Chapter Thirty-Two
Flipping through my TV, even when there is nothing on, is when I know I’ve reached the peak of boredom.
It’s almost midnight, and my brain hasn’t slowed enough over the past day for me to even attempt to sleep.
Last night, Jameson kissed me at the end of the semester party, and then earlier today, he kissed me again in the hallway of the Callaghan house. Over the twenty-four hours, my thoughts have circulated around one thing.
Jameson Beaumont.
I switch my TV from cable to Netflix, going straight for Gilmore Girls.
Sometimes the only shows worth watching are ones that you’ve already seen a hundred times.
My phone rings right when I click on the title of ‘You Jump, I Jump, Jack.’
My first instinct is to hit the power button on my phone and let it ring out, assuming the call is coming from someone I don’t want to talk to.But when I pick it up to do just that, the name Devil Incarnate is on the screen.
Now, that piques my interest. I hit pause on my remote before accepting the call.
“Hello?” I answer, leaning back against my headboard.
“Hey.” Jameson’s voice cuts through the line. Maybe I need to change his contact name. “Are you busy?”
“Well, it’s nearing midnight and I’m lying in bed, so I would have to say no.”
“Were you sleeping?”
“No.” I look toward my TV. “I was trying to watch Gilmore Girls.”
“Trying?” He asks.
“You interrupted,” I reply quietly.
“I have a sneaking suspicion you only answered because you wanted to.” He would be correct.
“You’ve never called me before; I thought something might be wrong.” I try to sound like I’m telling the truth, yet all I hear on the other line is Jameson’s skeptical hum. “So, is there a reason you called?”
“I thought it might be nice for us to talk.” I hate how nonchalant he is—how easy casual conversations are for him. I’m sure he’s not second guessing anything he’s saying, meanwhile I’m struggling to find his underlying intentions for calling.
I’ve learned that the only time I don’t sound like a nervous wreck around Jameson is when I’m insulting him. “Yeah, um, okay.”
“Is that alright?” He asks, sensing my apprehension.
Finally, I feel myself finding a groove in the conversation. “Yeah, I know how important this is to you, since you’re obsessed with me and all.”
“Hey,” he chastises sarcastically, “Who told you?”
“Call it a lucky guess.” At this moment, I”m thankful Jameson can’t see my face, because the smile that I’m wearing is embarrassing.
“How far through Gilmore Girls are you?” He changes the conversation with a question that sounds genuine.
“Well, I’ve already rewatched it all the way through at least six times.” Except season six, I skip that one every time.
“So…” Jameson trails off, sounding confused. “Why watch it again?”
“I don’t think you’d entirely understand unless you actually watched it.”
“Is this you telling me I should watch Gilmore Girls?”
“I would one hundred percent recommend it,” I answer. “But just know that, if you don’t like it, then we probably won’t work out together.”
“Wow.” He laughs lightly. “You feel that strongly about it?”
“Yes,” I say bluntly.
“I guess I’ll have to watch it, then.”
True to his word, Jameson began watching episode one of Gilmore Girls while we were still on call, just to show he was serious.
He wants to prove that he cares about the things that I care about, which I find incredibly endearing.
The call ended sometime after that. It was so late that I don’t remember exactly what time I fell asleep, but when I woke up to a text from Jameson, I don’t have any doubt I left the same impression on him.
Call me when you wake up?
Be honest. Are you obsessed
with me?
I can’t disclose that
information over text
message. Maybe call me?
You’re right, we can’t
have evidence of your
infatuation.
With that, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Instead of a call though, it’s a FaceTime. “I’m still in bed,” I groan as I answer.
I go silent when I look at my screen, now illuminated with a very shirtless Jameson Beaumont brushing his teeth.
“You just woke up?” His voice is muffled through toothpaste as he picks up his phone to check the time. “It’s almost eleven.”
“I stayed up late,” I protest.
“Um, no you didn’t,” Jameson says. “You fell asleep at like one A.M.”
“Huh?”
“You fell asleep on the phone with me.” He confirms my suspicions.
