CHAPTER 14 #2
I squeezed my eyes shut, a tear leaking out at the trembling breath Jamie drew in. It was as if someone reached into my chest and gripped hard, trying to make it pop. “Don’t be dramatic, James,” I muttered, letting out a strangled laugh.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lowering his head to rest against the top of mine. “I’m sorry I blindsided you.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so upset about it,” I reached up and scrubbed at my cheek, but another tear replaced the track. “I’m sorry for being the worst friend in the world, Jamie.”
“You’re not. Don’t even say that.”
Jamie’s palm slipped down my back in a soothing lull, and I closed my eyes at his touch.
I wanted to lean in further, to press up firmer against him, to let his comforting warmth swallow us whole.
With each pass of his palm, the emotion choked me further.
I’d kept it all bottled up for so long that it hurt to let out.
The conversation had been long, long overdue, and I hated myself for being so upset for so long. From here on out, I vowed to always be excited for whatever Jamie wanted. I’d never let him feel this way again.
We were quiet for what felt like a long time, but it was a comfortable, healing sort of silence.
I loved Nellie to pieces, but there was something about Jamie that was just…
different. And maybe whatever it was had to do with me secretly drawing him as Kit.
Jamie was steady, warm, and made me feel safe in a way I’d never felt before.
It was one of the many reasons why I loved him.
Love.
I abruptly sat back, clearing my throat as I took the steering wheel in my mind and turned it sharply. “Why are you crying?” I asked him with a little snort, reaching over and laying my palm to his cheek, using my thumb to wipe his tear tracks.
Jamie just looked at me with the same sad brown eyes. “Because you are.”
Why are you crying? I’d asked him in a creaky voice after Dalton had broken up with me, startled by the shininess on his cheeks.
Jamie, kneeling beside Nellie’s bed, head propped against her nightstand as if he’d been there a long time, had watery eyes. The same eyes as now. Because you are.
I slowly passed my thumb along his cheek again, though there was no tear to wipe away.
He sat perfectly still as I traced his skin, until his fingers came up and braceleted my wrist. “We could still do it, you know,” he murmured, fingers soft on my pulse point. “We could still make a graphic novel together. You don’t need a college degree to write a book. Or, draw one, I guess.”
I swallowed hard again. I would’ve thought those words would’ve felt like a consolation prize, a well, you didn’t get into your dream school, but I guess we can still do that, but this was Jamie’s way of gripping onto a part of that dream with all his might.
His way of gripping onto me with all his might.
“I was supposed to get better in college,” I replied, lowering my hand. “I’m not talented enough to draw a graphic novel now.”
“Says who?” Jamie still hadn’t let go, and his thumb brushed over the delicate skin of my wrist. “I say you are.”
You don’t listen to me when I tell you that you’re the most talented artist I’ve ever met.
The words now melted something inside me, but in an unfamiliar way.
It started in my stomach, blooming as if something were trapped there.
“I don’t know,” I began, sniffling, trying to add a note of teasing to my cracking voice.
“You’ll be so busy soon with college, and—”
“You’re always my priority, Daisy.”
Something physically ached within me at the words. The fluttering in my stomach spread, almost tickling, and I fought the urge to close my eyes. “I shouldn’t rank above college. Your parents would be upset.”
“But you do.”
Jamie’s fingers still brushed along my wrist, absentminded, but then his other hand lifted. Slowly, carefully, like he was giving me time to pull away, as if he was fighting some part of him that was telling him not to.
I didn’t move, and he didn’t stop.
His palm settled against my cheek, warm and steady, and my lungs forgot how to work as his thumb traced over the damp tracks there. The pressure was featherlight, and I held perfectly still, my body swaying into his touch as if magnetized.
Jamie, I wanted to say, barely breathing. Stop saying weird things. Stop doing weird things. Stop making it seem like you flipped the Romance Switch.
I didn’t mean any of it, though. My thoughts were a tangle, tripping over themselves, torn between nervousness and something else.
This moment reminded me too much of the night at Lydia’s party, after he’d lifted me onto the dresser, before everyone came rushing in.
A foreign sort of feeling with Jamie, but one I wanted to lean into. And it scared me.
I closed my eyes now, world spinning at the rush. It was just Jamie, but in that moment, everything felt so strange. Even him. Even myself. And I still needed to talk about Dalton, about my sketchbook, but I didn’t know how to begin. “Don’t break up with me,” I whispered.
Jamie’s hand stilled against my cheek. “What?”
