Chapter Two #2
Tyler is going to dinner with his grandparents. Want to hang out earlier? Maybe watch the Reds play? I can come to you?
The thought of watching the Reds play with Jules seems to shake some of the tiredness that continues to cling to me.
The highlight of last night was spending time with her.
I missed the way she laughs and the way she uses touch to convey her affection and how she smells like something pretty and floral.
I missed the way she holds eye contact and sneezes in threes and plays with her necklace when she’s nervous.
I missed her.
Want pizza? I text back.
Obviously.
I smirk and adjust the order to include a small margherita. “Get decent, Mason, Jules is coming over,” I yell and toss my phone on my bed. Tyler’s loss is my gain.
The Reds lose, but it’s fine because watching them lose with Jules makes it a little less crappy.
And once we’ve demolished our pizzas, we lie on our stomachs on my bed with my laptop between us.
Her feet nudge mine as she kicks them back and forth, and I kick her back in an aggressive game of footsie.
The whole thing is familiar. Like there wasn’t a twelve-month pause in our routine.
After going through a bunch of pictures of Europe on my phone and insisting for probably the billionth time that, no, my friends in France didn’t replace her as my favorite, we decide to watch something mindless.
We forgo a movie in exchange for some cheesy teenage series that Jules sheepishly admits wanting to see.
I’m fine watching whatever, but I can’t help but think that all these high school shows are the same.
Some douchebag jock manages to fall for the less popular but way more interesting nerdy type girl.
And for whatever reason, she likes him back.
So of course, by the end of season one, they finally manage to overcome some social obstacle and end up together.
I make a disgusted sound as he shoves his tongue down her throat after miraculously winning the homecoming football game in the middle of a torrential downpour in a stunning come-from-behind victory. Like winning the game makes up for all the other crappy shit he did to her.
Jules must have the same disdain because she makes a similar sound of distaste. “Ew, why? He was such a jerk.”
“A total tool,” I agree.
“But still,” she says wistfully when he asks her to dance right there on the fifty yardline postgame, “there’s just something about kissing and dancing in the rain that’s so unbelievably romantic.”
I scrunch my nose. All I see is a sweaty, soaking wet dickwad, who probably smells like a wet dog, trying to swallow a cute girl’s face. “You think that’s romantic?”
She tilts her head to the side as if examining the scene. “I mean…kinda? Not the mud and sweat, but you know, the sentiment.”
I give her a look. “Did Taylor Swift tell you it was romantic?”
She bursts into laughter. “Maybe.” A buzz from her phone snags her attention. I can tell it’s from Tyler by the goofy expression on her face.
“Is Tyler romantic?” The question spills out before I can stop it.
She and Tyler started dating right before the summer I left.
She had been crushing on him most of junior year when he finally managed the courage to ask her out a couple weeks before school let out.
He isn’t like her past boyfriends, ones who were fine but didn’t treat her the way she deserved.
No, Tyler actually puts in the effort. Goes out of his way for her and makes her happy.
It’s cute, if not a little nauseating. Seems like not much has changed.
Including the little bit of jealously that never seems to go away.
Jules shrugs while she responds to his text, then tosses her phone back beside her. “He tries to be.”
“But he’s not good at it?” I think back to the picture she sent me of him holding up a poster after one of his baseball games that asked her to prom. It’s not a gesture I would’ve found appealing, but Jules seemed pretty taken by it.
Her brow creases into a series of cute little lines, and she takes a moment to think. “It’s more stereotypical romance. Roses before a date. Pulling out my chair when we go out to eat. Chocolates on Valentine’s Day.”
Now I’m just confused. “Those things aren’t romantic?”
“Oh, they are. Don’t get me wrong, it’s super sweet, and I appreciate all that he does.
He’s very thoughtful. But it’s not…” I can see her struggle to explain.
She pushes the laptop away and sits up. I roll over on my back so I’m looking up at her, smiling at the way she frowns.
“It’s generic, like turning on the radio instead of putting on a curated playlist. Or giving me caramel chocolate instead of nougat. ”
I think of her eating the top off a Snickers bar to save the bottom half for last. “You do love your nougat.”
Her eyes grow comically wide. “It’s so good, and I don’t know why.
” We both laugh. “I don’t know.” Her smile fades a bit, and she sighs.
“It’s like, there’s no real imagination behind it.
” She groans and collapses beside me. “Now I just sound like an asshole. He really is so sweet, and I’m over here acting like it isn’t enough. ”
I pull her in, and she puts her head on my shoulder. “You’re not an asshole.” She makes a sound like she disagrees, and I run my hand through her hair. “He can be sweet and nice and still not know how to make a playlist.”
When she chuckles, I feel victorious. “He loves me. But sometimes, I’m not sure he really gets me. Does that make sense?”
I squeeze her tighter, not really knowing what to say to that.
Tyler seems great, at least from what I know about him and the short time we’ve known each other.
There’s no doubt he cares about her; he’s shown up time and time again to prove it.
But Jules deserves the curated playlists, all the chocolate-covered nougat, and dancing in the rain.
She deserves everything.
“I get it,” I tell her quietly. He’s roses when he should be peonies.