8. The Nag
eight
The Nag
M y breath catches in my throat. “Jacob Ricks?”
“Hi Jess.” Impossible. Unbelievable. But it is Jacob. It has to be. He still has the same boyish half-grin that makes one dimple stand out on his left cheek. He still has the same deep brown eyes.
I grip my gym bag for support and try to breathe. Childhood memories shouldn’t be allowed to look that good. “What are you doing here?”
“I got transferred to Fort Lewis a couple months ago.”
“I know that.” I work to keep the shock out of my voice. “What are you doing here ?”
He shrugs casually. “Your mom sent me.”
“My mom?”
It looks like Jasmine is about to lose it completely and start laughing—at me. It must look like I’ve seen a ghost. That’s what it feels like, that I’m looking at the unbelievably hot ghost of childhood's past.
“I stopped by your house for a visit.” He says it like it’s completely normal for him to just drop in, like it hasn’t been five years since we’ve seen each other. “Your mom said your car wasn’t working, and that you needed a ride home.”
“Oh,” I hesitate, “I was going to go with Jasmine.”
“Okay,” he draws the word out slowly, his southern drawl coming out. “I guess I don’t have to take you home.”
Jaz gives me a bump with her hip, probably to bring me out of my trance. Of course, I want him to take me home. At least I think I do. “No, that’s not it. It’s just, well, you’re kind of the last person I expected to see today.”
“It’s good to see you, Jess.” He steps forward and gives me a hug.
I'm too shocked to hug him back. When he releases me, I step back and cross my arms to cover the smudges of sweat under my arms and the line of sweat under my breasts. I can’t believe how bad I look.
Dripping sweat, no make-up, and I can feel wisps of hair that escaped from my braid clinging to my forehead.
Nothing like the scene I’d conjured up when I thought of seeing Jacob again, something like me in a flowing dress, standing on a balcony, the wind gently teasing my hair, while he kneels before me confessing his undying love.
He looks awesome. Gorgeous. Way better than my imagination.
His sandy hair is military short with a little spike to the front.
He’s wearing his uniform—camo pants, boots, and a khaki t-shirt that’s tight enough to see the outline of his dog tags, a broad chest, and bulging biceps. And I thought he was hot before.
“I’m supposed to let this stranger take you home?” Jasmine looks from Jacob to me. I wish she would stop looking at me like that.
“Sorry, Jaz, this is Jacob Ricks, an old friend,” I stumble over the words. “From when I was a kid. His family used to live in our rental house.”
Jasmine holds out her hand, totally cool and unflustered. “Nice to meet you, Jacob. I’m Jasmine.”
I’m suddenly aware of how good she looks.
Her straight black ponytail shines in the fluorescent lights, and her perfectly matched red crop top and short shorts hug her curves in all the right places.
There must be some cheerleader secret, handed down through the ages, for working out without sweating.
She looks as fresh and perky now as she does when she’s dancing in front of the bleachers at a basketball game.
She turns back to me, still grinning. “If I’m not taking you home, I need to get going. I take it you’re not coming tonight?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll call you later.”
“You’d better.” Jasmine says, not quite under her breath. “Well, I gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Jacob.”
“Nice to meet you, Jasmine.”
I can’t help but wonder how nice he thinks it is.
When she’s a few steps behind Jacob, Jaz turns around and catches my eye. She mouths, “Army guy, got it.” Jacob turns around to see what I’m looking at, but she’s already heading down the stairs.
“I’m sorry.” Jacob looks back at me. “Did you have plans?”
“Just some party. No big deal.” I’m trying to sound casual, like I go to parties every weekend and I can afford to miss one, but my heart is racing.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“Ready to go?”
I’d like to take a shower and change my clothes. I’d like to do my hair and put on makeup. I’d like a chance to catch my breath and make my heart stop pounding. I’m not sure how to tell him that, so I shrug, “I guess so.”
He reaches for my gym bag. “I can take that for you.”
“Thanks.” My hands are sweaty. I rub them off on my pants before I hand him the bag.
I feel like I’m stumbling all the way to his car—the way I used when I followed him as a kid. I wish I could think of something intelligent to say.
He stops by one of the coolest cars I’ve ever seen.
Not in the Corvette or Beemer category of impressive.
Instead, it’s street racer cool—low to the ground, with a spoiler and custom wheels.
