Chapter 17
Ada
Jake’s seated when I walk in, elbows on the table, one big hand wrapped around a takeaway coffee.
He’s picked the booth I would’ve chosen, the back right corner, tucked away in the shadows.
It could be a coincidence, but I doubt it.
He always noticed things. Arranged the world to make it easier for me.
It doesn’t change a thing. Just makes it worse.
“Hi,” I say, sliding in across from him.
He looks hollowed out, like someone scraped out everything soft and left just enough to function. But his storm-grey eyes are the same as ever and seeing them makes my heart flip over, same as ever.
I think of the crying toddler. The rainbow I imagined extending between us. It grounds me, strengthens me in ways I could never explain.
Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it go.
He studies me, a smile ghosting across his face. “You look…”
“Like garbage?”
His smile falters. “Like you did at school. You haven’t aged a day.”
I hate him. I hate his words. I hate the way he still manages to knock me sideways and flatter me all in one breath. I hate that I still feel it. I hate us both.
“Jersey,” I say, tossing it on the table between us.
He doesn’t even look at it. “I miss you.”
I miss him, too. That’s the worst part. That, and everything else.
“I just ran into your girlfriend.”
He frowns.
“Jenny. She dropped by Stabbies to have a go at Cece. Told me you two have been swapping nudes for years.”
His face tightens. “We haven’t. She’s been sending me pictures. Even when she was married, she was doing it.”
The pointlessness of this argument makes my blood boil. “And you just accepted them, did you? Not only that, met up with her without telling me?”
The waitress arrives just in time to save him. I flash her a smile. “Hi, can I get an Irish coffee and a prosecco, please?”
I chose liquored caffeine and sparkling wine because it seemed ‘brunchy,’ but from the way the waitress is looking at me, I’m still giving off ‘sad wino.’
Oh well.
“Anything to eat?” she asks.
“No thanks,” I say, looking Jake dead in the eye.
He doesn’t comment on my order. “Nothing for me either, thanks.”
“Then I’ll just get your drinks.” The waitress rushes away like I would if I felt the vibes at this table.
“So,” I say, picking up the sugar canister and tilting it back and forth, watching the brown crystals tumble. “How’s things?”
Jake glowers at me in that way that once meant I was about to be thrown against a wall and fucked senseless. I ignore it. I still want him, I’m not going to pretend I don’t, but I’d hammer a nail into my hand before I ever let him touch me again.
“I’ve been better. How’d you pull up after I saw you last?”
“Fine.”
His jaw clenches. “You fuck those uni pricks?”
Not even close, but he doesn’t have the right to ask me that shit. “Guess you’ll never know. Next question.”
“You still coming to the reunion?”
“Yup. I’m thinking of inviting the old First XV to run a train on me. Reckon they’d be keen?”
His expression answers for him.
“Great,” I say. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Jake grips his takeaway cup hard enough to dent it. “So, what? You’re gonna sleep with every guy in Pukekohe just to get back at me?”
“Oh, no, Jake. I’ll do it because it’ll feel amazing. And if that ruins Main Street for you forever, if every handshake becomes ‘Was it this dude, as well?’ Then that’s just a bonus.”
It’s a lie. I don’t want anyone. Right now, I have the sex drive of a zoo panda, but I resent Jake taking the fake moral high ground almost as much as I resent having to show up for this stupid conversation.
“So, that’s my petty insults and nebulous threats,” I say. “Can I go now?”
He softens. “Please stay?”
“Why?”
“I just… Whatever you do because you’re mad at me, just please don’t go near Thrasher?”
I snort. “Mate, if Thrasher Thompson was drowning, I’d throw him a cinderblock. Even you’re not worth that.”
He bursts out laughing, and I feel that old, humiliating flicker of pride. My drinks arrive, and my hand hovers between the spiked coffee and the wine, unsure which is the more appropriate starter.
“Bubbles,” Jake says with a faint smile.
I pick up the coffee and take a swig. “Cheers.”
“Brat.”
He’s right, I am being a brat, and I shouldn’t be. The opposite of attraction isn’t ‘flirty combativeness,’ it’s indifference, and I didn’t come here to give him hope.
Jake seems to sense my shift in mood. He leans in. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times already, but I’ll say it again: I’m not interested in Jenny. I never have been. I met her for coffee about the reunion. I was wasted when we hooked up. I barely remember anything that went down between us.”
“Cool.”
He scowls. “You never regretted hooking up with anyone?”
I scowl right back. “Sure. But I didn’t sneak off to have coffee with them to bitch about you.”
