by Cassie Beebe
Jacob sat up, taking off his outer shirt and stuffing it under his head as a make-shift pillow.
“Do you own more than two shirts?” Jenna teased, appraising his attire.
He snorted. “Barely.”
“Hey, what’s that?” she asked, rolling onto her side and reaching out to touch the chain around his neck that had fallen out from under his shirt.
“A chicken?” she raised an eyebrow. “Is there a story there?”
He chuckled, his cheeks flooding with heat at how close she was, her sweet perfume flavoring the air as she held the charm between her fingers and leaned over him to inspect it. From that close, he could see that the same sparkles that highlighted her cheekbones also dotted her inner eyes, and beneath the thin layer of makeup on her face, he detected a faint hint of freckles.
“It was a gift from a friend,” he said. “Kind of an inside joke, I guess.”
“Hm,” she muttered, examining his expression for a moment with her hazel eyes – eyes that held dark flecks of brown he had never noticed before. She rolled onto her back again before he was finished admiring them.
One by one, the rest of the students embarked on their trek back to the dorms, leaving behind one small group who stayed to watch the fire burn out.
They were secluded from the rest of the group, hidden by the tall brush, and there were long moments in which nothing else could be heard over the sound of the crickets. All he could see of the party now was the smoke of the dying embers rising up to the sky.
Jenna was close enough by his side that whenever she moved, her leather jacket grazed his arm. But he found that, to his surprise, he wasn’t uncomfortable with her proximity this time.
They lay like that for so long, staring up at the stars, that his eyelids began to drift closed. The peaceful breeze tickled his cheeks as he breathed in the crisp night air, his body crashing after such a long, full day.
A raucous laughter rang out from the other side of the field, jolting him awake.
“What are they doing?” he wondered aloud. He turned his head toward the noise, but all he could see was smoke and stars.
“I think they’re playing ‘I Never,’” Jenna answered, turning over on her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows.
“Playing what?”
She looked down at him, eyebrows raised. “You’ve never played ‘I Never?’”
“No…,” Jacob trailed off, confused by the phrasing of the sentence. “Is that really what it’s called? Because that’s not very grammatically correct.”
Jenna snorted. “Oh my gosh, I cannot accept this,” she said, pushing herself up on her knees and brushing bits of grass and dirt off her hands. “I’m gonna go jack a bottle.”
“Uh…,” Jacob muttered.
“Oh, right, you don’t drink,” she pursed her lips for a moment. “Well, that’s okay. We can just pretend,” she decided, holding up her empty hand in a C shape and taking a pretend sip.
He chuckled. “Alright, then.”
She stared at him for a moment in mock confusion. “Where’s your cup?” she asked.
He put on a serious face. “Jenna, this is ridiculous,” he said. “I don’t have a –” he cut himself off, pulling out his own invisible glass from underneath himself. “Oh, here it is.”
She giggled and clinked her hand against his in a toast.
“Okay, so how you play is, you say something you’ve never done, and then if the other person has done it, they have to drink,” she explained.
Jacob repeated the words in his head a few times. “Okay…,” he trailed off, not sure if he understood. “Why don’t you go first. Give me an easy one.”
“Hm, okay, let’s think,” Jenna said, leaning back on her hand as she considered. “Oh! Super easy one. I’ve never been to New York.”
“So, then I would have to drink?” he asked, pointing at himself.
“Yep. Drink up,” Jenna nodded at his hand-cup.
He took a “sip” and laughed at himself for it.
“Okay, so… now I have to say something I haven’t done, that I think you probably have, yeah?” he asked.
“Mhmm,” Jenna nodded, taking a swig of her pretend drink, just for the fun of it.
He chuckled again. Settling back on the grass and staring at the stars, he searched his mind for something interesting to say for his turn. There were plenty of things he had never done, but most of the ones that came to mind were too depressing to be fun topics of conversation for a party game.
