Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The next week blurs by between early morning swim, classes, homework, and babysitting Hunter. Texts fly back and forth with Mr. Pi and my still-without-a-nickname connection. One person I have barely heard from is Braden.
I’m trying not to freak out about it. Truly.
But can college be so busy that he can’t take the time to respond to my texts, or spare the time for ONE FaceTime during an entire week?
So far this week I’ve gotten a single text a day.
One. And the texts I do get aren’t even especially personal or informative.
In an effort to find out why he’s gone MIA, I do what any concerned girlfriend would do: a deep dive on his Instagram.
It’s the same account Braden has had for years, so there are a ton of pictures of us together at swim meets and at school over the years.
My thumb scrolls until I see one of my all-time favorites—it’s a picture of us on a Ferris wheel at a fair.
Our little carriage is stopped at the tippy top of the wheel and we’re kissing, the lights of the fairground twinkling in the background.
The air seems to shimmer around us. It’s magical.
Then—something I haven’t done in a while—I open the comments.
Jenna: You guys are disgustingly adorable.
Amanda: Cute!
Josh: *heart emoji* *kissy face emoji*
Jake: *vomit emoji*
Tricia: Is this your HS gf? She’s cute.
Hold on. Who the heck is Tricia? The date on the comment shows it was only made one week ago. Unfortunately, her profile is set to private so spying on her is impossible; her profile picture is too tiny to give me an idea of who she is or what she looks like.
Twenty minutes pass as I obsessively click on all of Braden’s other pictures and scour the comments for more evidence from Tricia.
There’s a few here and there about how something looked fun and about us being “adorable.” At the top of his feed, among the MIT pictures he’s already sent me, a few comments jump out that don’t make sense.
On the picture of his perfect dorm room:
Tricia: lolololol.
What's so funny?
I stare at the comment like it'll reveal its secrets if I glare hard enough.
Her other comments aren't dripping with intellectual depth, so I'm going to go ahead and assume she's not exactly MIT's brightest. Maybe she doesn’t even go there. Do smart STEM guys have groupies? Is it possible she’s a part of some roaming band of young women who glom onto promising future superstars like Braden, hoping to ride his coattails somehow?
Poor Braden—he's out there chasing his dreams and this girl is lurking in his comments like she has a claim on him.
I text Braden quickly to let him know how proud I am of him for achieving his dreams, then an alarm previously set on my phone rings. Time to get ready for Jenna’s birthday party!
Stand by Me by Ben E. King filters through the Corolla’s speakers as I hum along.
There’s so many cars parked in the Taylors’ driveway and in their cul-de-sac that I have to circle back to look again.
Annoyed, I flick the music off and lean forward like that will help me see better in the darkness.
Eventually, I give up and park around the corner, halfway down the next street.
Although I packed a duffle bag for sleeping over, I leave it in the car. My gut instinct is telling me there isn’t a sleepover in the cards for me tonight, especially if Jenna’s volleyball friends are staying over. Or maybe I’ll stay. We’ll see. Better to be prepared.
The car beeps locked behind me as I walk down the sidewalk, gift bags bumping my legs. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fumble the gift bags into one hand and fish the phone out with the other. A text from Braden!
Braden: Hey, baby. I’m going to be super busy this weekend, so I will have to miss our scheduled call. Miss you *heart emoji*
Is he for real? After blowing me off all week, this is the text he chooses to send?
I love Braden Patel with my whole heart, but he’s not pulling his weight in this long-distance relationship so far.
When he’s back for Christmas we are going to have to have a major heart-to-heart about keeping to our schedule. Maybe we should sign a contract.
I take a deep breath and do a little shoulder shimmy, shaking off the bad feelings Braden’s text caused. Tonight is about having fun, and that’s what I’m going to do.
I’m dressed to impress tonight—high heels, tight jeans, and an emerald wrap top complete my outfit.
Unlike my usual fresh-out-of-the-pool look, my hair is curled and left to cascade down my back, and I painted my lips a bold red.
Although I’m generally a comfort-over-pinched toes kinda girl, my confidence needs a boost.
On a whim, I take a selfie and text it to Braden. Does he deserve it? Nope. But Tricia has to stay in her place. Braden has a girlfriend and her name is Avery James. Plus, feeding into the negative vibes won’t fix anything. I need to stay positive.
