Chapter 6 Jacks
Jacks
I step out of the locker room ready to have a normal practice, when I notice a bunch of people off to the side of the rink.
Coach told us there was some sort of surprise at today’s practice, but I didn't expect a bunch of cameras and people to be sitting in the stands. I’m on the ice and doing some warm up laps when Grant comes up next to me.
He’s been a bit more moody than usual lately, and I think it has something to do with Hadleigh tutoring him.
He’s been passing his quizzes and shit, but his long-term goal is to pass the midterm, which he’s super nervous about.
He’s preparing for the worry he’s going to have when midterms come up, but I think something else got under his skin too.
Something else being in the form of black hair and skirts.
Grant and Hadleigh had some sort of awkward conversation at the house party the other night, and Grant practically declared war on the color pink after she left.
He said it was unrelated, but she was wearing a pink sweater, so she clearly has an effect on him. Even if he can't see it, I can.
He’s definitely on his way to being fully whipped for that girl, but he won't listen to me when I try to bring it up, so he’s going to have to figure that out on his own.
Or he’s trying to assume I don’t know him as well as he thinks I do.
I know what it looks like when Grant falls hard and fast for someone, and he’s already way past that with Hads.
“Are you done pouting or what?” I ask him.
“Dude, I’m not pouting. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, that’s all.”
Ah, deflection. “Yeah…right.” I decide not to press further because I don't know if I can handle a whole spiel about how everything he’s been doing lately has nothing to do with Hadleigh.
Coach calls us over and tells us that we’re going to be scrimmaging each other today to prepare for our upcoming game, and then he splits us all up. It’s the lower classman versus the upperclassman, and everything starts off fine, until I notice a flash of familiar blonde hair up in the stands.
I should’ve known that she was here in the sea of cameras, but that still doesn't stop me from thinking about her the entire practice. I try to show off a little, and some of it works and some of it doesn't, but at least I don't fall on my face again.
The upperclassmen end up winning, but it was a tight game. It was only 1-0 by the end, and Coach compliments us for all of our hard work so far. We end practice after doing some more cycling drills, sprints down the rink, and some short passing drills.
A few minutes later in the locker room, I hear shouting coming from a few lockers down. I notice Grant hasn't come back to where his shit resides, so I go check out what’s going on. Grant and Ryan seem to be having some weird staring contest right now, and before Ryan can say another word, I speak.
“You almost ready, G?”
Grant turns his head to mine. Fire is blazing from his eyes.
What happened before I got here? I open my mouth to tell him to hurry up, and he storms past me, throws his clothes on, and leaves.
I look back at Ryan, who’s sporting a huge grin on his face.
God, I hate this fucking kid. He’s such an asshole.
“You should quit while you're ahead, Barnes. If you made Grant mad, then you really fucked up. We need to be a team, asshole. Act like a good teammate, or I’ll get Holt to deal with whatever’s going on.”
Grant has a pretty big head start on me, and I hope he’s going back to our dorm to sulk, rather than somewhere else. I think he needs to talk some shit through or something, and I want to get a lay of the land before he completely shuts me out. He tends to do that when he’s too stressed.
As I make my way out of the locker room, I run straight into someone who seemed to be standing right by the door. I catch the person's wrist to prevent them from falling, and when I do, I feel a volt of electricity shoot into my hand.
And when I finally see whose wrist I’m holding, I’m surprised. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Claire.”
“It’s okay. It was my fault, anyway. I was standing right behind the door.
” She can't meet my eyes, and the room suddenly feels charged with some weird energy right now.
Was she waiting for me? No. There's no way. Maybe she’s waiting for Justin.
I know they're friends because of that one day in the dining hall.
I realize I haven't said anything in a long time, and now I feel awkward as fuck.
“Well, I should—”
“Would it be possible if—”
We speak at the same time, and the two of us start laughing as we do it.
“You first,” I say to her, and her cheeks flush. Damn, that was cute.
“Okay.” She fiddles with one of the rings on her finger as she looks over at me and takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I have a weird proposition for you. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
What the fuck? “Uhhh, sure? Do you wanna go to the café?”
