6. Cherry
“Hi, Mom.”
“Cherry Pie, oh, I’ve missed you. How are you? Are you eating properly?”
I smile to myself as I sink back against the pillows on my bed. “I’m good, Mom. I miss you too. How’s the salon?”
Closing my eyes, I let the sound of my mother’s voice, as she brings me up to date on everything happening at the salon she owns, drift over me like a warm hug. There’s nothing like the sound of her voice to settle me.
Ever since Jake rushed over here last week to tell me what happened with the student from his class, I’ve felt rattled, uneasy, unable to think about anything else. It’s not because of what he did, I’m not some pacifist, unwilling to throw a punch, it’s that he did it for me. No, it’s not that either, it’s how much I liked that he’d done it.
I’m not that girl, I’ve never been the girl, happy or accepting of someone claiming me like property, but with Jake, it feels different. He isn’t trying to own me so he can control me, it makes me feel protected and cherished and that scares the crap out of me because I don’t trust it .
“ Hey, Blossom, I need to talk to you.”
“I have to get to my shift. Can it wait?”
I’d been halfway out the door when Jake showed up at my dorm, looking gorgeous as always but also slightly sheepish. His entire demeanor had my stomach knotting in dread and my voice coming out warily when I responded. I was already in a pissy mood from spending my entire class on the Gothic Influence of Modern Architecture, listening to the four girls behind me going on about how hot Jake was and how they’d heard he was just dreamy between the sheets and could get a girl off multiple times. It had taken everything in me not to turn around and claw their eyes. Jake wasn’t mine but, increasingly, I was finding I wanted him to be.
“No, because I need to explain my side of things.”
“Okay, this sounds bad.”
I stepped back into my room and closed the door before putting some distance between us and folding my arms. I should have known Jake wouldn’t allow that, he was the most tactile person I knew, and he pulled me down onto my bed to sit next to him, holding my shoulders in his big hands so I had to look at him.
“I punched Brian Wills and broke his nose.”
“What?” I could hear the slight screech in my voice and winced, trying to tone down my reaction as he stroked the bare skin of my arms as if to try and soothe me. “Why the hell would you do that? You could get thrown out?”
His smirk almost made me want to slap it off his dumb, hot face.
“Blossom, nobody is throwing me out, believe me, and he had it coming. He challenged me and then made the fatal error of bad-mouthing you.”
“Don’t call me Blossom. I’m mad at you. You don’t need to defend me, Jake. Do you think it’s the first time someone has talked shit about me? Look at me!” I threw my hands in the air in frustration, knocking his hands from me. “I don’t fit in. I’m the freak with pink hair that looks like her mommy lost her.”
His expression turned thunderous at my words and a hum of energy shifted in the ro om as his jaw feathered and ground, his eyes closing before he opened them and pinned me in place with his gaze.
“Let’s get a few things straight, Blossom. Nobody, and I mean nobody, talks shit about you, not now and not ever. You are not a fucking freak, you’re damn near perfect and if small-minded assholes can’t handle that and choose to voice that ugly jealousy, then they’ll find themselves facing a fist to the face too.”
I shook my head and fought the urge to lean into him and accept his words. “Jake, you can’t hit every person who doesn’t like me. I’m kind of an asshole sometimes, and I rub people the wrong way. I don’t need your protection.”
“Tough shit, you have it anyway and I made it very clear to everyone who was in earshot that if they messed with you, they messed with me. You’re mine, Blossom. Even if you won’t admit you want me, we’re friends and I protect what means something to me.”
“That’s actually kinda sweet.” Jake ducked his head to catch my gaze a grin on his too handsome face. “ You’re still a dumbass for doing it. I’m not worth it.”
Jake pinched my chin between his thumb and finger and forced my head up. “Don’t let me hear you talking bad about yourself again. You’re worth that and so much more. I’ve never met anyone like you, Cherry Baker.”
“Yeah, well, if you’re lucky, you never will again.”
Jake bent so fast I had no time to back away before he nipped my lip and dropped a light kiss there before I could even respond. “I warned you, Blossom, no talking shit about my favorite person or I’ll punish you.”
My heart rate spiked, my nipples hardening as my body tingled at the swift assault on my senses. Jake smirked at my reaction before he stood and walked to the door.
“When is your friend coming back to school?” I’d heard a lot about Jake’s friend, Hunter, but hadn’t met him yet and perhaps Jake needed him back to distract him from me.
