by Jack Parker
For some reason, she doubted that.
Another four minutes passed. Hannah seriously considered hanging up.
Shawty had them Apple Bottom jeans (jeans), boots with the fur (with the fur)…
Hannah's head jerked as annoying music blared into her ear. Wait, had she just referred to that as music? Ugh! She tried to drown it out with her own television, but it was impossible—Jake's music was going straight into her ear, while Tyra's voice was coming from across the room.
"What are you listening to?" she finally snapped.
She could practically hear the grin as Jake answered, "My new favorite song. Turn your TV off; it's annoying."
"My show is annoying?" Hannah repeated. "At least I can understand the words that Nigel Barker's saying. You wanna tell me what words you're listening to?" She scoffed. "I doubt half the lyrics even have real words in them, what with all that 'shawty' crap. That hip-hop garbage is shoddy crap."
"Aw, and I was even going to sing my favorite song to you. Not anymore though. You had to go and insult my taste in music."
"Well, I'm not going to apologize, and I'm not going to turn my TV down. And if you insist on blaring that junk into my ear, I'll just hang up and watch my show in peace," Hannah threatened automatically, not even thinking of how adorable it could be to hear Jake sing. "And I mean it. Shut that off."
"I'm sorry about last night," Jake replied, making Hannah pause. He'd startled her with his sudden mention of what she hadn't thought about for a whole…almost two minutes. Her shoulders sagged a little with the humiliation back on her mind. "I didn't mean to make you run off. We're still cool, right?"
Hannah was silent. Jake sounded rather at ease, which induced the belief that he would just forget that the whole thing happened. He sounded like he'd put it out of his mind at least. So maybe Hannah hadn't gotten a prince charming out of her surge of spontaneity, but at least she hadn't lost a friend. If Jake could deal with a near disaster by brushing it off, she could too.
Right?
As long as she didn't have to look at him without his shirt on, yes.
She hoped, anyway.
"Of course," she answered softly. "I don't know what I was doing. I just—"
"Then let's not talk about it, okay?" Jake cut her off. "Have you eaten dinner yet? No, never mind, that doesn't matter. Get ready. I'm craving a burger from Fricker's, and everybody else is out tonight. Meet me outside in fifteen minutes."
The line disconnected, and Hannah lowered her phone, staring at the blank screen oddly. She was definitely living in a psych ward. After almost potentially ruining her friendship with Jake because of the most random of random kisses, Hannah had an invitation—no, a demand—to attend dinner with Jake. It was sheer madness.
Nervously, Hannah crept off of her bed and moved to her closet. She dug around behind a box and generated a package of Chips Ahoy chewy chocolate chip cookies; popping a whole cookie into her mouth for comfort, Hannah proceeded to look through her clothes, trying to find the right outfit for dinner with Jake. After thirty seconds, Hannah realized it was going to be insanely hard.
If she dressed up, Jake might think that Hannah thought it was some kind of date; then things would be awkward. If she dressed down, Jake might think that Hannah had lost interest in anything involving him; if he had asked her out for some kind of date, things would be more awkward. If she dressed in anything remotely slutty, Jake might think she was going to try to seduce him; that would definitely be even more awkward.
At a total loss of ideas, Hannah nonchalantly grabbed a purple sweater from her closet and holy jeans from her dresser. Casual felt like a smart choice.
Quickly, Hannah fixed her hair, brushed her teeth, and checked her makeup for any smudges. Satisfied—but still very nervous—she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs, wondering how she could eat and not puke everything back up.
After locking up her house, Hannah saw that Jake had driven his truck into her driveway, which was something new since he normally made her walk across the street. That made her grateful that she hadn't just worn her athletic pants. But upon getting into Jake's truck and seeing his faded jeans and Ohio State University hoodie, Hannah reassured herself that going out with him was not a date, and no matter how sad that made her, she was going to save face and try to be as relaxed as possible.
"Hungry?" Jake asked, backing out of the driveway. "I'm starving."
"I guess." Hannah watched him push a CD into his CD player and groaned. "I'm not listening to your 'new favorite song,' you know. If you turn it on, I promise I will turn it off and toss your CD out. So don't tempt me."
Jake rolled his eyes at her threat. "Easy, killer. I'm being good."
Still suspicious, Hannah eyed Jake cautiously and warned, "You'd better be." He apparently ignored her, and Hannah listened to the music. Yes, it actually deserved to be called that. A slow smile appeared on her face as the lyrics to 'Follow You Down' played through Jake's truck's speakers. "You like the Gin Blossoms?" she asked, truly impressed. "I love this song!"
