by Jack Parker
"Huh."
Silence hung in the air between them for a couple of minutes. Jake doubted that Brent knew what to say to something that probably seemed very foreign to him. Accepting the concept that Hannah and her posse were likeable? It might as well have been said in Russian.
"Well, I'd better go check on that dog," Brent said finally. He gave Jake a long look. "But let's do something while we're still on break. Maybe go check out the ghetto."
Jake laughed lightly and got into his car. "Will do, Brent. See you later, man."
Leaving the school behind, Jake had a sudden thought, although it disturbed his sanity to realize that his thoughts kept going back to one source: Hannah. Perhaps it was because he wanted rid of her so badly. But regardless, he had the sudden thought to go find a Gin Blossoms CD. He knew his mother would have the Rascal Flatts at home, so now he just needed that other group.
He made the short drive through town to Wal-Mart, figuring their music department was vast enough for that. If not, he could always have Isaac break into Hannah's bedroom for him, since she'd certainly have her favorite song somewhere. But Jake easily found a greatest hits CD of the Gin Blossoms. He also found one for the Rascal Flatts, which he bought simply because all the best songs would be on one CD, and he wouldn't have to listen to all of his mom's CDs to find the best songs.
Country music. One could only handle so much of it.
At least if that one was Jake Allen.
In Wal-Mart, Jake also saw the two titles of movies that Tisha and Libby had cited as Hannah's favorites. Since they were marked under ten dollars each, Jake briefly considered buying them. But…how weird would it look for him to be buying chick flicks? It simply wasn't going to happen. So Jake just purchased the CDs, a package of Hershey bars, and a frozen bag of tater tots. The movies could be rented instead.
Jake stopped at Wendy's on the way home and picked up a chicken sandwich combo. All that talk with the girls and basketball with the guys had made him hungry, despite what he'd told Kirk.
It was dark by the time that Jake got home. He parked in his driveway and started collecting his stuff. Jake pocketed the list he'd written with the girls, grabbed his Wal-Mart bag, which had spilled on the way, and balanced it all with his Wendy's bag and cup. Just as he was about to let himself out of the truck, the driver-side door opened, causing Jake to drop everything in the passenger seat from shock.
Whipping his head around, Jake saw Hannah standing there. "Oh, it's you," he murmured, sighing a little. "You just scared me half to—"
Jake was cut off as Hannah's arms wrapped around his neck and she pushed her body against his. Very surprised, Jake opened his mouth to speak, but Hannah's lips pressed against his, silencing him with a lingering kiss.
Chapter 13
Princess Palpitation
After a moment, one of Jake's hands found its way to Hannah's hip, and Hannah felt his lips move against hers. She leaned as close to him as she could, kissing him lengthily. Finally, after another long moment, Jake pulled back just slightly, so Hannah opened her eyes to admire him. But she was more than taken aback by what she saw, as Jake's eyebrows seemed to be knit together in confusion, not raised with admiration. Hannah swallowed, waiting for him to speak.
Oh crap.
"What was that for?" Jake asked softly, still seeming puzzled.
Hannah's mouth slowly opened, but no words came out. She wasn't sure. All that she was sure of was that that was the last thing she'd thought he'd say. Regret and disgust with herself hit Hannah like a freight train, and she jerked away from Jake quickly, anxious to put some definite distance between them.
"Hannah…"
Spinning on her tennis shoes, Hannah fled from Jake's truck and headed for her house, ignoring Jake's calls.
For the love of God, what had she been thinking? What had she been smoking? What had possessed her to run to Jake when she saw that he'd returned home? Hot tears filled Hannah's eyes when she came to the conclusion that there was no way she was ever getting within eyeshot of Jake again. She couldn't understand why kissing him had seemed like such a good idea before, when clearly it was just stupid. After reading her diary, Hannah hadn't stopped thinking about Jake and how great he'd been to her, and something ignited inside of her—something that wanted to act on the feelings she had for him, the feelings she'd apparently had for a long time.
When Hannah had thought about kissing Jake before, she'd imagined that he'd kiss her back—which he had—and then smile that perfect smile of his. She'd hoped more than anything that he'd secretly harbored feelings for her too, but why had she been so bold about it all?