Jake frowned, his lips pursing. “Why do you ask? ”
“Because then maybe you can bother him instead of me.”
A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he shook his head. “I’ll always bother you, Blossom, and don’t get your hopes up. Hunter needed a second surgery on his leg, so he’s out for another three weeks.”
“ Well, damn. I guess I need to keep you entertained for another few weeks.”
“Just looking at you entertains me, Blossom.”
I shook my head, trying to hide my smile at how secretly pleased his words made me, and pushed him out the door. “Go, I need to get to work. And stop calling me Blossom.”
“Never.”
“Cherry pie, did you eat dinner?”
I sit up, shaking the thoughts and memories away as I focus on my mom’s voice. “Yes, Mom, I had a slice of pizza for lunch and I’ll grab some chicken noodles later.”
She tuts, and I brace for the lecture I know is coming.
“Cherry Baker, that isn’t food. You need fruit and veggies and protein or you’re going to get sick.”
“Fine, I’ll have noodles and some veggie sticks and hummus as a snack later.”
“Better, but try and lay off the junk. I don’t want you to get sick. I can’t bear the thought of you so far away and needing me.”
My heart constricts with love for my mom, and I hear the worried tone in her voice. “I promise, Mom. Have you seen Lexi?”
I haven’t heard from my friend as much as I’d like, and I miss her. I want to tell her about Jake and all the feelings I have around this weird friendship we have that feels so much more but for some reason, I haven’t. Our calls are always short because she’s in a hurry or I am.
“She came in for a trim last week.”
“How is she?”
“She seems…. Fine. ”
I sit up straighter, my instincts hearing more to my mom’s words. Fine is never good. “What aren’t you telling me, Mom?”
“Nothing, she just seemed in a rush to get back to that boyfriend of hers. I don’t like him, Cherry. He gives me a bad feeling in my stomach.”
My mom is the gentlest person I know, and she likes everyone, so for her to say she isn’t keen on Dean, Lexi’s boyfriend, says a lot.
“I know, Mom, me neither, but when I even broach the subject, she shuts down on me. She’s so into him.”
“Then don’t broach it, sweet girl, just be there for her, be her friend.”
A frown pulls at my brow as I fight my instincts to be submissive about any situation. “Wouldn’t a good friend be honest?”
“Sometimes yes, but sometimes part of being a good friend is being that soft place to land and for Lexi to know she has you, no matter what. If you criticize him and she isn’t ready to hear it, all it will do is cause her to push back or shut down, and then when she’s ready to talk, she won’t.”
I nod my head slowly, even though she can’t see me. “Smart or sneaky, I’m not sure which.”
“Both, sweetheart. You don’t raise a headstrong daughter without learning a few tricks.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, Cherry Pie.”
“Are you okay?” I know she won’t tell me if she isn’t but I need to ask anyway. Since we lost my dad a few years back, our relationship has changed. We were always close, but now there’s this sense of protectiveness I feel too. We’re a unit, we literally held each other together when he was taken so suddenly.
“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”
“You first.”
“Never, I’m your mom. It’s my job to worry.”
I know that’s our role in life but I can’t help but worry. She fell apart when dad died, she was a mess. They adored each other to the point they were nauseati ng sometimes. It always embarrassed the hell out of me to see them acting so sappy and romantic, but secretly I loved how much they loved each other. I wanted that for myself until the day he died. I realized in that moment that loving so hard is such a monumental risk, because at any time that love can be ripped away and leave you struggling to mend the broken pieces.
“Have you met any cute boys yet, sweetie?”
“Okay, time to go. I love you, Mom.”
I’m smiling as we hang up, but my thoughts linger on home. Harvard is my dream, but even living this dream, which is everything I’d hoped for and more, doesn’t stomp out the homesickness.
Grabbing my bag, I head out, knowing that staying here will only make that worse. I lift my head, closing my eyes for a second as I suck in a breath of the cool fall weather. I adore this time of year when all the colors of nature are so rich and vibrant. Marianna and I had spent the last Saturday shopping for cute fall clothes. She’d become a good friend, but I knew I was holding back with her a little, too. Not because of her but because I found it hard to trust and her sister made it harder, but I was here and loving Harvard. I still pinch myself every time I get to walk into the library at Harvard. I made it, I actually did it.