The best part is the paint job. The front is black, and the back is silver.
When the black paint reaches the door it breaks up into smaller and smaller drops, like someone dipped the front of a silver car in black paint and drove fast, leaving a trail of black paint across the sides and along the top of the car.
I touch the hood of his car. “This is an awesome car.”
It’s the right thing to say. Jacob slides his hand over the paint job and smiles.
“I was kind of a motor head in high school. I had a buddy who was an artist. He did the paint job for me and I kept his car running for him.” He touches the detail on the side.
“It’s pretty conspicuous now, but I can’t bring myself to give it up. ”
“I think it’s very cool.” I trace the silver paint on the door and pause over a slight imperfection, a square of black that doesn’t match the rest.
Jacob looks embarrassed. “I did that. It used to say ‘Liz’, my girlfriend from high school. She dumped me two weeks before graduation, something about finding a guy who was more into her than into his car.”
Stupid girl.
Jacob puts my bag in the trunk and then opens the door for me.
As soon as I sit down I reach for the window control. “Do you mind if I roll down the window?” I know I smell like a gym sock.
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “It’s raining.”
“It’s always raining. If we kept the windows up every time it rained, we might never get any fresh air.” Lame, lame, lame, but it’s the only thing I can think of to say.
“Good point.” He climbs into the driver’s seat, rolling down his window a few inches. “I forgot how often it rains here.” As we start to move, I get worried that the wind blowing in will carry the smell to him. I huddle next to the door, freezing in a puddle of cold sweat.
“So, Jess.” I like the way it sounds when he says my name. Jacob always had a bit of a Southern accent, like his mom. The years he spent in North Carolina after they moved have made it stronger. “What’s up with your car?”
“My car?” I forgot I owned a car. I almost forgot that I have a name.
“Yeah, your car. Your mom said it wasn’t running.”
I make a face. “You mean The Nag.”
“Your mom?” He raises his eyebrows.
“No, my car. I call it ‘The Nag.’ You know, it's supposed to be a Mustang, but it’s more of...it’s a horse thing.” My car’s nickname suddenly seems extremely childish.
“But it’s not running?”
My explanation comes out in a nervous rush. “It hasn’t run well since I bought the stupid thing. Now it’s really dead, and I can’t afford to fix it.” I laugh; it sounds high pitched and strained. “If it were really a horse, I’d probably just shoot it.”
He drops one hand to the gearshift. “Maybe I could look at it. I’m pretty good with cars.”
“That would be great.” Jacob in my front yard, bent over my car. I like that picture. “But you don’t have to.”
“No problem, anything for an old friend.” His car accelerates onto the freeway and the sound of the engine changes from a whine to a loud buzz. He must have done something to the engine to make it sound that way.
Even with the noise of the engine, the car feels too quiet.
I scramble for something to say. “I can’t believe how long it’s been since you--” I catch myself and bite my tongue.
“I mean it seems like forever ago that you guys lived here.” For a second I thought I was going to say, ‘since you kissed me.’
I wonder if he ever thinks about the day he kissed me.
Probably not the way I do. I’m sure Jacob has kissed a lot of girls, both before and since he left.
I’m just the annoying little girl who had a huge crush on him.
He probably kissed me because he felt sorry for me because I was crying.
He probably never thought he’d see me again. Maybe he doesn’t even remember it.
“It has been a while. I saw your brother Tyler at the house. He was just a little kid when we left, now he’s almost as tall as me. Weird.” Jacob turns and looks at me. “And you. You’ve really changed.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. Thanks for noticing?
“I didn’t recognize you at all when I watched your class. Your mom didn’t tell me you were the instructor. If she had, it might have been easier for me to find you.”
“You were watching?” I can feel my face getting red. I don’t even like watching myself in the mirror. I finally got used to the class watching my every move, but Jacob…
“Yeah, it’s a good thing I figured out who you were before I did something stupid like ask for your phone number.” He laughs.
“My phone number?” My heart leaps. Is he interested?
“Yeah, you’ve grown up a lot. What are you now, fifteen?”
“Seventeen,” my voice squeaks when I find it.
“Wow, all grown up.” He grins and taps my shoulder with his fist in a fake punch. He used to do that when we were kids. “You’d better watch out; in a year or two you’ll have old guys like me hitting on you.”