Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Footsteps pound down the hallway as I fly to the front door.
Before opening it, I tug my shirt down to smooth any wrinkles and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.
I twist the knob, and the door cracks open with a soft hiss, letting in a breath of crisp air that smells like leaves.
Infectious dimples and bright blue eyes greet me.
“Hey, Jake.”
His eyes travel over my face and head. “Nice hair. Is this practice for Halloween or something?”
A hand goes to my braided crown before I can stop it. What in the world does that mean? He doesn’t think it looks good? A flush of embarrassment rises, but I ignore it. I’m the older one here. Why should I be embarrassed? It’s only a study session.
Clearing my throat, I step aside to let him in. “Are you jealous that my braiding skills have now surpassed your own?”
Jake chuckles. “Maybe I am. I wouldn’t mind practicing on your hair again, though I’m not sure how you managed to have it wrap around your head like that. I’d be totally lost.”
We’re still in the foyer, and his height hits me all at once. He’s so tall now! I’ve noticed that before, of course, but it feels different because this is the first time he’s been to my house in forever.
He’s looking down at me with affection, and he lifts a hand to run it lightly over my styled hair. He's just curious about the braid. That's all.
“It reminds me of Princess Leia. I thought maybe that’s who you were going to be for Halloween.”
Jake’s comment kicks up a memory of little Jake, fresh off a Star Wars trivia book, rattling off fact after fact about the franchise until it drove me crazy. Annoying or not, Princess Leia is amazing, so his reference is definitely a compliment.
“Still a Star Wars super fan?”
Now it’s Jake’s turn to blush. “Hey, I stopped quoting trivia at you when you asked me to. You know, when you yelled at me.”
“You weren’t going to stop.” A beat. “I haven’t thought about a costume this year, which I know is unlike me. I usually coordinate with Braden, but he’s not here.”
Jake’s expression drops. “Ah, right. How’s Braden doing these days?”
I open my mouth to answer, then freeze. My relationship with Braden has put me in a difficult spot.
I don’t want to lie and say everything is amazing, but the truth sounds unnecessarily dire too.
The truth is I don’t know much about Braden’s life lately—not the real details.
I get a few scraps of him a couple times a week, if I’m lucky.
We haven’t talked on the phone in over a week, and even when I catch him, the call ends fast because of class, a meeting, or somewhere he has to be.
Explaining all of that feels like too much, and besides, it’s temporary.
Christmas is coming, and he’ll be home. He’ll have time to slow down because school will be over for the semester.
We’ll drink hot cocoa and exchange gifts—it’ll be perfect.
My mom walks into view, saving me from having to conjure an answer to what should have been an easy question.
“Hi, Jake,” she says with a genuine smile, though her eyes look tired. Maybe even a little puffy. “Are you excited for the hockey season to start soon?”
“Hey, Mrs. James. And yes, very excited. The schedule can be intense, but I love it.”
“That’s great.” She glances between Jake and me. When Jake takes a moment to look at his phone, she looks at me and winks. Winks! “Anyway, I’ll let you guys get busy with that homework. I just wanted to say hi.”
“Good to see you, Mrs. James.”
She pads out of the room, and I grab Jake’s arm to drag him up the stairs. Mom clearly thinks there’s more to this than studying, but she’s getting ideas and I need to shut them down STAT. Braden is my everything. We’re simply in the middle of an adjustment.
We make our way down the hall, and Jake slides his backpack off his shoulder, placing it on the carpet near my desk once we reach my room.
After grabbing my calculus book, some paper, and a pencil, I plop onto my bed and start flipping through the pages.
Jake’s still by my desk when I look up, bent over my vision board with a picture in one hand.
He seems engrossed by whatever he’s looking at.
Wow, Jake Taylor is in my room. It’s… strange.
Braden’s been in here a thousand times, but I can’t remember the last time Jake was at my house, let alone in my room.
Probably not since a game of hide-and-seek during a playdate with Jenna.
Why is it weird? Am I making it weird? Not that it matters—we’re doing homework, like I would with any classmate.
“Jake, we should get started,” I prompt, finally finding the right page and sitting up straight with purpose. My pencil taps against my book impatiently.
But he’s still not turning around or getting his stuff out of his backpack. “Why do you want to go to MIT?” he asks.