Sniffling hard, Hannah pushed open the door to her house and made a near run for her bedroom. Once there, she locked her door and threw herself onto her bed. What was so wrong with her? Was temporary insanity something rather common after all? Could she use that excuse to cover her display of unwanted affection? Or could she just ignore the whole thing entirely and hope that Jake kept his mouth shut about it?
Soft sobs erupted from Hannah's throat as the image of Jake's confused face popped into her mind. Had her previous self been so forward? Apparently not, since Jake was so confused; he must not have known that Hannah had been so crazy about him. Why was this Hannah so forward? Why was it so necessary to come clean with Jake about something when she had no reason to believe that he felt the same way that she did? Had hitting her head so hard killed a few thousand brain cells?
Humiliated and hurt, Hannah cried and cried. She wasn't sure if she was crying more for her pain or her stupidity, but before she cried herself to sleep, Hannah wondered if she was really mourning the complications that her amnesia and personality change had just handed her.
It was late when Hannah finally woke up. Sometime during the night, she'd wiggled under her blankets, fully clothed, and slept deeply. But now her rumbling stomach woke her up, and Hannah groggily lifted her head to read from her alarm clock. 11:17, it read. She'd certainly exhausted herself from crying.
Hannah sat up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across her room. Her makeup was smudged, and her hair seemed tangled. She moved to stretch her arms but groaned at the tension and stiffness that had spread through her body. Deciding that a long, hot bath would do the trick to ease her pain, Hannah grabbed clean clothes from her dresser—dark green athletic pants from Hollister and a pink t-shirt—and started for her door. Just before she exited, something made her stop.
Tossed into the corner of her room were the clothes that she'd borrowed from Jake after Formal. Hannah swallowed, remembering her humiliation from the previous night. It sickened her to think of how she'd slept in Jake's clothes many times since then. More disgusted with herself, Hannah viciously kicked his clothes into her closet and slammed the closet door. Only then did she leave her bedroom, more than ready for her refreshing bath.
An hour later, Hannah had to admit that she felt better. She'd washed her hair and soaked in the bathtub for about forty-five minutes. After getting out, she dressed, dried her hair, and then pulled it into a ponytail. Peering into the mirror, Hannah studied her blue eyes. They were still a little puffy, a giveaway that she'd been crying, but hopefully, no one else would notice. She quickly applied some makeup, hoping it would hide any signs of her upset.
Her stomach rumbled most demandingly, and Hannah finally made her way downstairs. A quick glimpse into the living room almost made her want to dry-heave, as Isaac and Jake were in there playing a video game. Silently and undetected, Hannah slipped into the empty kitchen and quietly searched for a suitable breakfast.
"Aww, dude! You're owning!"
Fighting the strongest desire to scowl, Hannah ignored the male voices that floated into the kitchen from the living room. She very quietly poured some Frosted Flakes into a bowl, covered them with milk, and devoured the food violently. While Hannah couldn't entirely explain her very foul mood, she wholly blamed Jake. He had, after all, embarrassed her and bent her pride all out of shap
e. Even if she should have expected his reaction after being so bold, she—
No. No, Hannah decided, she was not going to relive the previous night. She was going to eat her breakfast and go back to her room. There, she was going to do anything but think about Jake. If she had to go through everything in her closet just to make sure that all of her clothes were hung up in the same exact direction, she would do that instead of thinking about him.
At this point, she'd even rip her fingernails out if it meant not thinking about Jake.
"Oh, watch out for that—aw, man. You died."
"I've still got a higher score than you." Jake's voice. It made Hannah's stomach flip. He sounded so…normal. "Try to beat it. You'll fail."
Spooning her cereal faster, Hannah imagined that the food was Jake and that her teeth were tearing him apart. So much for not thinking about him. How could he sound like his regular self when she was so torn up? Easily, Hannah admitted to herself. He's not the one who acted so stupidly last night. I'm the one who's humiliated.
