Jacob
Even though it was cold enough to see your breath, the Applegate Farms ice cream window was jammed. Families waited with jumpy
kids, couples cuddled into each other, and packs of preteens raced around in the hay maze next to the parking lot, their screams
and shouts rising up toward the full moon.
First the conversation with Fitz. Then the dire news from Dutton. Then the awful practice and his ignominious spiral at the
soccer game. His fight with Rory in the school parking lot. His thirty-minute practice with the JV cheerleaders, which he’d
pulled off by promising to bring coffee and muffins to their early morning game tomorrow, and now this. Him and Rory. In line
for homemade ice cream. It was almost like a date.
Or it would have been, if her little brother wasn’t at her other side and the entire varsity cheer squad wasn’t waiting for them at the picnic tables.
They’d picked the two next to the giant plywood pumpkin that acted as a measuring stick for little kids.
His mom had photos of all of them standing next to it through the years, tracking their growth, both in height and number of siblings.
“Thanks for doing this,” he said to Rory for the tenth time.
“Owen’s ice cream is on you,” she told him. “And he always gets a Kitchen Sink Sundae.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Owen asked. “It’s five different flavors!”
“Solid reasoning,” Jacob said. “What if I get one, too, and we share? Then it’s ten different flavors!”
“Really!? Score!” Owen cheered.
“What’s your favorite, Graham?” Jacob asked, nudging her with his elbow, his hands in the pockets of his varsity jacket. “Don’t
say vanilla.”
“First of all, I don’t know why vanilla gets such a bad rap,” Rory replied. “It is the perfect base for any topping and the
only ice cream acceptable to put on top of pie.”
“Clearly you’ve never tried salted caramel crunch with apple pie,” Jacob shot back. “Game changer.”
Rory’s eyed widened. “Okay, that does sound pretty good. But don’t tell me you’d ever put chocolate or coffee or strawberry
on top of pie.”
“Strawberry on top of apple pie sounds good!” Owen put in.
“But not pumpkin. Or sweet potato.” Jacob stuck his tongue out slightly.
“Who even eats sweet potato pie?” Rory demanded, getting animated. “Vegetables should not go anywhere near a pie.”
“What about quiche?” Jacob asked.
Rory pulled a dubious face. “Oh, you’re a big quiche eater, are ya?” He laughed. “Besides, quiche is not pie. Quiche is quiche.”
“Our dad makes the best autumn veggie and Gruyère quiche.” Owen rubbed his hands together.
“You’ve got some sophisticated taste buds, kid,” Jacob said with a nod.
“We have one in the freezer,” Rory told him. “We can make it the next time you come over.”
Jacob blushed, pleased by the idea of being invited to Rory’s for a meal. “Cool,” he said. “But one question. What the heck
is gree-air?”
Rory and Owen cracked up laughing. They finally made it to the front of the line, placed their orders, and then joined the
rest of the squad at the tables. Rory had put out a 911 and everyone had rallied, getting to the farm even before Jacob had
driven her and Owen over in his truck. Gwen and Layla joined, too, after driving the JV team home.
“Think you have enough ice cream there, Reilly?” Layla asked, taking a sip of her root beer float as she eyed his sundae.
It wasn’t just five separate flavors—rocky road, Moose Tracks, java chip, strawberry cheesecake, and pumpkin spice—it was also caramel, hot fudge, whipped cream, and chocolate chips. He’d opted out of the cherry.
“It’s been a long day, Layla. A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.” He sat down next to Owen and pushed his vat of ice
cream toward the younger boy, giving him first dibs.
Rory slid into the seat next to Jacob, and her thigh pressed against his. He almost moved away out of habit, but when she
didn’t, he didn’t, either. It felt like every cell in his body had gathered in that one spot. All that separated his skin
from Rory’s were two layers of cotton.
She took a bite off her vanilla ice cream cone and gave him a sassy sort of look. He couldn’t help a laugh.
“Okay, Captain, what’s the deal?” Dahlia asked, crunching into her ice cream bar. “I was in the middle of an epic NBA 2K game when you texted, so this better be good.”
“Wait! Before we get to that, I need ten bucks from everyone,” Layla announced, tossing a baseball cap into the middle of
the table.
“What? Why?” Carlos asked.