The front door swings open to loud music and a wall of chatter and laughter.
The hallway funnels me toward the back of the house—and my jaw drops.
Bodies pack practically every inch of the living room and spill out into the backyard.
It’s not a surprise that Jenna went big for this party—she said as much—but it’s still a shock to see.
There’s boxes of pizza strewn over the kitchen counter and an assortment of drinks. I do the polite-smile thing while I weave through bodies, then set the gifts down and get myself a soda. The heat radiating from the packed house makes me add a heaping amount of ice to the drink.
A whistle sounds behind me. “Did you just come out of the oven? Cuz you’re hot.”
I turn around and see Dan Wheeler from the hockey team—my morning swim-class rehab project of the week.
He recently sustained a minor ankle sprain during hockey practice, so he’s an ideal candidate for joining the class during his recovery.
Dan is objectively cute—blonde hair, green eyes, freckles, tall.
He’s nothing compared to Braden though, of course.
“Does that line actually work for you?”
He gives me a dopey grin. “I’ve got more where that came from.” He leans in a little closer, and I’m almost positive I can smell alcohol on his breath. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Are you serious?”
His brows crush together in confusion. “Yes?”
“Wow, and here I thought we were becoming friends.”
Dan runs a hand through his golden hair while his smile wobbles uncertainly.
I can see the calculation running through his mind, trying to determine if he still has a chance to salvage this conversation.
I’d feel bad for him, but the fact that he doesn’t seem to recognize me at all is blowing my mind.
An arm folds around my shoulders and tugs me into a side hug. I look up and see Jake’s happy face, and he jerks his chin towards the gifts still sitting on the counter next to me. “Is one of those for me, Avery?” He pauses a second and glances at Dan. “Hey, Dan.”
Dan’s eyes light up with realization. “You’re the swim chick? Whoa. You look so different without that… hat? Thing you wear.”
“It’s a swim cap,” I state flatly.
He nods. “Right, right. Who even knew we had a pool in the basement at school? Craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Dan looks at both of us, like he’s shared a funny joke and expects us to laugh along. Jake simply pats him on the shoulder then turns his attention back to me.
After a quick, uncoordinated pass through his hair, Dan mutters, “Yeahhh, I’m going back outside.”
I sip my soda, watching him disappear through the open sliding door. Then I grab the gift bag and hand it to Jake. “Happy Birthday.”
Jake’s dimples pop and his blue eyes twinkle with delight. “Wow, a gift from Avery James. I can’t wait to see what you got me.”
My stomach clenches with a mini swoop of anxiety but I push it away. It’s definitely not the best gift I’ve ever given, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
Jake unwraps his arm from around me to take the bag, his infectious grin still present as he lifts the tissue paper to find the gift buried underneath. He pulls out the two items and looks at them, his smile wavering slightly.
“It’s… a pencil—”
“The highest rated mechanical pencil, according to The New York Times. And who doesn’t need another pencil?”
“—and a keychain.”
“—since you’re old enough to drive now! And it’s a hockey puck with your favorite team on it.”
Jake carefully places the gifts back in the bag and looks at me.
My internal insecurity about the gift is screaming at me, and I can’t help but ask, “Do you like it?”
He sets the bag on the counter behind him, out of the way. “How could I not? It’s from you.”
I pick up my soda and we step out the sliding door together.
Twinkle lights crisscross the trellis overhead, and someone has put colored covers on the underwater pool lights, giving the water a reddish glow.
I’ve always loved when they do that; it makes night swimming feel magical.
Unfortunately, no swimsuit for me tonight, which is a tad ironic given my daily swim routine.
We wander out to the patio and Jenna finally comes into view. She’s at a table surrounded by a swarm of volleyball girls and her arm is latched onto a tall guy next to her. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.
I tilt my chin towards Jenna’s table. “Who’s that guy with Jenna?”
Jake’s pleasant expression melts. “That’s my assistant coach, Steve.”
“No.” My mouth drops in shock. “They look… um, cozy?”
“Yeah, I know. I mean, he’s only nineteen, but he is technically on staff at school. It’s shady.”
“Do your parents know he’s here?”
“I doubt it.”