He turned his head to look at her. She was looking up at the sky, craning her neck and pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“I’ve never dyed my hair,” he decided.
“Dang. You got me good on that one,” she teased, making a show of taking her drink in mock shame over him uncovering her secrets.
He was smiling at her playfulness when a thought occurred to him.
“Oh, shit,” he said, remembering his days when he was on the run from the police, trying to disguise himself as best he could. “I have dyed my hair.”
Jenna busted out into a fit of laughter. “Jacob, you had one job.”
He laughed, too, shaking his head at himself for already failing at the simple game. “What can I say? I’ve done a lot of stuff, I guess.”
“Well, then you have to drink, too, then, if you’ve done it,” she said, and he complied. It was easy enough to oblige, given that their “drinks” had no chance of getting him drunk or making him fail a urine test.
“Alright, let’s kick this baby up a notch,” Jenna declared, laying back down on her stomach beside him. She looked at him with a sly smirk and said, “I’ve never kissed a girl.”
He scoffed.
“What?” she asked.
“Are you allowed to lie?” he raised an eyebrow.
She let out a surprised laugh. “What, you think I’ve kissed a girl?”
He stared at her through narrowed eyes, trying to see through her innocent expression. “I would be willing to bet… two dollars that you’ve kissed a girl.”
She giggled, turning her attention to the grass under her hands. She started picking at it for a moment, with a blush.
“Anyway…,” she said, drawing out the word.
“I knew it,” he smirked. “You owe me two bucks.”
“Hey, I never agreed to that bet!”
“You never? Is that your turn?”
She thought about it for a second. “Yes,” she decided. “And since you did agree to the bet, you have to drink.”
“Alright, alright, but you have to drink for the kiss one, too,” he said, about to take a sip. “Wait, what are we drinking?”
“Hm…,” she pondered that for a second, looking at his hand as if his invisible cup actually held anything but air. “Vodka,” she decided.
“Ugh,” he gagged. “I hate vodka,” he said, taking a swig.
“I thought you said you didn’t drink?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say I’ve never drank. I just don’t anymore.”
“Why not?”
He took a breath, turning back to the stars while he thought about how to explain that one. “I’ll tell you if you ask in the form of an ‘I Never’ question,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Ugh, geez, never mind. I don’t care that much,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s your turn, anyway.”
“Oh, right. I’ve never…,” he thought for a second, “been to Chicago.”
Her shoulders fell and she gave him a disappointed look. “You can’t just repeat everything I’ve asked you,” she said, sipping her air. “We already did the hometown thing.”
“Is that a rule?” he asked.
“Well, no… not technically. But it’ll be a really boring game if you do that,” she explained.
“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands. “No more copies. Your turn.”
She sighed, chewing on her lip as she stared hard at the grass, trying to think of something good. A spark lit her ey
e, and Jacob held his breath in anticipation of whatever she came up with that got her that excited.
“I’ve never had sex with a woman,” she said, adding a clarifier to her previous statement. “That one’s true.”
“Wow, okay. We’re just getting right into it,” he said, trying not to blush so obviously at the topic.
“I play to win, Perry,” she said with seriousness.
He laughed through a scoff. “How do you even win this game?”
“Don’t change the subject,” she pointed a finger at him. “Admit to your promiscuous ways!”
He chuckled. “Well… what if my ways aren’t that promiscuous?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do I just not drink, then?” he asked, unsure on the rules for this situation in the game. “If I haven’t done the thing?”
She stared at him in blank confusion for a long minute before clarity finally washed over her face.
“Wait, what?” she asked, blinking rapidly against the unheard-of response. “You’re thirty-four years old,” she stated.
“This is true,” he replied, turning away from her flabbergasted stare and trying unsuccessfully to keep from blushing.
She stared at him for a moment, still frozen in blank surprise, but eventually she came to her senses. “Well… okay, then. I guess it’s your turn.”