Having finished her cereal, Hannah went to the pantry and looked around. Pop-Tarts. Those always ensured a happy day, no matter what those Toaster Strudel commercials said. She took out a package of Cookie Dough Pop-Tarts, poured herself some more milk, and tried to tune out the guys' talking.
The harder she tried, the less it worked.
Isaac sighed loudly. "Jeez! This game sucks. Let's do Guitar Hero instead."
"Sore loser," Jake laughed. "Think we'll wake up your sister with it?"
Hannah's ears seemed to stick up like a dog's might, and she could feel her eyes widen. Jake had mentioned her! And he hadn't sounded like he hated her! Actually, he'd sounded a little nervous, as if waking her up would be bad. That made him a good friend, right? Or did that just make him someone who didn't want to see her?
"She's up," Isaac responded, sounding almost matter-of-fact. "Didn't you hear the water running earlier? Mom's at the store, so it had to be Han."
There seemed to be a pause. "Oh. No, I didn't."
Hannah could hear the music on the gaming system change, proving that the guys had switched games. But what she was more interested in knowing was if Jake was going to retreat home now that he knew she was creeping around somewhere. However, as much as she wanted to know what he was feeling or thinking, Hannah just as much wanted to be careless about it.
"You thirsty?" Isaac suddenly, presumably talking to Jake.
"Yeah, actually."
Hannah cringed instantly. If she hurried, she could hide in the pantry and not have to deal with seeing Jake—or being seen by him. But if she saw Jake, maybe he'd just be his normal self, which would allow Hannah to forget about the previous night. Worst case scenario was Jake ignoring her, since Hannah doubted that Isaac would let her be murdered in his presence.
"We've got orange Powerade," Isaac was saying as he walked into the kitchen. Hannah kept her head down, focusing on her Pop-Tart as though it was an original piece from Bach. "I bet I can chug more than you can."
Jake scoffed. "Undoubtedly. The orange blows."
"Yeah, well, I like it," Isaac replied, mildly defensive. His eyes landed on Hannah, and he offered her a little smile. "Hey, Han."
She didn't look up. "Hey."
"Tell Jake that the orange Powerade is incredible," Isaac commanded, opening up the refrigerator door and digging around inside. "I mean, it might not be much coming from the human garbage disposal, but at least back me up."
Quickly, Hannah grabbed a large piece of her Pop-Tart and pushed it into her mouth, giving herself the excuse of being unable to talk with her mouth full. What she'd also stupidly done was scarf down the rest of her breakfast, leaving her with nothing to stare at in lieu of looking up. So she pretended to scoop crumbs into the wrapper and remained silent.
Isaac set a bottle of orange Powerade on the countertop and spoke to Jake. "What do you want to drink?"
Having scooped up any crumbs, Hannah stood and moved to the garbage can, ready to throw away her breakfast remains and escape upstairs. Perhaps the pantry had been a better idea, since Jake hadn't greeted her or anything.
Isaac's voice cut the air again. "Jake?"
Realizing that Jake hadn't replied to Isaac (or spoken a single word, really), Hannah risked a quick glance at him. Jake was casually looking out the window into the backyard, but Isaac repeating his name made Jake look away from it. When he did, he met Hannah's eyes, which widened as she realized it. She swallowed; her stomach felt like a hurricane was raging inside of it. For close to thirty seconds, Hannah and Jake merely stared at each other in silence.
"Uh, guys?" Opening his Powerade, Isaac stepped between them, breaking their eye contact, and wrinkled his forehead. "What's going down?"
Jake relaxed suddenly—Hannah barely saw the rapid transformation—and moved toward the refrigerator easily. "Nothing," he answered, sounding calm. "You have any bottled water?"
Suspicion still shone brightly in Isaac's eyes as he looked back and forth between Hannah and Jake. "Probably." He frowned a little, but Hannah didn't stick around to wait for him to say anything. Feeling like a cowering fool, Hannah scrambled from the kitchen, trying her best to appear calm and collected but doubting that she was abundantly successful.
Halfway to the stairs, Hannah realized that she'd started holding her breath, and it wasn't until she was locked away in her bedroom that she let the shaky breath out. Things were totally awkward between her and Jake, and that, more than anything, she bitterly realized, hurt her more than anything else.