The smell of books is comforting as I find an empty space at one of the large tables and get my books out. The smooth wood under my fingertips holds so much history and I wonder what it would say if it could talk, what stories it holds within the grain.
I notice a few students watching me, but as soon as I try and catch their eye they look away. It doesn’t bother me, not really, I’ve always been that person, the one who is either loved or hated and I’m okay with that. I’m myself and if people don’t like that, then fuck them. But this doesn’t feel like that, it feels different as if they’re looking at me because of who I am to Jake Marshall.
His reputation around school, along with that of his friend Mac, is almost God-like. They’re revered or feared, sometimes both. I get it, in some ways. Jake has this aura, this presence that instantly commands a room when he steps into it. An energy about him that makes everyone sit up and take notice no matter their age or gender. I can imagine him in the courtroom, in a few years’ time, making the jury eat up every word he utters like it’s candy. He’s going to go places and do amazing things with his life, I know it. I just don’t know if I have a place there or if I even want one.
We’re friends, our connection over the last few weeks having a depth to it that I never expected when we first met, but simmering below it is the attraction I feel for him, and I know he feels it too. Jake could easily swallow me up if I let him and a part of me wants to let him. Yet he doesn’t act like he wants to consume me, he treats me with respect and kindness. He’s sweet and sexy, and sometimes, when I catch him staring at me, the look in his eyes makes my belly flip over with need.
He’s my friend but he could be so much more if I let him. I just don’t know if that’s the smart choice. But then smart isn’t living, and I promised myself I’d live every day like it could be my last without fear or doubt, at least I try, but that promise never included Harvard, and now the risks seem so much bigger.
Knowing I won’t figure this out today, I sigh as I get stuck into the task of researching monolithic structures, my brain falling down the rabbit hole of history. My eyes are gritty when I look up to find that dusk has fallen while I read and made notes. The library is almost empty, save for a few students on the far side, who seem to be having some kind of study session.
Raising my arms, I stretch my back, arching out the kinks from being hunched over. My phone vibrates on the table and I turn it over, my mouth spreading into a grin when I see Jake’s name on the screen.
Jake: I’m glad I brought my library card because I’m totally checking you out.
Laughter bursts from me, causing heads to lift towards me, but I’m too busy looking at the boy in the corner who’s grinning at me. He lifts his hand and crook s his finger at me and something about that movement that is so sure, so confident has me packing my books away and walking towards him. His eyes sweep a slow path over me before coming back to my face and I feel it everywhere.
“Hey, you.”
His voice is soft and deep and hits me between my thighs, making me want to hear him whisper something dirtier in my ear. “You stalking me, Jake?” I hold my bag in front of me as he reaches out and hooks his finger into the loop of my waistband, pulling me just enough for me to lose my balance and step closer, so I’m standing between his thick thighs.
“You got a problem with that, Cherry Blossom?”
I should have a problem with it, nothing about that comment should turn me on, but it does. “No.”
His gaze is so intense, the smile he gives me now having none of the sweetness I’m used to. Everything about it is predatory and I crave it.
“Good answer.”
“Yeah, why is that?”
His fingers are still hooked in my belt loop, and his thumb sweeps out and skims the skin of my hip beneath the pink sweater I’m wearing. Every nerve in my body sings at his touch. It’s innocent in the grand scheme of things but it feels like he’s stripped me down naked. The hungry look in his eyes only fueling the desire. We stay locked in this moment, his thumb on my hip, his gaze drinking me in like I’m the only oasis in a million-mile desert.
Then, as if a button is pushed, he grins and pushes to his feet, hooking an arm around me in an almost head lock. “Wanna watch a movie or grab a coffee?”
My brain takes a couple of beats to catch up with the sudden switch in him before I nod. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh from holding my breath. “Sure, dealer’s choice. I’m easy.”
Jake lets his gaze trail over me, lingering on my hip for a second as if he can feel the phant om touch still, too. “You’re anything but easy, Cherry Blossom.”
Holding out his hand, he ushers me out of the library, then takes my bag from me, despite my assurances that I can carry it.
“I know you can, but why should you when I can carry it for you?”
“You know feminists will be crying right now.”
“It’s not anti-feminist to let me carry your bag for you, it’s just good manners.”
“Well, it feels wrong.”
Jake wraps an arm around me, pulling into his side. “That’s because you’ve never been treated properly by a man.”
“My dad would have loved you. He was just like this with my mom. If she even tried to carry the groceries, he’d lose his mind. I used to think it was silly but now I miss seeing it.”
