I was the way I was? I looked the way I did? What did that mean? “Uh … I thought I liked a guy. I told Lorna. We plotted to get him to notice me—”
“Like you need to plot,” he muttered.
Huh? Did he mean what I thought he meant? My heart raced a little faster. “Anyway, that was his parents’ beach house and tonight was supposed to be the night …”
Jamie turned to look at me so fast, it surprised me he didn’t get whiplash. “The night you what?”
Realizing where his thoughts had gone, I smacked his arm. “Not that.”
His hands tightened around the wheel. “Good,” he bit out.
“Tonight was supposed to be the night that we kissed. Maybe agreed to go on a date. Instead …your sister pounced first. And now he’s texting me to say that he didn’t mean to stick his tongue down Lorna’s throat for fifteen minutes and that it’s me he wants.”
At Jamie’s silence, I suddenly felt idiotic telling him. “It’s whatever.”
“It’s not whatever.” He shook his head. “You’re her best friend. Why would she do that to you?”
“It’s not as though I really liked him,” I confessed, not wanting Jamie to come down on Lorna for anything else. Even when she was horrible to me, I still found myself protecting her. It was confusing. “I just wanted to like him. Does that make sense?”
Jamie frowned. “Are you … are you not into guys?”
I laughed at his assumption. “Yes, I am. Just not anyone in my class.”
He seemed to relax a little. “Well, that’s fair enough. Still, Lorna thought you liked him. She shouldn’t have done that.”
“She’s possessive of me.” I tried to explain her reasoning. “She doesn’t want anyone to take my attention away from her.”
“And you think that’s okay? Jane, that’s not okay.”
I knew that. I sighed. Heavily. I tried to change the subject. “Are you enjoying college?”
He smirked and flicked me a knowing look. That smirk set off a flutter of butterflies low in my belly. “Four more years of school. Should I be enjoying it?”
“Yes,” I insisted. “Jamie, you’re surrounded by other students passionate about literature and writing. You’re among your people.”
His lips twitched. “My people?”
“Your people.”
He considered this, nodded, and then asked, “You read anything good lately?”
Ask a bookworm that question and expect a lengthy answer. “I found a new author to obsess over. Haruki Murakami. I read A Wild Sheep Chase first, and I’ve just finished Norwegian Wood. Now I’m starting Kafka on the Shore.” From there, I waxed lyrical about the Japanese writer’s prose and how I loved the surrealism of the worlds he created, of the fatalistic loneliness of the characters.
When I realized I was rambling, I abruptly shut up.
“What is it?” Jamie asked in confusion.
“I was talking too much.”
“No, you weren’t.” He smiled at me. Again. “I’ll need to check out his books. Recommendation to start?”
“Norwegian Wood.”
“Then I’ll read that first.”
Something about the way he said it, his voice deep, his expression almost affectionate, made me squirm hotly in the passenger seat.
Jamie returned his attention to the road. His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. “She’s following us. Good.”
I realized that I hadn’t even thought to ask if Lorna was making her way home too.
“Hey?”
There was a question in his voice. “Yeah?”
“I know I’m two years late with this, but I’m sorry I was a dick the night you told me about being adopted.”
My breathing stuttered and my cheeks grew hot. Why was he mentioning this now?
“I …” He let out a little huff of laughter. “What you said really got to me. I didn’t know how to react, and I was a dick. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“You did.” I didn’t know who was more surprised by my honesty, him or me.
Remorse softened his features. “Shit, Jane, I’m really, really sorry.”
Something that had been aching inside me for a while finally soothed. “You’re forgiven.”
There was a moment of silence between us, and then, “You schooled me that night. You know that?”
Shocked, I shook my head. “In what way?”
“Reminded me that I wasn’t the only one who’d been through something. And that having a shitty dad or being angry at my mom for dying before I could stop being angry at her for being a shitty mom wasn’t an excuse to be a dick.”
Wow.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You’ve already said it. And I’ve never forgotten it.”
Jamie looked nervous. I’d never seen him look nervous. He swallowed hard and glanced between the road and me, his fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I … uh … I’ve never asked anyone other than my professors to read anything I’ve written before, but … would you? I mean, would you …” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Would you want to read something of mine?”
It took everything within me not to shout a big, fat YES at the top of my lungs. My pounding heart was now speeding at a hundred miles per hour, my palms clammy. Be cool, Jane. Be cool. “Sure.” I was proud I sounded normal, in control. I smiled when he looked at me again. “I’d like that.”
Jamie released a breath. Like what I thought mattered or something. “Okay. Great.”
I tried to lose my smile and failed spectacularly. He caught me and grinned. A full, wide, gorgeous grin. For me.
Something passed between us.
Something new.
And exciting.
Holy fluttering butterflies.
I’d always been hyperaware of Jamie McKenna, but it felt like, in that moment, maybe he was just as aware of me.
“So, what about you?” he asked.
“What about me what?”
“College. You’re a senior after the summer and then it’s college. What are your plans?”
College made me anxious. I knew what my heart wanted, but my head, a.k.a. Lorna, told me something else.