“I didn’t bitch about you to Jenny.”
“Yeah, I’m really in the mood to believe you, champ.” I take another swig of coffee, the alcohol sinking into my chest like lead. “Let’s set aside the sex. You lied to me about meeting up with her the day you got back from South Africa. And you’d have kept lying if she hadn’t posted about it.”
He flinches. “I didn’t know—”
“If I wanted to hear a man talk shit, I’d go to church. You knew we hated each other. That’s why you wanted to keep me from going to the reunion, right? You realised if we showed up together, Jenny would go out of her way to inform me she’d sucked your stupid dick and we’d be done for.”
Jake looks down at his hands.
“Quite the bind, huh? Having to front with your mates like you want to marry me, while simultaneously hiding me from the lizard running the reunion. I’m not surprised you wanted to keep me away.”
More silence. I pick up the wine and take a long slug. It’s too sweet. Too fizzy. I can feel the waitress watching me from the counter, and I decide I’m about done with this conversation.
“Here’s my closing statement. Your bullshit plan to whisk me away, dodging Jenny and any consequences for your stupid life choices, failed.
You could have pulled it off, but you love the taste of boots too much.
You met Jenny for coffee and posed for that picture and gave her enough ammunition to ruin my life again, because God forbid anyone in Pukekohe ever have a bad word to say about Jake Graves-Holland. ”
I watch the last of his hope drain from his eyes. “You’ve got me dead to rights, Renaldo.”
“I know. That’s why meeting up today was pointless.”
“Then why’d you come?”
“Because…” I say slowly. “… I’m finally ready to look you in the face and say ‘How fucking dare you?’ Not just because of the Jenny crap—although fuck you for that.
But for thinking I wouldn’t figure out what you were doing.
Cece, too. You’re not smarter than us. You’re not even smarter than Jenny Wallis, and she’s the dumbest bitch on earth. ”
“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve done better.”
“Yeah. You should’ve because anyone willing to be friendly with that cow gets the same treatment from me that she does.”
Jake’s grey eyes flick sideways. “Ada…”
“What?”
“Look, I know I fucked up. But I don’t get why you’re still this angry. What happened with you and her went down years ago. You’re a good person. I don’t get why you’re wasting your energy hating her this much. She’s petty. Caring about her is beneath you. It’s beneath both of us.”
I study my former lover over the rim of my wine glass. I don’t shout. I don’t throw said wine glass at his head. The rage moving through me is glacial, an ancient coldness that’s been forming since I arrived at Pukekohe High.
“If there’s one thing I hate more than being underestimated…” I whisper. “… it’s being told the things that happened to me at school didn’t matter. Like it’s all fine now because everyone was underage then.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did. Do you even know what happened between Jenny and me? Do you have any fucking clue?”
Jake’s gaze lifts to the ceiling. Not an eye-roll but close. “For fuck’s sake, she was jealous of you, Ada.”
“Don’t you dare make excuses for her.”
“I’m not! She was jealous of you because you were beautiful and talented, and every guy in our year wanted to see your tits. I know she made up bullshit about you, but—”
“Shut up.”
I don’t shout. I don’t even raise my voice. Instead, I make the decision I’ve been toying with since I agreed to show up at this café.
“I’m going to tell you something now,” I say in a voice barely more than a whisper. “And when I’m done, I’m going to ask if you still think it’s wrong for me to be mad at Jenny Wallis. And I’m very fucking interested in what your answer’s gonna be.”
Jake stiffens. “You don’t have to—”
“Oh no, I want to. If I have to carry this, you can take your fucking share.”
“Okay,” he says, looking defeated. “What happened?”
I close my eyes and remember the warmth of the late April sun on my face. The weight of my backpack, crammed with textbooks and the flute case I try to keep hidden at all times. I smell freshly cut grass and meat pies buried in greasy paper bags.
“The day before Anzac Day,” I tell Jake. “Our last year of school. There was that deal with Pukekohe Bakery. We could order cookies and rolls and stuff, and they’d get delivered at lunch. Remember?”
“Yeah.” Jake scrubs a hand through his hair. “I remember.”
“Great. So, I ordered two biscuits and a chocolate milkshake and went to the netball courts at lunch to collect. And who was handing out the food but Head Girl Jenny Wallis, cunting it up as usual. She shoved the bag at me and said, ‘Eat up, slut.’”
“Ada—”
“Oh no,” I say with a laugh that sounds insane even to my own ears. “We’re just getting warmed up.”
He stares at me, and I can tell he doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next. Too fucking bad.