“Don’t break up with me.” My voice came out softer this time, more of a plea. I leaned my cheek into his hand the way he had the other day at the playground. Right before he’d turned his head to kiss my palm. “I don’t want our fake relationship to be over yet. I want to keep going.”
“Because it’s working?”
I don’t care, I nearly said. Not what Dalton thought, not what he felt, not any of it. The moment between us now consumed my thoughts, and instead of admitting the truth, though, I said, “Yes.”
I turned my face ever so slightly, the corner of my lips brushing the heel of Jamie’s hand.
Warmth poured through me, enough to make me sway.
Just a little further, I thought, keeping my eyes closed, afraid to see my best friend’s expression.
I want to see if these butterflies are real. I need to know.
I wasn’t sure if I imagined it, but I could’ve sworn Jamie’s hand slid against my cheek, fingers curving toward the back of my head. I tilted my chin up, holding my breath. I need to know—
My bedroom door slammed against the jamb, and if I hadn’t locked it, the door would’ve shoved in. I jerked back as if doused with ice water, gasping.
“Daisy?” Theo’s little voice whispered from the hallway. “Are you up?” And then he rapped his little knuckles against the wood.
My heart jumped into my throat. I shot up from the bed, grabbing Jamie’s hand. “Hide in my closet,” I urged him, heart slamming so loud that I could barely hear myself.
“Daisy,” Jamie hissed, his own cheeks red. “It’s just Theo—”
“If he sees you, he’ll never go to sleep, and his excited voice will wake everyone else.” Jamie tripped over his feet as I dragged him across the floor. I hauled my closet door open, wincing at the clothes I’d haphazardly shoved into it earlier, but there was no time. “I’ll—I’ll be back.”
Jamie’s eyes were wide. “Daze—”
I shut the closet door between us.
I took a second to draw in two steadying breaths, but it didn’t help steady my shaking. What was that? I wondered with a mild sort of shock, feeling the ghost pressure of Jamie’s palm on my cheek. Against the corner of my lips. That… was definitely not fake.
Theo’s small knock came again. “Daisy?”
I hurried over to the door before his voice woke the girls, unlocked the knob, and hauled it open. He stood on the threshold, red hair tousled. “What are you doing awake?”
“I couldn’t fall asleep.”
He had fallen asleep, but Jamie falling through my window must’ve stirred him. Letting him nap after ice cream on Friday had been a really bad idea. But his eyes were sleepy, and it probably wouldn’t take long to knock him out completely. I grabbed his little hand. “Do you need one more story?”
Theo nodded.
“Should we call Jamie and see if he wants to read one for you?”
There was a soft noise of protest from my closet, one I covered with a cough. Theo, though, perked up a little. “Can we?”
“Only if you hurry into bed.”
Quickly, Theo listened, hopping off back toward his bedroom. I lingered in my bedroom long enough to grab my phone from my desk, watching as my closet door peeked open. Jamie’s face was barely visible in the dark. “Daisy—”
“Make it a good one.” I gave Jamie an encouraging smile before disappearing into the hall.
The distance, though, was a good thing. If I’d stayed in my bedroom any longer, I was sure I’d have gone into cardiac arrest. Think about it later, I told myself, trying to settle so a calm energy would wash over Theo.
He was already waiting in his small twin bed when I got to his room, and I stretched out beside him on it, pulled my phone from my pocket and pressed call.
It rang once, and I could’ve sworn I could hear Jamie’s ringtone through the walls—I hadn’t thought that through—before he answered. “H-Hi.” His voice was a whisper.
“Hi, Jamie,” I murmured with a chuckle. “Theo wants a unique bedtime story. You got a good one for him?”
Jamie sighed, and the sound was clear as day—resignation. “Let me… think.”
I wondered if he’d look up a book online or something. I had a few books in my room, but not any that would’ve entertained Theo. I looked at my little brother, who stared at me with patient eyes. “He said he’s going to grab one.”
Theo grinned in the dim light.
I put the call on speakerphone and laid it on my chest, and the both of us waited for Jamie. “Theo, this might be for big boys only.”
“I’m a big boy,” he immediately retorted, almost sounding offended.
“I thought so. But you have to focus, okay? Close your eyes and try to picture what I’m reading. Got it?”
Theo nodded hard. “Got it.” And then he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Alright,” Jamie murmured, his tone lower now, softer around the edges. It was like he’d flipped a switch on his voice too, painting the scene as well as setting the mood. Calm. “This one’s called The Moon and the Little Planet.”