CHAPTER 15 Jake
Jake
Can we talk?
These three words glare out at me from my mobile phone screen, replacing the other three words that had been plaguing me for the last eighteen hours and twenty-three minutes.
Amelia kissed me. Amelia kissed me. Amelia kissed me.
And now she wants to talk. Those three words together mean nothing good and I put my phone down on the highest shelf away from me, hoping if I can’t see it, I won’t have to deal with it.
For those brief moments when Amelia’s lips wereon mine—finally—everything was perfect. The stars were aligned; the angels were singing. I’d found my bliss. And then…she’d panicked. I could see it clear as day on her face. One minute we’d been lost in each other and the next she was withdrawing from me, running from me, like I’ve seen her do before. And now she wants to talk.
“It can’t be good,” I tell my TV friend Gina, a contestant on Alone: The Australian Wilderness, who’s currently running naked into the freezing ocean waters of the Bass Strait, which are just south of where I live. “No one shares a kiss with a guy and then wants ‘to talk’ and it ends up being a good thing.”
Gina continues on her delirious way to hypothermia, and I focus on the fact that I’m becoming a little nutty as well. Talking to a reality show contestant, instead of to the person I want to spend all my days talking to. I guess I’m just too afraid of what she might say, that she may declare us over before we’d even begun.
“Tea,” I mutter, pausing the TV and walking to the kitchen. “That should help.”
I fill the kettle up and get down the box of Melbourne Breakfast Tea Leaves I’d bought soon after Amelia started dating Robby. I’d overheard her asking for a cup of tea, only for Robby to make her a cup of coffee instead. He really is the worst. After that time, I’d casually asked her what sort of tea she liked the best, and she’d lit up like my taking an interest in something as small as her tea preference was a gift. She’d babbled on and on about her favourite tea shop, T2, which stocks all kinds of tea paraphernalia and after she’d eventually told me the one she likes the best—Melbourne Breakfast—I’d sought out this shop and bought a few boxes. For the next time she wanted tea, not coffee.
This is just one of the many details I’d learnt about Amelia during those awful months she was dating my brother. Some were obvious, like her deep love for that cheesy show, Gilmore Girls (which I secretly loved!) and her obsessive need to change her hair colour every few weeks. But others were only obvious to anyone who was actually paying attention (so, not Robby). I noticed she scrunches her nose up when she’s listening to something or someone intently, and how she can’t lie to save herself. Most people look to the left when they lie, but Amelia, she closes her eyes completely. And I don’t think she realises it. Even if it’s a small, white lie, she blinks for a really long time, until she’s finished and then she just looks guilty, waiting to be caught out. It’s incredibly adorable and speaks to how pure her heart is. Lying does not come easily to Amelia.
Other bits and pieces have imprinted on my brain, against my better judgement. Like how she mixes soft girly clothes with something edgy; dresses with combat boots or sweet floral tops with tight leather pants. She’s always on time, obsessively so. She has a sweet tooth and will happily eat packets of Tiny Teddies all day long. She kills all her plants by over-watering them (I think she loves them to death). And she has the worst taste in men.
I’ve learnt these things just by being in her presence and paying attention, and I adore every single thing I know. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like if she were actually mine and I could learn everything there is to know about her.
“It shouldn’t be this hard.”
My words echo off my walls in my empty house and I hazard a glance at my phone where it’s taunting me from the shelf I’d left it on. I should just text her back and have the conversation, rip the Band-Aid off, so to speak, but I find this place of not knowing a bit more tolerable. If I don’t call her, our relationship is like Schrodinger’s cat—neither alive nor dead. The preferable place to be, it would seem.
And to be honest, if only with myself, I’m a little pissed off. Frustrated with how it all played out, how after being patient and earning her trust over so many months, she still ran away from me. She still doesn’t feel safe enough with me to give me her heart.
My wretched phone beeps at me again, and I send it an annoyed glance this time. Is it Amelia wanting to force the issue? Wanting to get this part over and done with so she can go back to her dating plan? Man, I hate that plan.
“Fine.” I stomp over to my phone, well aware that I’m acting like a child and forever grateful that there’s no one around to witness my behaviour. Gritting my teeth, I check my messages, letting out a relieved breath when I see the latest one is from Steven.
STEVEN: What happened to you last night? You disappeared.
What happened to me last night? Not much, except for the life-altering kiss followed by the swift kick of rejection.