“Well, Lorna thinks I should consider pre-law with her.”
Jamie snorted. Hard.
I scowled. “What?”
He looked at me in disbelief. “You, a lawyer? No. No. I asked what you wanted to do. Not what Lorna wants you to do.”
Well, that was obvious, surely. “Jamie, I want to go to art school. But what the hell will I do with an art degree?”
“Something that makes you happy.” He might as well have added “duh” onto the end of his sentence. “Jane, you’re talented. And way too creative to be stuck in a job that won’t allow you to explore that side of you. Plus, college is for discovering shit about yourself. Go to art school. Try different classes. Do things you never thought you’d like or be good at—see where it leads.”
My palms were clammy for a different reason now. “And what about money and security?”
“All good things. I didn’t say they weren’t. But there’s a reason they say money can’t buy happiness.” He flicked me an assessing look. “Back in Dorchester, we had this neighbor. Alejandro Elba. He was a jazz player. Didn’t have a lot of money but he had a shit ton of records, had played the sax alongside Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, and Herbie Hancock. Unlike them, Alejandro didn’t find fame. And it didn’t seem to matter to him. He went out on the streets of Boston and played that sax like a legend. Scooped up his takings for the day, bought a coffee, and sat in the neighborhood, chatting with his friends and anyone who wanted his time.
“He was the happiest guy I’d ever met. Way fucking happier than all of Skye’s rich-and-famous friends put together. I will never do something because it’ll make me a crap ton of money. My life will be about what feels right.”
A smile pulled at my lips as I stared at Jamie McKenna’s handsome profile. Those bu
tterflies he caused in my belly, that sweet ache in my chest, his words amplified them all.
Feeling my stare, he asked, “What?”
“I’m just wondering when you got so wise?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It might have been around the time a cute freshman reminded me to look beyond myself.”
My cheeks bloomed with heat. I couldn’t believe Jamie was so affected by our moment that night while all this time, I’d felt weird about telling him my story.
And did he just call me cute?
It wasn’t “sexy,” but I’d take it.
“Jane.”
“Yeah?”
“I have to apologize for something else. I was wrong. A few weeks back. At the pool.”
Remembering the moment he’d chastised me about the bikini, I shifted uncomfortably. “Okay.”
“I mean it. You were right. I shouldn’t tell you what you can and cannot wear. It was high-handed and assholian.”
Laughter bubbled on my lips. “Assholian?”
Jamie grinned. “Yes, it was extremely assholian.”
“So, you’re just inventing words now?”
“When appropriate, yeah.”
I laughed and he flashed me a warm look, affection bright in his eyes. “I like it. It’s a good word.”
“Thank you.” His smile fell a little. “But I mean it. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable. My issue with the bikini is my issue, and I shouldn’t have made it yours.”
Confused, I furrowed my brow. “What issue is that exactly?”
His eyes swung to me and flickered down my body, lingering on my bare legs, before returning to the road ahead.
After a few seconds, I realized he had no intention of replying. He didn’t need to. A thick, hot tension I’d never felt before had fallen between us. It pressed on my chest, and my skin felt too tight, too hot.
Lorna, who had lost her virginity to Xavier Highland last year, had told me that sometimes she just needed to be touched. I didn’t understand what she meant—until now. I needed Jamie to touch me. To soothe this feeling. Somehow, I knew only his touch could.
It was a long car ride after that, and when we finally pulled up to my apartment complex, I didn’t know what to say to break the loaded moment between us.
Realizing Jamie wasn’t going to say anything either, I pushed open the door.
“I’ll, uh—”
At the sound of his voice, I looked over my shoulder at him.
“Why don’t you come over to the house after school on Monday? Lorna has track practice then, right?”
“Right.” I barely got the word out. Lorna had joined the track-and-field team sophomore year. I didn’t know if it was because she liked it or because she thought it would give her something in common with Jamie. I voted the latter.
“I’ll see you then?” He stared at me with an intensity I’d never seen in his eyes before. It matched the vibe that had sizzled between us the entire car ride. Excitement fluttered its rapid little wings near my heart.
“See you then. And thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”
“I know you do.”
I moved to leave again and he stopped me with another “hey.”
I laughed under my breath and turned back to him. “Yeah?”
But he wasn’t laughing. “Do you have my number?”
I shook my head.
“Give me your phone. Anytime you need a ride again, you call me.”
“Jamie—”
“No arguments. I don’t like the idea of you being stranded somewhere.”
Fumbling for my phone, I quickly handed it over. He typed in his number and then called his cell, shifting in his seat to pull it out of his pocket. After a few seconds of fiddling around with it, he handed mine back to me. As I took it, our fingers brushed, and a shock of electricity rippled up my hand.
My eyes flew to his face to find him staring at me, wide-eyed.
Like he’d felt it too.
“I’ll, uh …” His gaze dropped. “See you Monday.”
Trembling with my reaction to him, I nodded and hopped out of the car. He waited until I walked through the gate into the complex. One look over my shoulder told me he was still waiting.