“Yeah, if you have time, of course. I know you’re probably busy.”
I think she’s nervous because she keeps fiddling with different rings on her fingers.
What could she have to talk to me about that could make her this way?
I’m officially intrigued, but my mind is running through a thousand different scenarios right now, and none of them are helping me settle.
“My schedule is never too busy for you, Claire. Lead the way.”
Claire
As I sit down across from Jacks in a booth at the café, I realize how horrible of an idea this is.
Why did I think I could do this? This is something that would happen in a movie or a book, but why did I think I could pull this off in real life?
I feel like an absolute idiot. Here I am, about to tell a stranger about this dumb drunken plan that I hatched up, and even better, I’m dragging him into it with me—if he says yes.
I won't blame him for saying no because when I say this plan out loud, I’m probably going to recant everything and beg him to forget I ever said anything.
“So…what was your proposition?”
Oops. I may have zoned out, but when I meet his eyes again, he looks weirdly content being here—even though I asked him in the shadiest way possible. “Okay, uh. Bear with me, because I’m not sure how to say this.”
“That would require me knowing what this is, but no pressure or anything.” He jokes at me and I silently thank him for breaking some of the tension that I was feeling. He seems to be good at that—making me feel less on edge. I hope he doesn't think I’m crazy after this.
“I need a fake boyfriend.” Well, there's no going back now.
Jacks starts laughing and I immediately regret doing this. “I’m sorry. I thought you said you needed a fake boyfriend. Maybe I need to get my hearing checked.”
“That is what I said. I need a fake boyfriend, and I think you’d be perfect for it.” Jacks just stares at me for a few seconds and I swear I can see the wheels turning in his head. Is this too much? Have I gone too far? No. No, stay strong, Claire.
“Me? Perfect?” he questions and I nod at him. “Is there a reason you need a fake boyfriend? I thought you had a real boyfriend…”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I affirm.
“Oh. Okay…” He trails off again and I’m mentally slapping myself for how I’m going about this.
“I only need you to do it for a few months…” I trail off, unsure of what to say.
“Okay…but why do you need my help specifically?”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I meant to get to that part.” I chuckle a bit, suddenly feeling nervous at the fact that I’m about to trauma dump all over this guy that I’ve only talked to a handful of times.
I take a deep breath before speaking. “My ex-boyfriend, Clay, broke up with me a few weeks ago on our three-year anniversary.
I had all this stuff planned, but when he got to my dorm, he decided that he was no longer in love with me, or so he said.
Around two weeks later—a few days ago—I found out that he was seeing someone new.
While I was wondering what I did wrong, he was going out with someone new and acting like he was perfectly fine.
The worst part is that I catered my entire future around Clay.
We went to high school together, in Delaware, and he convinced me to follow him here for college so we didn't have to do long distance.” I pause my story and look over at Jacks.
His face is full of…something. I can't tell what, but he doesn't interrupt me as I keep talking.
“I agreed because he reassured me that everything was going to be fine.
He was excited to grow together in a new place, and create new moments together, which turns out to be a year and a half full of memories before he decided that he no longer loved me.
Granted, our relationship wasn't the best. When I look back at the past few months specifically, I feel like an idiot. The signs were all there. I was just too dumb to read them.”
“Claire, don't say that.” His tone catches me off guard.
“What?”
“You’re not dumb.”
“Maybe not dumb, but my rose-colored glasses were on. He gave so many signs, and I never read them. Now he’s moving on with someone new, perfect, and worthy of his love, and I’m stuck here wondering if I’m unlovable.
” I swear I hear Jacks mutter something under his breath, but when I look at him, his mouth is still down turned in a frown.
“I’m sorry that happened to you…but where do I fit into this?”
“Clay plays baseball here, and he loves the sport. It’s his passion, but I figured that if he gets to move on and flaunt it in front of me, I should be able to as well.
” I pause. “I’m too nice, way too nice. I tend to give people a thousand chances, even if they fuck me over more than once.
I’ve always been the nice girl, the one who tries to please everyone around me because I can't stand the thought of people being mad at me. Clay always used to make fun of me for it.”