She said she wanted that kiss,my inner voice reminds me, trying to lift my spirits and dampen my temper. And while she was in my arms, while she was kissing me, it had certainly felt that way. But then why did she pull away so suddenly? Is it because of Robby? Because if so, well, that problem isn’t going away. I’m always going to be his older brother.
JAKE: Amelia happened.
STEVEN: Oh, do tell.
He really is like a teenage girl sometimes, loving to get in on the juicy gossip.
JAKE: There’s nothing to tell. We kissed…
STEVEN: Congrats, man! That’s awesome news.
JAKE: …and now she wants ‘to talk’.
STEVEN: Yikes.
JAKE: Exactly.
STEVEN: Want to go out for a beer?
I take a sip of my now lukewarm tea and think about it. Maybe a night out will help get me out of my head. Get me out of these four walls which feel like they’re closing in on me. Or maybe a night at home to think about what’s next, what do I want, is a better way to go.
JAKE: Nah, I’m good. I’ll call you soon.
STEVEN: Call me anytime. And if I don’t hear from you in the next 48 hours, I’m coming over…
JAKE: Is that a threat?
STEVEN: It’s a promise.
A laugh escapes me. Although he’s annoying and a busy-body who’s all up in my business, I’m grateful to have him. Otherwise, I’d do nothing other than work. I’d never see the inside of a bar or a restaurant or a ballroom. I wouldn’t have met Amelia that first night, before she met my brother.
Damn Robby for matching with her first!
It’s not the first or even the tenth time I’ve railed against that stupid app for linking the two of them together. Though, in reality, Amelia was the one who made the choice that night. And even after she explained it, the wanting to trust the algorithm and being triggered by my description as a ‘workaholic’, it’s a bitter pill to swallow. She will always be Robby’s girlfriend first, and even though I’m completely crazy about her, it’s a hard thing to come to terms with.
I put my phone on silent and back up on the top shelf—attempting to put it out of sight and therefore out of mind—and sit down to finish my episode of television. Then bed. I’ll deal with Amelia tomorrow, when hopefully all my wayward thoughts have settled down.
I’m deep in the Tasmanian forest with Tommy, one of only two remaining contestants, as he sets yet another rabbit trap which will not be successful—he’s going to starve at this rate—when the sound of keys in the door has me bolting upright.
“Robby?”
“Hey, big bro.”
I watch, dumbfounded, as my little brother strolls into the living room, dropping his duffel bag and discarding his keys as he goes.
What is he doing here? He’s supposed to be gone until February.
“What are you doing here?”
Robby gives me a lazy look, like he can’t even be bothered to make a proper expression. “I live here.”
Such a twat.
“I know that.” I get up and round the couch, stopping a few steps away from him. “You were supposed to be gone all summer.”
He shrugs, another lazy gesture. “I changed my mind.”
Flinging himself on the spot I’d just vacated, he puts his feet up on the arm of the couch and changes the channel, like it’s been six minutes and not six weeks since he’d flounced off on ‘tour’.
I grab the remote, angrily putting it back to the show I’d just been watching, before pausing it and turning to face him. With supreme effort, I keep the annoyance off my face, needing to get to the bottom of his sudden reappearance.
“What happened?”
He sighs like talking to me is such a hassle. “Nothing ‘happened’,” he says, using exaggerated quotation marks and I want to punch him. “Things with the band were pretty slow, and I got over it.”
This is typical Robby. He’s always floating from one thing to the next, never committing, never seeing things through.
“So, you just left them?”
He makes another face, this time looking supremely annoyed to be questioned in this way. “It’s not like they ever let me play.” He sounds like a petulant child. So, accurate. “And I was bored.”
This is so completely on brand for Robby that it takes my breath away. First, he jumps into a commitment with full enthusiasm and then he drops it when it all gets too hard. Or too boring, in this case. He does this with work and with jobs around the house. He does this with women. He did this with Amelia.
My blood boils.
“Didn’t you expect this? You were the back-up drummer?”
He strokes the beginnings of the awful-looking beard on his chin. “I didn’t really think about it. It just sounded cool. And Rebecca wanted to go, so I went.”
The mention of his girlfriend has all the memories of that night, the one that had Amelia storming over here, note in hand, flooding through my brain. Without thinking, I fist the front of his shirt in my hand and pull him upright.
“Speaking of Rebecca.” My face is mere inches from his. “What was with you leaving that note for Amelia before you took off?”
Robby’s face flames red as he pushes me away from him. “How do you know about that?”
“Because she turned up here with the note, looking for you.”