Jamie waited until I got all the way to my door before I heard the sound of his Mustang purr.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
4
JAMIE
Eighteen years old (almost nineteen)
I was in a hurry to get home. It was the one day of the week we didn’t have practice, and while the guys were all getting ready for some party at a frat house that night, I was heading back to Glendale.
They called me on it, but I didn’t care.
There was someone waiting for me at home. Someone who excited me. Someone I couldn’t stop thinking about. Over the last few months, I’d become closer to this person than I’d ever imagined I was capable of.
Jane.
She’d asked for the latest chapters of the novel I was writing to distract her from a crazy start to senior year. A friend of Lorna’s had died in a drunk-driving accident. Greta. She was a girl Jane had practically grown up with. They hadn’t been friends. In fact, it was kind of the opposite, but Lorna and Greta had hung out a lot. I knew the past few weeks had been tough on them both for different reasons, and that there was some tension between them. Lorna had a ton of friends to turn to, but Jane didn’t. And I didn’t want her to be alone.
I liked our secret get-togethers because I loved being around Jane, but I also liked being able to keep my finger on the pulse of what was going on with her.
We grabbed secret time together whenever we could. That afternoon she was going to tell me what she thought about my chapters. I always got a little nervous because it turned out shy little Jane wasn’t timid about telling me exactly what she thought about my writing. Her critique was always insightful and fair, and it made her praise even more satisfying. I fucking glowed when she rhapsodized about the parts she loved.
It didn’t surprise me to find Jane curled up on the couch with her laptop open on her lap. Skye gave her a key to the house not long after we’d moved there.
The tension that had coiled tightly around my muscles as I’d hurried home relaxed immediately.
“Hey,” I said, dumping my backpack by the coffee table.
Jane looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes. “Hey.”
“Lorna at practice?”
She nodded.
“Want a drink?”
“Sure.”
I frowned at her less than loquacious responses but retrieved bottled water from the refrigerator without questioning it. Instead, I waited until I got to the sectional and sat as close as I could without it being too obvious how close I wanted to be to her.
The smell of watermelon and some other fruity, undefinable scent tickled my senses. Jane always smelled amazing.
“What’s up?”
She heaved a sigh and turned her body toward me, her laptop slipping. She grabbed hold of it and then peered up at me from beneath her lashes. It was a shy, uncertain look. I thought we were past that.
“What is it?” My tone was more impatient than I meant.
A frown creased her brow. “Nothing.” She flicked her finger over the mouse pad. “Let’s talk about this book of yours.”
Realizing I’d fucked up with my attitude, I covered her hand with mine. “Hey, you can tell me.”
Her gorgeous olive skin turned a little pink on the crest of her cheekbones. I tried not to be smug about it, but I loved that I could make Jane react to me. It made up for the fact that ever since I’d driven her home that night from Malibu, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.
Before that night, I’d realized I was attracted to her. And I didn’t want to be—she was my little sister’s best friend, and there were eighteen months between us. That wasn’t a lot, true. But we were at the awkward place in our ages where I was legal, and she wasn’t
.
I’d tried to ignore my attraction, but it was more than physical. That was the problem. I wanted her, not just because she was beautiful, but because I couldn’t always work her out, and I liked that. She was quiet and thoughtful, and she had the ability to shut me up with her intelligent observations without even raising her voice. Mostly, though, she was smart, cute, authentically herself, and so fucking kind, it was unreal.
“Jane?” I took my hand off hers since I seemed to have struck her mute with the action.
Finally, she met my eyes. To my shock, I saw something like guilt in them. “I hate school right now. Everyone is … People are still crying in huddles and constantly talking about Greta. Lorna and her friends are organizing a memorial for the end of the semester, and a drunk-driving campaign, and they keep trying to get everyone to talk about how they’re feeling about Greta’s death.”
Understanding dawned, along with a deep sense of kinship. “You don’t want to share that shit with people who aren’t your friends.”
“Yes.” Her eyes filled with relief that I understood, and it took everything within me not to kiss her. “I’m horrified this happened to Greta. But she was not a nice person to me. And she got in a car drunk—we’re lucky she didn’t kill anyone else. I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing, and I don’t want to talk about it. Sometimes what they’re doing doesn’t feel genuine. Like, it’s for attention … Does that make me sound like a bad person?”
“No.” I frowned. “You and Lorna are different people. Let her draw out the grief with her friends the way she wants to.” I sighed. “You just do you. Like hell I’d want to talk to people who aren’t my real friends about something like that … If you need to talk, you can talk to me.”
Jane gave me a grateful smile, the sadness in her eyes dimming but never disappearing. As if she read my thoughts, she whispered, “I just did. And I feel like the shittiest person for feeling only sad instead of heartbroken. And for truly believing Greta’s friends are using her death for attention. There. I said it. I’m a terrible person.”
I couldn’t help it. I needed to touch her. To comfort her. I reached out and slid my hand along her jaw until I buried it in her hair. I clasped her nape and bent my forehead to hers. Closing my eyes, I breathed her in. She was like oxygen in that moment.
Black Tangled Heart Page 5
