardness is my first.”
“Anytime you get in a jam, pretend he’s me,” Nick advised.
“Are you suggesting anytime I don’t know what to say I should yell at him for cheating on me?” she asked.
“You never yelled at me. You just looked so…broken. Yelling would have been much better. Next time you can yell at me.”
She shook her head. “No next time, Nick.”
“You’re right. Next time, I’ll get it right and we’ll be together forever.”
“Why are you giving me advice when you’re such a complete and total disaster?” she asked.
“Because it’s much easier to see how to fix you than it is me,” he explained.
Emily poked her head in the room. “What are you guys doing in here?”
“I was picking out her clothes,” Nick said.
“Ah. Did you tell her to change her hair, too?”
“Et tu, roomie?” Jane asked, laying her hand protectively over her hair again.
“Change is good, Jane. Embrace it.”
“I’ll think about it. Maybe you guys can do pizza without me. I’m kind of zonked and tomorrow’s a big day.”
Emily and Nick made stilted eye contact. “You wanna?” Emily asked.
“Sure,” Nick said. He rolled off the bed and poked Jane. “Schemer.”
“Be nice,” she said, blowing him a kiss.
“Be brave,” he returned, and she made no reply.