His face turns hopeful and I stalk away from him, the temptation to punch him getting stronger every minute.
“She did?”
“Yes, she was upset.”
His face falls. Good. “How upset?”
I rub my face with my hands. “Actually, she wasn’t upset. She was seething mad. What were you thinking?”
He flops back down on the couch, covering his eyes with his forearms, the very picture of dramatic. “I just missed her.”
He is such a twat!
“You. Have. A. Girlfriend.” I articulate each word, trying to get them to sink in.
“I know,” he replies hotly. “And I really like Rebecca. But Amelia, well, she was special.”
I know that!my inner voice wants to scream at him. I’ve always known that.
“So, what was the plan? You leave the note and then take off, expecting what…?”
He has the decency to look somewhat ashamed. “I left the note two days before I was due to leave. If she’d called me and wanted to give us another chance, I’d have stayed.”
I’m floored by this information. Does Robby still have feelings for Amelia? Please don’t let it be so. We have enough obstacles in our way.
“And now?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Now what?” he has the audacity to look confused.
“How do you feel about Amelia now?”
I hold my breath as he ponders this, the time he’s taking to answer the question speaking volumes.
“Eh, I think I’m over it. It was just an impulse thing, you know? I have Rebecca now and she’s cool.”
The air whooshes out of my lungs. How can Robby speak about women like this? Like they’re interchangeable and he can pick and choose as he pleases? And how dare he put Amelia in this scenario, like she’s one of many instead of one in a million?
“You’re a jerk, you know that?”
Robby looks surprised that I’m speaking to him like this. Which is fair, because in his entire pampered life, no one had ever really called him out on his destructive behaviour. He’s forever been the golden child who can do no wrong.
“What’s up with you?”
I growl. A literal growl from deep inside my throat. “What’s up with me? I had to deal with a furious, very upset Amelia when she came here looking for you.”
“Well, sorry man.” He doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “But it’s not like you have a busy social life. You have the time to deal with these situations. And Amelia always liked you. I’m sure you smoothed it all over.”
I tuck that small piece of information away for later. Amelia told Robby that she liked me. My heart blooms, just a little. “So? That’s not the point. When are you going to grow up and learn, you can’t mess with people’s feelings on a whim?”
“Alright,” he huffs, sitting up and glaring at me. “I get it. Enough with the big bro lecture.”
It’s not nearly enough, if his defiant expression is anything to go by.
“I’ll call Amelia and apologise. She’ll be cool.”
The blood in my veins runs cold at the thought of Robby reaching out to Amelia. My Amelia.
“You leave her alone.” My voice is low and threatening even to my own ears. “You’ve done enough.”
Robby throws his hands up in surrender. “Whatever. It’s all in the past. I’m sure you’ve fixed it and Amelia is fine.”
Again, this is typical Robby. Happy to make a mess and equally happy to have someone else clean it up. Not that Amelia is a mess, even though she seems convinced otherwise.
“She is fine,” I tell him, my voice now firm with authority. I will make sure she’s always fine. “Just leave her alone.”
He stands up, turning his back on me. “Fine. Geez, man. I just got home and you’re already getting stuck into me. You know you’re not my dad.”
“I know that. I just wish you’d stop acting like a kid.”
With a grunt as his only reply, he slinks off into his bedroom, muttering a ‘happy homecoming to me’ under his breath. Like the brat that he is.
“Should’ve stayed gone,” I mutter in reply, then wishing I hadn’t. There’s something about Robby that brings out the worst in me. Makes me stoop to his level.
As his bedroom door slams, reinforcing that he’s home for good and now a person I’m going to have to deal with daily, I turn off the TV, no longer in the mood to watch even my favourite show.
Switching off the living room lights, I pick up my phone, frowning when there are no new notifications, and walk to my bedroom. Once there, I sink gratefully onto my mattress, clutching my phone to my chest, closing my eyes and letting the events of the last twenty-four hours run through my mind. Amelia at the ball surrounded by admirers, Amelia swaying her body close to mine on the dancefloor, Amelia holding my hand as we walked along the moonlit beach, Amelia admitting she wished it was me she had let in, Amelia kissing me, leaving me, texting me. Me ignoring Amelia. And then to top things off, Robby. Back home and ready to cause more mischief.
If I thought things were bad just one hour ago, when I’d received Amelia’s text, well, they are so much worse now. And with her message sitting there, read but not responded to, and Robby’s presence looming like a dark shadow, for the first time in my life, I don’t have a clue what to do next.
Or even where to start.