He had been thinking of his next question while she thought of hers, so he was prepared this time.
“I’ve never been to California?” he questioned, taking a guess that maybe she was more well-travelled than he was.
She rolled her eyes and drank. “Your questions are so boring,” she whined.
He chuckled. “Sorry.”
“Hm…,” she hummed, racking her brain.
She pulled off her sweatshirt while she pondered, tossing it to the side and going back to picking at the grass under her hands.
Jacob glanced at the braid she was making in the weeds and was distracted by a small splatter of black dots on her arm. Upon closer inspection, he discovered they were tiny birds, flying from the middle of her forearm to the start of her palm. He was about to ask if there was any meaning behind the tattoo when he noticed the crisscrossed mess of scars that covered her wrists.
His stomach dropped.
“I’ve never masturbated…,” Jenna interrupted his thoughts with an impish grin.
His head snapped up at the unexpected word.
“… at school,” she finished, her smirk clearly showing her confidence that she had landed on the perfect embarrassing admission that would force him to drink away his shame.
Jacob choked on an uncomfortable laugh in spite of himself, momentarily forgetting his previous concerns about her scars. There was no use hiding it anymore; he was definitely blushing.
“Okay, I think I get this game now,” he said, turning his eyes back to the stars to avoid her gaze. “It’s really just a way to air out your opponent’s dirty laundry.”
“Mmm, yes, but with alcohol,” Jenna said with a proud grin.
“So, without the booze, it’s basically just a round-about way of telling each other secrets?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Honestly, the booze kind of makes the game.”
“Hm,” Jacob muttered. Having officially run out of stalling tactics, he cleared the humiliation from his throat and took a sip.
Jenna laughed heartily at his deep blush, and he put his hands under the shirt beneath his head, both to prop himself up from the hard ground and hopefully to allow his arms to hide himself a bit from her view.
She was still laughing. He shook his head at himself for agreeing to such a cruel game, but a smirk spread on his face and he started to laugh, too.
Once the laughter died down, he tried to think of a statement for his turn. His mind was drawing a blank, so he decided to change course and cut out the middle man.
“One time, in first grade, I peed my pants because I was too afraid to ask to go to the bathroom,” he stated.
Jenna stared at him with wide eyes and let out a surprised chuckle.
“Sorry, I know that’s not how the game works, but it’s more to the point, don’t you think?” he shrugged.
It was silent in the field now, apart from the crickets. The other group must have called it a night, and Jacob wondered how long they had been out there. He stared at the sky for a few minutes, and Jenna lay beside him on her stomach, head perched atop her folded hands. He could nearly hear her steady breathing as the minutes passed.
After a few minutes, he began to worry that he ruined the game. Despite his earlier desire to flee the party, he now found himself hoping the night wasn’t over. But his fears were dissuaded when she lifted her head from her hands, propping herself up on her elbows again.
“I wanted to marry my brother until I was like… twelve,” she admitted with a giggle.
Jacob smirked. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Mhmm,” she muttered. “He’s in the Navy now. Lieutenant.”
“Huh.”
“Your turn,” she said.
“Oh, right. Let me think of something,” he said, searching his memories for a good story.
It took a few minutes for him to think of something that was both interesting and not depressing, but eventually one memory stuck out from the rest, and he was already chuckling when he said, “Okay, this one’s kind of a long story.”
Jenna settled in excitedly.
“So, there was this girl in high school,” he began. “She used to talk to me sometimes, sit with me at lunch. She always laughed at everything I said, even when it wasn’t funny. Which… was always, because I wasn’t funny.”
Jenna chuckled.
“Anyway, one day she asked me if I would walk her home from school, even though her house was nowhere near mine. She obviously liked me, but you know how high school boys are,” he rolled his eyes. “I was totally clueless. So, when we were walking, and she tried to hold my hand, I totally freaked out.”