We walk side by side in silence for a bit before he speaks again. “Tell me about him?”
I don’t talk about my dad often, not to Lexi or anyone really. Not because I don’t want to but because it hurts, and I don’t want to drag anyone down with my grief or my guilt. Yet as we walk past the historic buildings, Jake gives me the space to decide if I want to answer or not.
“He was old-fashioned, some would say. He believed a man should work and provide for his family. He loved his bikes and would spend hours on the weekend tinkering with old bikes. Yet when my mom gave him a look, he’d pack it away and give her all of his attention. He helped me learn to ride a bike. He showed me how to make pancakes on Mother’s Day and, more importantly, he taught me what it was to be loved unconditionally.”
“You miss him.”
“Every single day. He was my hero, and my biggest cheerleader.”
“He sounds like an amazing man.”
“He was, and do you know the worst thing, Jake?”
He stops us outside my dorm building and turns me to face him, tipping my chin up to lo ok at him. I could drown in his eyes, so many flecks of color that it’s hard to know sometimes if they are green or blue.
“Tell me.”
I look away, knowing I’ll see judgment in his gaze when I admit this next part. “I never cried when he died. I didn’t shed a tear and I still haven’t.” What kind of daughter does that make me that I can’t cry over the loss of the man who gave me life?
Jake’s palm cups my cheek and I close my eyes not wanting to see the disgust, instead letting the callouses on his hands scrape against my skin.
“Tears don’t mean you loved him and no tears don’t mean you didn’t. Emotion, especially grief, is complex and just because you don’t wear it like a shield for the world to see, doesn’t mean a fucking thing. You loved him, Cherry, anyone who hears you speak about him knows it and he knew it too.”
My eyes open and all I see in his gaze is sincerity as he holds me captive. “You don’t think I’m broken?”
His thumb sweeps over my cheek, in a soft caress and I fight the desire to lean into him.
“I think we’re all a little broken, Cherry Blossom, but do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”
I nod, my lips parting as I try and suck in enough oxygen.
“I see a beautiful girl who fights for those she loves, who’s strong and fierce and brave. Who’s smarter than even she knows but is afraid to trust in case she gets her heart broken. I don’t know if it’s losing your dad or something else, but I do know you’re special, and you’ll succeed because you’re brilliant and you’re a survivor.”
I drop my head into his chest, my fingers clutching at his shirt. Jake makes me feel things that frighten me, but he also sees me. Not the mask I wear for the world, but me, inside where a little girl still wakes, calling for her father and knowing he will never be there to hug her again.
It’s too much, my chest feels like it will explode and I want to admit to him how right h e is, to tell him how broken I feel, how afraid but being that open is a risk. What if I show him who I am, let him see my fragile heart, and he leaves or dies, or takes my heart and breaks it? I’m not sure I could survive another loss like that, so I fall back on coping strategies of old.
“Did you just call me a cockroach, Jake Marshall?”
His arms come around me and I feel his laughter against my cheek, before I lift my head and step away, forcing him to let me go.
“Only you would turn a sweet moment into a perceived insult, Blossom.”
I shrug as we walk up the stairs to my dorm room. “Sweet rots your teeth.”
“I’ll win, you know.”
I throw my bag on my bed as Jake slumps across my bed like he’s done the few times we’ve spent time here already. Nothing has happened between us that is overtly sexual, not even a kiss. He’s respected my friendship boundaries with grace, but now I wonder if he’s been breaking my defenses one brick at a time. Little familiar touches of his hand on mine, his fingers kneading the knots in my neck after a long day. All of it lowering my defenses against him as he wages war on my reasons for keeping him at a distance.
“Win what?”
“Your trust. One day you’ll see that I have no intention of hurting you. Not now, not ever.”
My breath hitches in my chest at his words, spoken softly and with so much certainty. “Nobody intends to hurt someone, Jake. It just happens.”
His fingers skim my cheek with the whisper of touch and I feel my heart stutter, wanting him to kiss me and yet afraid that if he does I’ll give up my heart without any more fight.
“I won’t hurt you, Cherry. You can trust me on that.”
“Choose a movie, Jake.”
I can’t answer him because I want so badly to believe he means it, but then my dad promised he’d always be here, and he’s gone. Every boy I’ve ever liked in school, every friend I’ve shown my true self to, except Lexi, has gotten bored with my abrasive attitude and proved me right. Why would a boy like Jake Marshall be any different? He could have anyone, why would he stick around for me?