. . .
"Ten beautiful girls stand before me, but, unfortunately, one of them has to go home," Tyra Banks announced from the television in Hannah's bedroom. For the last two and half hours, Hannah had watched nothing but America's Next Top Model, and she'd been comforted to see that watching the silly drama actually took her mind off things.
Who needed a psychiatrist when there was cheesy reality TV?
A sudden knock on her bedroom door made Hannah tear her eyes away from the television screen. The knocker tried to open the door, and Hannah couldn't resist smirking when the lock didn't give, despite the person's obvious frustration with it.
"Hannah, let me in!" Isaac hissed moodily. He rattled the doorknob and added, "I know where the key is, so just open the freaking door."
Rolling her eyes, Hannah got up, unlocked the door, and returned to her bed so swiftly that she impressed herself. It was remarkable how fluid her movements could be even after lazing around in bed for most of the day. "What do you want?" she asked as Isaac flopped onto her bed. "And where's that key?"
Isaac smiled. "Secret." A low sigh came from deep inside his chest, his smile fading thoughtfully. "Did you and Jake have a fight?" he asked bluntly. "I think you guys had a fight. Tell me everything."
Hannah raised her eyebrows, hoping a pissy expression would intimidate Isaac into leaving. Why she was naïve enough to even hope for that, she wasn't sure. "We didn't have a fight," she answered honestly. Her heart skipped a beat before the beating grew faster. "Why would you think that?"
"If tension was arsenic, we would have all died down there in the kitchen."
Fidgeting as discreetly as possible, Hannah shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you should ask Jake about it instead."
Isaac glanced somewhere to Hannah's right, but she didn't bother checking to see what he was looking at. "I did."
"You did?" Hannah repeated, her heart's pace quickening again. She forced herself to stay calm. "Well? What'd he say?"
"He went home," Isaac answered flatly. A car beeped its horn from the driveway, and Isaac stood from the bed. "I'm going to Seth's for awhile. When I get back, I want an explanation. Something happened."
Hannah merely shrugged innocently and fixed her eyes on Isaac's eyes. If he wanted a staring contest, she'd more than happily compete. In fact, she continued meeting his eyes sternly until the car horn was impatiently blown again; then Isaac sighed and left, b
ut not before muttering something darkly under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'PMS.'
Hannah muted her television and listened closely. When she heard Isaac lock the front door behind him, she relaxed with a long sigh. Stupid Isaac. Hannah shook her head slowly and then turned the volume up on the television, just in time to hear the departing wails of a wannabe-model who'd been eliminated from the competition. It was probably more than a little sadistic of her, but Hannah was so grateful that someone else was crying for a change that she had to smile.
Just then, her cell phone began vibrating obnoxiously on her bedside table. She really didn't feel like talking to anyone, but to keep the phone from vibrating off the table and onto the floor, Hannah picked up the phone and checked the caller id. Honestly, she'd expected it to be Isaac, spitefully calling to warn her that he still wanted an explanation.
But it was Jake.
Hannah's world froze, and the passing of three seconds felt like the passing of three lifetimes. Cautiously, Hannah muted her television again and picked up her phone. She flipped it open, took a deep breath, accepted the call, and held the phone to her ear. Just because she'd answered didn't mean she had to talk to him. Oh no. He called her; he could do the talking, and she'd do the listening.
What surprised Hannah was that Jake seemed to have the same idea because he was silent as well. She turned her head and glanced at her clock; silently, she watched the digital numbers change as the minutes passed. After six minutes, Hannah began to think that maybe Jake had hung up. She glanced at her phone and saw that she was still connected; as soon as she situated her phone back against her ear, she heard Jake sigh. He sounded frustrated, and frustrated Jake sounded sexy.
Hannah winced even as she thought it. He really was too good looking for his own good. Images from the night before flashed through Hannah's mind, and she wanted to cry all over again from humiliation. But she refused to. Between Greg and Jake, she'd cried way too many times since Formal. Instead, she un-muted her television and turned the volume up; maybe Jake would appreciate models complaining to their professional photographers as much as she did.