He paused for a moment, looking over at Jenna’s captivated gaze, realizing this story required knowledge of his discomfort with touch.
“I was a bit of a… germaphobe as a kid,” he said, easier than the truth. “Anyway, she started crying, and I didn’t know what to do, so… I just… kind of…,” he cringed at the memory, “ran away?”
“Aww,” Jenna mewed through a fit of laughter. “That poor girl.”
Jacob laughed with her, finding humor in the memory, now. He thought about how ridiculous that must have looked to the girl whose name he couldn’t recall, and he shook his head at his former self for not having the coping skills to handle something like that at the time.
“Yeah… she didn’t really sit with me anymore after that,” he said, causing another eruption of laughter from both of them.
Jacob’s stomach was beginning to ache from the effort of laughing, and he could see tears in Jenna’s eyes from imagining such a ridiculous scene.
She took a few deep, calming breaths, a couple sporadic chuckles still remaining as she said, “My first crush was in kindergarten. I took him out to the shed on the playground and kissed him,” she continued, letting out a giggle, “and he screamed and threatened to tell the teacher.”
Jacob chuckled, thinking that probably would have been his reaction, too. Looking up at the sky again, breathing to give his stomach a break from the laughing fit, he thought about his own first kiss. “I didn’t have my first kiss ‘til I was twenty-six,” he admitted.
A leftover snort escaped Jenna’s flimsy control over her laughter. But when she looked at his expression and realized he was serious, she composed herself. She turned back to her little braid of grass shards, trying to think of something equally serious to divulge in reciprocation.
“When my brother left for the Navy, my dad gave a big speech in front of our entire family at his going-away party,” she began.
Jacob listened to her voice, barely above the sound of the cr
ickets in the brush all around them.
“He said it felt good to have a child he could be proud of,” she muttered.
Jacob raised his eyebrows at the sky and turned to look at her, but she was still staring at the grass in her hands with blank eyes. He looked back up, giving her the privacy of his averted gaze. It was another piece to what was rapidly becoming a complicated puzzle of Jenna’s life, and he filed it away in his mind with the others.
He thought about what Al had said to him that night in his office, when Jacob told him the truth about his past.
Jenna’s been through a lot, he had said. She might be more understanding than you think.
The first part was clearly truer than Jacob had ever realized, but what did that mean for the second half of the statement? Was he right? If he let Jenna in – really let her see him for who he was – would she understand?
Then again, Al didn’t know everything. He knew Jacob was a convict, sure, but that could mean a lot of things, and Jacob highly doubted murder was at the top of the list of assumptions Al would have jumped to. Maybe half of the truth was all he would ever be able to share.
“Sorry,” Jenna said, interrupting Jacob’s thoughts.
He looked over to her and she gave him a plastic smile.
“I guess I broke the game,” she teased with a chuckle that didn’t do its job of masking her discomfort.
He wanted to say something, to let her know that it was okay to share that stuff with him. That he wasn’t going anywhere.
But neither of them were very good at the emotional stuff, so he simply said, “Yeah, my dad was a dick, too,” and gave her a reassuring half-smile.
She appraised his expression, and their eyes communicated what their words never could: they were the same. She saw through the purposeful casualty of his words and into the depth of them, and for a brief moment, he felt wholly exposed, truly seen. But to his surprise, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.
Once their eyes broke apart, he looked up at the dark sky again. The moon was a thin sliver, barely illuminating the night and glinting off of the pond. He stared at the stars, but he didn’t see them. His mind was overtaken by thoughts of Jenna, trying to piece together the small snippets of her life he had seen to get a full picture, but he always came up blank. His thoughts came inevitably back to the scars on her wrists, and his gut tightened as the picture in his mind shifted to that of his mother’s lifeless body, laying still in a tub of bloody water with her slit arm draped over the edge and dripping red onto the linoleum floor. His stomach turned at the image, and he took in a centering breath to calm the nausea that always followed.