“I never thought that could be a bad thing. Also, from what you’ve told me, Clay seems like a dick. I’m sorry to say this, but I’m glad he’s gone from your life. You deserve better.” He runs a hand through his hair and feigns a smile.
“Thanks. That’s sweet of you.” I pause, feeling my cheeks heat at the words Jacks just said. “Anyway, he plays baseball, but he hates hockey players, and the sport itself. He says it's too easy—which is hypocritical because he can't even skate—and that it shouldn't exist as a sport so—”
“Oh, I see where this is going.” He laughs. “You want to fake date me and make him jealous? You want him to feel what you did from him moving on so fast.”
“When you say it out loud like that, it sounds insane. I sound insane for even asking you to help me with this.”
“I don't think insane is the word I would use. It sounds like the plot of some sort of rom-com. Like Just Go With It…” I stare at him, dumbfounded that he just mentioned that movie. “It’s this movie where Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston pretend they're fake divorced so—”
“I know the movie. I’m surprised that you know it.”
“Claire, you better not be movie-shaming me.”
“I’m not! I just wasn't expecting you to mention it…or know the plot…” I start to laugh, and so does he. This conversation seems really light, as if we had been friends forever and are just talking over a late-night coffee. It’s weirdly easy being here and talking to him right now.
“I’m a big fan of rom-coms. My mom used to show me and my dad all of her favorites. I grew up watching them. Hence my advanced knowledge of them.”
That’s adorable. I feel like Jacks is the kind of person that will keep surprising me as I learn more about him. “I love that. I’m a big fan of Hallmark Christmas movies. The cheesier the better.”
“Well then, I think we’ve just discovered the first thing we have in common.” He smiles at me and my heart leaps in my chest.
“Does that mean you’re agreeing to help me?”
“Maybe. Can I have a day or two to think about it?”
“Of course. I did just bombard you with all this shit, so I’m sorry. Also, if it helps, I thought of this plan while drunk off my ass with my friends. Sober me is unfortunately not that interesting.”
“I don't know. I think she’s fun. You deserve some payback, anyway. Plus, what kind of name is Clay, anyway? He sounds like a dick.”
“He was okay…I guess. Every time I think back on things, my opinion changes. Most of the time, I end up pissed.” I fiddle with my rings as I say that. The two of us are quiet for a few moments, and the silence becomes deafening as neither of us speaks. “You know he almost killed me once?”
Jacks looks visibly dumbfounded. “What?!”
“He forgot I had a peanut allergy, and he almost killed me.” I laugh, thinking about it now because how was I so stupid? “That would've been the worst way to die. Death by dumbass boyfriend not remembering his own girlfriend's allergies.”
“Well, good riddance to him, then. Though you should probably stop telling me things about him, or I might explode. This guy seems like the worst.”
He kind of is the worst. I see that now. I think talking this out with someone outside of my friend group is helping because he’s confirming all the things I’ve been thinking, but too afraid to say out loud. Clay was the worst, and I do deserve better. I’m about to speak when Jacks beats me to it.
“Are you asking anybody else to be your fake boyfriend? Or was it just me?”
“I had a few other options but—”
He cuts me off. “Don't ask them. I still need a second to think about this, but don't ask anyone else. Okay?”
“Okay, I won't. Just let me know by the end of the week? And don't tell anyone about…you know, the whole fake thing,” I ask him, unsure if I was hearing jealousy in his voice or just imaging it. “Oh, and here’s my number so you can text me your decision.” I slide a piece of paper across the table and Jacks pockets it in his hockey hoodie.
“Sounds good.” He smiles. Jacks smiles fully with his teeth, while Clay used to just turn his lips up. He’s got a beautiful smile. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what?” I ask him, confused as to when he got up from the table.
“I’m walking you back to your place.”
“Jacks, it’s fine I—”
“Claire, we’re not even fake dating yet. Please don't fight me on this and let me walk you back. It’s dark out.” Even though I barely know Jacks, this seems like a fight I’m not going to win, so I concede and nod my head. “Good. Shall we?”
“We shall.”