Because that’s my dream? It's a strange question. No one's ever asked me that before—not even myself. I never had to think about it because it was something Braden and I discussed constantly. The image of the two of us bundled in winter coats walking around on a snow-covered campus was burned into my brain after our obsessive planning. On top of that, it’s literally in the middle of the vision board with giant, glittery stars all around it. It’s still what I want, even if Braden isn’t here to remind me every day.
“I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s what Braden and I have dreamed of for years.”
Jake nods slowly as he pins the picture—one of Braden and me—back in place on the board. He finally grabs his schoolwork from his backpack and pulls my desk chair over towards my mattress so he’s closer to me.
“Alright, Leia, let’s do this.”
For the next hour we go through problem after problem.
Somehow everything makes sense to me when Jake explains it.
He’s patient and really knowledgeable. In a way, he reminds me of Braden, except Jake also makes calculus seem fun.
Eventually he ends up on the bed with me, our shoulders touching as we hunch over our work.
Jake’s left-handed and I’m right-handed, so we laugh a few times when our arms bump against each other.
Everything seems to flow easily and my earlier awkwardness seems silly, until there’s a lull in our work.
He looks me right in the eyes while our heads are literally inches apart.
My breath catches and my throat closes. It feels…
charged, in a way it shouldn’t. If he wasn’t Jake Taylor, my best friend’s little brother, I would swear that he wants to kiss me right now.
But he is little Jakey Jake and that thought is absolutely absurd.
His eyes flick down to my mouth. So what do I do? I look at his mouth, which is dumb. So dumb. Because now that I’m looking I can see that Jake Taylor actually has super kissable lips. Objectively—as a neutral observation. It’s ok to notice things about people.
“Avery,” he says softly.
“Snacks!” I say loudly, leaning back. “Snacks. I left our snacks downstairs! Silly me.” A cringey, awkward laugh fills the air as I struggle to toss my book aside and get myself off the mattress.
In my rush to create distance, I end up plummeting off the bed and straight onto the floor, landing hard on my side.
The wind is knocked out of me, so I lie there, staring at the ceiling and questioning all the choices that led me to this moment.
Ah, yes—a better grade in calculus. And maintaining physical boundaries while my boyfriend is across the country.
Maybe there’s someone else I can study with to make this easier?
Jake’s head pops over the side of the bed to look down at me. “Was it the calculus or my charm that knocked you over?” He reaches out a hand to help pull me up.
“I just got excited about snacks. That’s all. Doesn’t everyone get excited about snacks? I left them on the kitchen counter.”
I dismiss his hand and heft myself up on my own. As I start to walk towards the door, Jake’s voice stops me.
“I’ll go get them. Your excitement might send you hurtling down the stairs.” He flashes me a dimply smirk and leaves the room.
The heat of a fresh blush crawls over my skin. What is wrong with me?
My tablet lights up on my desk with a message seconds later. It’s Mr. Pi. Although we’ve texted on and off the past couple weeks (mostly about food and school), I haven’t heard from him in a couple days.
31415: Hey there. Whatcha doin?
80085 [Me]: Breathing.
Not a lie. I’m still struggling to control the flush I got from that embarrassing spectacle by doing deep breathing exercises. I need to have it under control before Jake comes back.
31415: Me too! We have a lot in common. This reaffirms what I already knew.
80085 [Me]: And what’s that?
31415: That we’re meant to be best friends. That we’re destined to stand the test of time.
31415: That’s what this app is for, right?
I can’t help but chuckle. He’s ridiculous!
80085 [Me]: Dramatic much?
31415: Or maybe realistic and accurate?
80085 [Me]: Or maybe hopeful and delusional? I highly doubt *being alive* has a strong bearing on friendship compatibility. Or else wouldn’t everyone be friends?
31415: Au contraire. Pretty sure I read a white paper that proved a strong correlation between breathing and friendship longevity. Plus other factors, but those aren’t important. But don’t google it—it’s hard to find, behind a paywall and all that.
My cheeks hurt from how hard I’m smiling now.
80085 [Me]: Ok. But what about if, for example, movie preferences strongly clashed, despite both people being capable of breathing. Like to the point where they could never find a movie to watch together. Does that negate the compatibility?