It makes me feel odd, knowing I went to sleep while still on call with Jameson. It feels way more intimate than I ever expected to be with him. “Interesting.”
“Yeah, and you snore like you need a CPAP machine,” he replies, his tone completely serious.
“Yeah, I’ll probably need one eventually.” I will not deny that I occasionally snore in my sleep because it’s probably true.
I’ve never been a good sleeper, and I know it’s probably caused by a million different things: stress, my eating habits, snoring.
“That’s okay,” Jameson says, like he is saying, ‘I would still call you in the middle of the night.”
“Maybe I’d look good wearing a CPAP machine,” I joke as I stand from my bed, slipping my feet into slippers.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Jameson laughs. “Where are you going?” He asks, seeing me move throughout my room.
“The bathroom. I have to brush my teeth.” I set my phone down on the counter, just like Jameson did.
“Are you doing anything today?” He asks once I’m almost done brushing my teeth.
I nod, spitting out the toothpaste out of the camera”s view. “I’m going to meet Eloise and Winnie at Taylor’s Diner later today.”
“Do you guys hang out there a lot?”
“Yeah.” I grab my hairbrush, beginning to run it through my disheveled hair. “Eloise pretends to work, when really the only table she serves is ours. Plus, we get free food.”
Suddenly, Jameson looks conflicted, which makes me realize that he probably asked me if I was busy for a reason, and now it’s become awkward.
“You and the boys should come,” I tell him. “I mean, if you’re not doing anything.”
“Yeah, that would be fun.” Jameson smiles. “What time?”
“We’re meeting there around three.” I pick my phone up off the counter, heading back into my bedroom.
“I’ll see what Logan and Luke are doing.” From the movement of his camera, I assume he’s going downstairs.
“Okay,” I answer.
“You sure you’re okay with us crashing?” He asks.
“You’re not crashing anything; we’re eating lunch.” It’s true. I wouldn’t have invited Jameson purely out of obligation, and I won’t mind him being there.
“Alright, well I’ll see you there, then.” He grins into the camera.
“Okay.”
We say our goodbyes, and as soon as his call ends, I start another with Winnie and Eloise.
Logan, Luke, and Jameson walk into Taylor’s Diner twenty minutes after Winnie, Eloise, and I got here. Casually late, like usual.
Winnie waves as they approach, and the three of us scoot toward the middle of the corner booth to make room for the boys to sit.
There isn’t a weird tension within the group like I thought there would be. Our conversations feel normal, and our friendship doesn”t feel tainted with the secret that Jameson and I are keeping.
I kissed him two nights ago, and nobody but the two of us know it happened, let alone that it happened again the next day. It feels like something should be different, like there should have been a shift in the dynamic between all of us, but there isn’t one.
Jameson glances at me from across the table occasionally, and every time he does, I look away—as if my feelings are radiating off my skin for everyone to see.I knew this secret would be hard to keep, but I was more worried about getting caught, not about making our attraction obvious.Now every glance, every sentence we speak to each other, is subject to my scrutiny.
When we leave the restaurant, the group splits into its usual sub-groups of Winnie and Logan, Luke and Eloise, and then not-so-usually, Jameson and me.
“Well, that was horrible,” he says once we’re a few feet away from everyone else.
I sigh in relief. “You thought so too?”
“Did you think we were being overtly obvious the entire time?”
“Are we being overtly obvious right now?” I look back to where the others are standing around.
“I hope not,” he groans.
“Is it even worth it to keep this a secret?” We had talked a bit about it last night, but other than that, we haven’t broached the topic much further.
“I think we need to take time to figure things out for ourselves before our friends throw their inputs at us,” he replies, as if we are in some type of business meeting.
“Okay.” I watch as the group begins to re-consolidate, knowing we don’t have much longer before they get close enough to hear our conversation.
“Hey,” Jameson says, catching my attention. “I’m glad we’re doing this. You don’t have to be worried.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
He smiles sincerely. “If I’m sure about anything, it’s you.”