“If the whole squad puts in ten bucks each, Stuart can buy homecoming tickets,” Gwen explained.
Jacob was about to offer up the tickets he won at the bake sale, but something held him back.
No, he did not have a date yet. But if he was being honest with himself, he was holding out hope that he would.
That some miracle would occur and he’d get the chance to take Rory.
And the fact that her leg was still pressed against his somehow indicated that this might actually be a possibility.
Maybe that made him a jerk, but at least it made him a hopeless romantic jerk.
If Ford could have heard his thoughts, Jacob would have never heard the end of it.
“There’s no way he’s going to accept charity,” Rory said.
“I’m going to tell him it’s a deposit for the basketball practice sessions he’s going to have with my brother come January,”
Layla replied. “Which he doesn’t know he’s doing yet. But he won’t say no.”
“You’re an evil genius,” Rory said.
“You’re not the first person who’s told me that, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” Layla shrugged and added, “Though it
did take me longer to come up with this plan than I care to admit.”
A few people went into their pockets and pulled out money to drop into the bowl. “I never carry cash,” Carlos said.
“I also accept transfers,” Layla told him.
Jacob yanked out his wallet and put in twenty.
“Okay, money bags,” Dahlia teased.
“I just got paid,” Jacob said with a shrug. “Plus, I’m told it’s my fault he doesn’t have tickets already, so.”
“Fair enough,” Layla said as she gathered up the bills. “So, Rory, explain why we’re here. Not that I don’t enjoy freezing
my butt off on a random Friday night.”
“Jacob needs to ace his math test on Wednesday or he’s off the team,” Rory said.
Carlos whistled as everyone turned to look at Jacob, who let out a surprised laugh.
“Wow, Graham, you could warn a guy.”
Carlos was shaking his head. “Don’t tell me. Mrs. Dutton’s class? She’s a beast, man. It’s like every question is a trick
question.”
“Thank you!” Jacob replied, relief washing through him. “Glad to hear it’s not just me.”
“It’s not just you. But I did get an A,” Carlos said, looking proud of himself. “I can help.”
“Me too,” Gwen said. “I love tutoring math.”
“Wait, you?” Jacob asked, dunking his spoon into the Moose Tracks scoop in his bowl.
“I’m in AP calc, and I’ve been voted favorite math tutor at A+ Mathematics for six months running, thank you very much.” Gwen
offered a humble little shrug. “Math is my thing.”
“She can work complex problems, but she can’t remember how to spell my last name,” Layla said dryly.
“Words don’t make sense,” Gwen countered earnestly. “Numbers do.”
“Great!” Rory said, clapping her hands once. “We have our tutoring team. Carlos and Gwen, come up with a schedule and let’s
get Jacob an A.”
“I’m free the next few nights,” Gwen said. “I can come over to your place whenever.”
“We can’t do it at my place,” Jacob said automatically.
“Why not?” Carlos asked.
“It’s just . . . not a good place to concentrate.” Jacob glanced at Rory. “Lots of siblings. Loud siblings.”
“Oh, I hear that,” Carlos said. “I can’t take a shower longer than two minutes without my sisters banging down the door.”
“My grandmother doesn’t like me to have people over during the week,” Gwen said, screwing her lips to one side. Gwen’s parents
were in the military and moved around a lot, so she’d lived with her grandmother since high school started to give her some
stability. That stability came at a cost, though: Her grandmother was even more strict than her army captain mom and drill
sergeant dad.
“You guys can come study at our house,” Rory offered, finishing her cone.
“Yeah?” Jacob asked. “You sure you don’t mind us invading your space?’
“Not at all,” Rory said. “I’ll even give you a key, if it means you stay on the squad.”
Jacob held her gaze for a long moment. There were about a million jokes he could have made about having a key to her house,
but he bit them down. Even so, he watched her face quickly turn pink and was pretty sure she was thinking at least some of
the same things.
“Thanks,” he said. “That would be great.”
“Let’s make a schedule!” Gwen said, getting out her phone. She and Carlos pulled up their calendars, and Jacob took another big bite of ice cream before getting up to join them on the other side of the table.