31415: No. As a matter of fact, that same white paper cited ANOTHER white paper on how breathing habits are inextricably linked to specific movie preferences. Details about this link are not important. So you see, they go hand-in-hand and cannot negate one another.
80085 [Me]: Fascinating. And nonsense.
31415: Indeed. So, out of curiosity and totally not related to this conversation, what is your *favorite* movie?
At this point I’m laughing out loud.
80085 [Me]: Depends on the situation. If I’m ragey, I prefer something with action like The Matrix. If I’m sad or need a pick-me-up, a romcom like Sweet Home Alabama. Either way, if I’m watching a movie, popcorn is a must. Shocking, I know.
31415: Ah. Clearly I’m dealing with a movie + snack connoisseur. Tell me, have you ever tried combining popcorn with chocolate?
80085 [Me]: No?
31415: One of these days we are going to have to get together and perform some popcorn research together. Strictly professional, of course. Perhaps for our own white paper.
The thought of popcorn makes my stomach rumble—Jake better bring that plate back soon. Since I’m in the Connection Services app, I quickly check for messages from my other connection.
55378 (?): Did you hear about the fight in the hallway today? I knew this beta test was going to be a disaster.
80085 [Me]: I actually saw it! It’s like everyone heard “anonymous” and assumed it meant “consequence-free”…
55378 (?): Rule #1 should be ‘don’t exchange names’ if you want to avoid drama.
80085 [Me]: Definitely. If only people would listen to us reasonable people…
Jake’s steps sound in the hallway, his broad frame entering my room seconds later with the plate in hand and water bottles tucked under his arm.
I quickly place my tablet back on my desk, but I must still be smiling like a crazy person because he clocks it immediately.
Jake grins at me. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh,” I say as I wave my hand dismissively at my desk, “just chatting with someone.”
Jake moves into the room and places the plate at the end of my bed. He perches on the side with a mischievous look on his face. “Oh? Someone you… like?”
That wipes the residual amusement off my face. “What do you mean ‘like’? Like like? I’m with Braden! It’s only a friend. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Jake shrugs. “Things change sometimes. Even when you don’t want them to.”
“Braden and I won’t ever change,” I insist stubbornly. “We have a plan in place to prevent that very thing from happening.” My hand sweeps subconsciously towards the vision board.
Jake's eyes follow my hand’s movement thoughtfully. “And has Braden stuck to the plan since he’s been gone?”
Although I’m sure he doesn’t mean it that way, the question feels like a stab to my gut because the answer is… no. Braden has not stuck with the plan. At all. I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes but swallow them down forcefully.
“There’s been a few bumps here and there, but that’s to be expected when things are long distance and he’s in college. Plus, there’s a time difference.”
Jake nods slowly like he’s listening but thoroughly unconvinced by my arguments.
Honestly, I’m not either. The hollowness rings loud and clear.
But this is Braden, my soulmate. The boy who grew up in the house behind mine, who gave me my first kiss, who promised me forever, who told me he loved me.
Our plan was ironclad, foolproof, practically signed in blood.
But… does Braden feel the same way? That thought keeps circling, relentless.
I'm irked by the fact that Jake isn't buying my explanations. A small, logical voice somewhere in my psyche suggests that’s not fair, but my emotions are winning.
“And anyway, why do I need to tell you about any of this? It’s not your business, Jake Taylor.”
He grabs two crackers and sandwiches a slice of cheese between them, then hands it to me.
My heart softens. I remember having conversations with Jake years ago about the perfect cheese to cracker ratio during a sleepover at their house, and he clearly remembers my stance on the topic.
A vivid memory surfaces: tiny Jake, with a shy dimply smile, handing me a cracker sandwich with a stack of cheese inside.
Here you go, Avery. I’d looked at the offering and corrected him.
Jake, no one wants that much cheese! The cheese is a garnish.
The main event is the salty cracker. He’d dutifully emptied it until only one piece remained.
“You’re right. It’s not my business. But I think you deserve the very best of everything.”
He says it so softly, but with conviction. Suddenly, it all feels like too much—talking about Braden, defending my choices, having Jake look at me like he cares more than my best friend’s little brother should.
“I think we got enough done today, don’t you think? So yeah, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Jake.”
He looks at me for a moment, then nods once, accepting my dismissal. He gives me a small smile. “See you tomorrow, Leia.”