I’m not sure why she suddenly seems distant, but all I want is for her to be completely present—with me. “Fuck, no. Hand that over.”
At that, Lucy beams at me, and a weight is lifted off my chest.
Bringing burgers to me…that took thoughtfulness, time, and preparation. This is more than just friendship, right? Could this really be more?
Chapter nineteen
Lucy
Since I saw Jake in the ER on Thursday, I’ve been obsessing over Sam’s red-rimmed eyes. I was too upset and caught off-guard to know what to say. And what did he even mean by “dealing with unresolved issues”? They must be debating whether or not to get back together. But if that’s the case, wouldn’t he end our fake relationship? But maybe he still wants to continue what we’re doing until he makes further progress with Sam—it seems to beworking, after all.
Although I want to help Jake and I desperately want to see him happy, I’m not sure I’m masochistic enough to watch their love story unfold in real time. Just them sitting next to each other in the break room was enough to level me. What will happen when I see them touch, hold hands, or God forbid, kiss?
And what does Jake even see in Sam? To me, she’s not good enough for him—he deserves a woman who truly sees him, who supports him no matter what. She doesn’t seem to appreciate him for who he is. From the little I know about her, she doesn’t seem to understand what it’s like to have complicated parental relationships. She didn’t even watch him play at TNT when they were together! Not to mention, any woman that thinks Sterling Whitlock is worth dating is seriously deluded.
Maybe I’m just jealous, but Jake could do better. Can I in good conscience guide him back to a woman who will only hurt him in the end?
Trying to distract myself, I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts. My eyes catch on my brother’s name. After a beat, I decide to call, but the phone just rings and rings until Peter’s voicemail kicks in. This is the third message I’ve left. Still no reply.
Sighing, I toss my phone aside. My head is a jumble, and I’m a tangle of emotions that seem to tie themselves progressively into tighter knots.
Is there any way to release this tension building in my chest?
My mind turns to Jake serenading me and then to our achingly beautiful duet together. I don’t typically sing by myself. Even in the shower, I still feel self-conscious. But I long to release myfeelings, let them take flight, even if the words aren’t technically mine.
Slowly, hesitantly, the words to “On My Own,” fromLes Miserables,flow from my lips. Eponine, the girl everyone has thrown away, is in love with a man who is in love with someone else.
I can relate.
The sorrow of the opening stanzas flood out of me, and I pour everything into the sound. Even when Jake’s not with me, I feel him there. I’ve never felt this level of connection, certainly not with Weston. With Jake, I’m rewriting everything I thought I knew. As I sing, I remember that moment—the almost kiss.Werewe going to kiss? I can’t be sure that it wasn't just me hoping.
And then comes the key change, and something shifts in me too. Defiance fills my voice—Eponine and I can’t deny what we feel. The yearning to be seen, to love and be loved in return, digs deep.
The final notes float through the air, but the words stay with me, echoing in my chest long after the music ends.
Though he doesn’t feel the same, I’ll continue caring for Jake…even if it’s only on my own.
Friday and Saturday are torturous and long. I’m torn between my overwhelming desire to see Jake and the urge to cancel. Would he even notice if I didn’t show up tonight at TNT? But he’s saving tickets for us, and I don’t want to be another Sam, someone who isn’t there when it really matters.
This is the least I can do. I never want Jake to feel like he isn’t worth showing up for.
That evening, the girls come over to my apartment to pregame before we head over to TNT. One positive out of all of this is that I’m finally feeling more integrated into our group. With Amelia, I no longer cringe from each of her questions. And Isabelle being in the know about Jake has eased any awkwardness between us because she is so thrilled to be part of my “fake dating” mess. As for Zoe? I think we’re getting there, but I haven’t mustered enough courage to hang out with her alone. I damaged all of my friendships in the past year, but for some reason, I hurt her the worst, and that knowledge stabs my insides with guilt.
Before they came over, I decided on a flowery corset top and hot pink shorts with some strappy heels, hopefully coming off as cute but not trying too hard. While this is an outfit that Weston would highly disapprove of—he hates anything frilly, flowery, or pink—it only took half an hour to select it. That feels like progress.
Somehow I know Jake would appreciate any outfit his girlfriend wore. And then I wonder…will he think I look cute tonight? Does it even matter?
“Thanks for coming with me, guys,” I say to my friends now even as a tingly, buzzing sensation spreads over my skin at the thought of seeing Jake again.
Will it be awful being there knowing that he can’t be mine? Or is it okay to just pretend for one night that he is?
I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of that. A fake relationship designed to fool myself.
Amelia’s voice is a pleasant interruption to my mental tailspin. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus, I didn’t get to go during our first-year bar-hopping event because I came down with the flu, and I’ve always wanted to go.”
Amelia’s in a simple black tank and blue jeans with cute sandals. She doesn’t wear heels as much as the rest of us because of her height. Still, she manages to look chic and effortless.
Definitely much more put together than I feel right now.