The rest of the night we spend arguing the merits of action movies versus chick flicks and perversely, he’s the one arguing for the chick flick.
“Seriously, it’s like the men’s guide to what a woman wants. Why would men not watch them?”
I shove more pizza in my mouth and mentally say sorry to my mother. “So you’re saying it’s more of a how-to guide for men?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, if you want to deep dive into this then you should really be reading the books women read.”
Jake frowns as he folds his slice of pizza in half and hangs it over his mouth to catch the melting cheese. He chews, his brows pulling in as he nods. “Why?”
“Because they’ll give you the biggest insight of all. Most movies are written, directed, and produced by men, but books, especially Indie authors, are written by women for women. So they sell the universal fantasies that all women want. Even the dark ones we don’t want to admit to.”
“And you read these?”
“Of course.”
“Can I read one?”
I pop my eyelids wide. “You want to read one of my dark romance books?”
“Dark romance, what is that?”
I can feel my cheeks heat as I try and find the words to explain dark romance to him. “Well, the MMC in the book is usually a walking red flag, like a stalker, or a bad boy, or someone the FMC should not be attracted to, like in a bully romance.”
“MMC, FMC, and bully romance. What the hell is that?”
Crossing my legs, I study him as he lounges back on my pillows waiting for my answer. H e takes up most of my bed with his broad muscular shoulders and long, thick legs. My gaze rakes over him in sweatpants and a white tee and I can see his hard length, outlined by the fabric, and he is big, bigger than any I’ve had before and my mouth waters at the thought of him. He has it all, looks, attitude, and he treats me like I matter. He could definitely be a hero in a book.
“You’re staring, Blossom, and I suggest you stop before I say to hell with all my good intentions and take you on this bed and make you come with my name screaming from your lips.”
Fuck. Me. That visual has my panties soaked, my body screaming at me to let him, but my head wins out, and I look away with a laugh. “Okay, an MMC is a male main character, and FMC is a female main character, so that’s all pretty simple.”
“And bully romance?”
“That’s where she falls for her bully, or in some scenarios, bullies.”
“And you want that? You want a man who treats you like that?”
I can tell he’s confused by the stunned look on his face. I laugh and shake my head. “No, but it’s a fantasy and a safe way to live it. I’d never entertain it in real life, but in a book, the MMC is so obsessed with her, that he only sees her. He craves her, would kill for her, die for her, and break any rule to have her. A lot of girls crave that undivided attention but we aren’t dumb enough not to know it’s unhealthy in real life. Books allow it to be safe.”
“So how would reading it help me understand what a woman wants?”
“Because if you break it down into the basic fantasy, you can see it. So, for example, a stalker trope is the fantasy of having someone so in love with you that they will do anything to have you. With a bad boy, it’s about him hating everyone and being deadly to all but with her, and only her, he shows his soft side.”
“Okay, I think I get it. It’s about being his whole world.”
“Exactly. Every girl wants to feel like they are cherished, but they don’t want a doormat either. At least that’s how I interpret it. ”
Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Women are fucking complicated.”
“Yes, we are, so maybe don’t try and understand us because, honestly, I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“That feels like a challenge, Blossom.”
“No, just a fact.”
“Wanna hear another fact?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
“I’m going to take every fantasy you’ve ever read and blow them out of the water. That’s a fact you can take to the bank.”
My breath is trapped in my lungs at his words and I have to fight the desire to throw myself across the bed at him, especially when he looks at me with such heat in his stare.
“Good, I have you speechless, so why don’t you give me the name of your favorite books so I can expose these book men as frauds and show you what the real thing can do?”
“Book boyfriends,” I squeak.
“What?” Jake frowns as he lies back on my bed with his phone in his hand, ready to start downloading books.
“They’re called book boyfriends, not book men.”
His gaze holds me captive, and I have the strongest urge to crawl to him and demand he follows through on the promise his body is making but I stop when he growls.
“Cherry Blossom, the only boyfriend you’re gonna have is me, so get used to it, because I’m running out of patience waiting.”
With that, he goes back to his phone, and I’m left wondering if perhaps he’s every book boyfriend I ever had rolled into a real man. It’s time for a little distance. Maybe going home for the holidays is exactly what I need to combat my homesickness and give me some space to think about whether I can keep seeing Jake as a friend.