As he walked around, he looked at the squad, sitting and smiling easily together, Rory looking on proudly. And suddenly he
realized—Tucker would have never called a meeting like this for him. Yes, he missed being out of the field, juking defenders,
executing highlight reel–worth goals, but the guys on the soccer team would have just told him to get his shit together and
let him figure it out himself, then gone home to play Madden.
He sat and looked across at Rory, enjoying the view from this angle even as he missed the warmth of her shoulder next to his.
She smiled back at him.
Maybe he’d been on the wrong team all along.
“Hey, Jacob!” Owen said out of nowhere. He had whipped cream on the tip of his nose and chocolate sauce on his shirt. “You
never said what your favorite flavor is.”
Jacob held Rory’s gaze, and she lifted an eyebrow curiously.
He smiled. “I like vanilla.”
“Five! Six! Seven! Eight!”
Jacob and Carlos launched into the regionals routine in Rory’s backyard, the sun shining down and a stiff breeze tumbling leaves across their feet.
Concentrating as hard as he could, Jacob hit every count, though he could tell his arms were half a second off and his kick was still definitely not high enough.
It was a good thing the guys were in the back of the formation. Maybe no one would notice.
“And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight!” Rory counted for them, clapping along to the beat of her words as she
scrutinized their efforts. Her hair was pulled back at the sides with little pieces falling toward her face, which was his
second favorite of her usual styles, after the two-braid thing, which pretty much made his knees go weak. She was also wearing
an oversize sweatshirt and those short shorts that showed off her strong legs. How was he supposed to keep all these moves
straight when she was walking around looking like that?
Sine, cosine, tangent, function, five, six, seven, eight.
“Jacob! You’re supposed to be stepping right! Carlos steps left!”
Rory turned off the music and Jacob stopped, hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath. Carlos struck the same pose, facing
him, and Jacob could tell he was annoyed.
“Sorry, man. Sorry. It’s just . . . a lot.”
They had spent their entire Sunday alternating between practice problems and rehearsing the routine. At the start of the day,
Gwen had been there as well, and while they were munching on the breakfast sandwiches Rory’s dad had made, it had seemed like
a good plan. At least it had started out that way. Whenever his brain got stuck, they’d get in half an hour of exercise, and
then when they got tired of that, they’d go back to studying and his thoughts would be clear again. But at this point, both
his brain and his body were mush.
“It’s going to get dark soon anyway,” Rory said. “Maybe we should call it. Order a pizza and watch the Patriots game?”
Carlos checked his phone and took a swig from his water bottle. “I should get home. My aunts are coming over tonight, which
means lots of explaining why I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Jacob laughed. “Thanks for everything, man. I really appreciate this.”
Carlos slapped his hand and gave him a nod. “You’re doing great. Just keep it up and you’ll be ready.”
“For the test or for regionals?”
Jacob looked at Rory, who gave him a wry smile. “Let’s hope both,” she said.
Once Carlos drove off, Rory went back into the kitchen and Jacob followed. “What about you?” she asked. “What do you like
on your pizza?”
She pulled up an app on her phone and started scrolling through all the pizza places in the area. Jacob watched as she twirled
her hair with her free hand, leaning over the marble island. She really couldn’t have been more beautiful if she tried. And
he couldn’t believe she’d just spent the whole day with him without rolling her eyes once.
Of course, that might have been because he’d made a concerted effort not to crack any dumb jokes or act like a doofus.
“You don’t have to feed me on top of everything else,” he said. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You’re not in my hair,” she shot back. And then she did roll her eyes. Dang it. So close. “And I’m starving, and I hate eating alone.”
Jacob’s stomach rumbled audibly, and they both laughed. “I guess I am, too. But where’s your brother?”
“Oh, he went over to a friend’s house an hour ago to play D&D.” She waved a hand toward the direction of the front door. “He
won’t be back for hours.”
Jacob’s heart gave a little thunk. Alone in the house with Rory. What would Tucker think? How bad of an ass kicking was he in for if he found out?
“So? What’ll it be?” Rory asked, cocking one eyebrow.
Screw Tucker.
“Pepperoni and fresh tomato, but only if it’s from Nino’s,” he said. “Aside from the fact that I get Nino’s for free, Calucci’s
does the chunks and I like the slices.”
“Pizza snob, huh?” she said with a grin.
“A guy’s gotta have standards,” he shot back.
Rory nodded like she very much approved. “Nino’s it is.”