"Eh." Jake shrugged easily. "It's tolerable."
"You don't talk about yourself much," Hannah observed suddenly. She wasn't sure herself where that unrelated thought had come from, but she went with it, since it got attention off of her. "I mean, you do act awfully proud of yourself sometimes, but I never hear you seriously say anything about yourself. So say something."
"That's not true," Jake argued, although he was smiling slightly. "I told you what my favorite song is." Hannah wrinkled her nose at him, and he lifted a corner of his mouth sexily. "Okay. What do you want to know?"
"Your deepest, darkest secret."
Jake cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Hannah disbelievingly. In return, she smiled sweetly, hoping that he understood she was trying to lighten the mood and prevent tension—not pressure him. "Nah. Try again."
Thoughtful, Hannah tipped her head and watched her outside surroundings as the truck whirled past them. "What's your favorite thing to do?"
"I don't know." Jake's answer was too simple; it made Hannah frown. "I guess I like hanging with the guys. Playing ball. Just doing whatever."
"You're so vague," Hannah sighed. She fidgeted with a piece of her strawberry blonde hair, trying to think of something she wanted to know about Jake. There was plenty that she'd like to know about his romantic life, his goals, his future plans, his…everything. But it seemed so mushy to ask about any of that. "Is that crazy song about jeans really your favorite?"
That earned her a light laugh from Jake. "It's okay. Anything with T-Pain in it is at least okay." He looked at Hannah curiously then. "Speaking of music…have you played anything on the piano lately? I remember a time when that was your favorite thing to do."
Ah. There went the attention back on her. Instead of pointing out that Jake had just avoided talking about himself again, Hannah sighed lengthily. "No. I thought about it when my grandma was still here, but I never did it."
"Why not?"
Hannah squirmed in her seat. The part of her brain that successfully changed topics seemed to belong to the area that her amnesia had wiped clean; she felt compelled to answer him. "What if I can't do it?" she asked quietly. "Not being able to do one of my favorite pastimes would be super depressing."
"Mm." Jake apparently was mulling that over because he didn't talk for a few minutes. Hannah kept the silence going, preferring to watch the city as Jake drove through it. "It seems like it'd be worth a try," he said finally. "You never know until you check it out."
Fortunately, that mystery part of her brain seemed to recover from its amnesia just then, as an idea for a topic changer popped into Hannah's head. "Hey…tell me about that chick Mollie's New Year's party. Libby texted me about it earlier. Do I like that Mollie?"
"She's one of Mercedes's best friends," Jake answered simply.
That meant nothing to Hannah. All she knew about Mercedes was that Jake had danced with her at Formal, and it had made Hannah want to cl
aw her eyes out. "Yeah?" she prompted. "What does that mean?"
Jake didn't answer right away, and Hannah wished he'd stop stalling and just answer her already. "Well, you got an invitation, right? How bad could you hate each other if she invited you to her house?"
"Oh." Hannah hadn't considered that. "Good point."
"Ethan actually asked me if you'd be going to that," Jake commented then. The mention of Ethan from Jake sort of made Hannah want to sulk; if Jake had liked her as more than a friend, he wouldn't mention Ethan, who was clearly crazy about Hannah, to her. "Give me an answer for him. You going?"
"Are you going?"
When Jake's head turned to give Hannah an indecipherable look, she felt her cheeks heat up. To hide it, she looked away, hoping that she wasn't blushing too badly. It had evidently come across that Hannah wasn't interested in the party unless Jake was going; considering his reaction to her kiss and how he was seemingly forgetting about it, Hannah doubted that her response had been the right one.
But then Jake just shrugged his famous shrug. "Yeah. Nothing better to do."
"Well, Libby and the other girls are going too, I think," Hannah said quickly. Mentioning her friends would surely imply that she was going for them and not Jake, right? She prayed so. "I should probably go."
Jake smiled. "Hannah Ayers…the follower."
She felt her eyes narrow without her approval. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you're following, not leading." Jake drove his truck into the parking lot of Fricker's. "That just doesn't sound too much like you."
Hannah smirked. "You're talking about me instead of you… Now that sounds exactly like you." Teasingly, she nudged her hand against Jake's forearm. "What's so bad about you that you're afraid to say?"
"Absolutely nothing."
Tipping her head again, Hannah studied Jake while he parked. "All right then, think fast, Jake. What's the wildest thing you've ever done?"
He almost grinned. "Just off the top of my head? Maybe playing hide-and-go-seek in the dark." Hannah raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Naked, of course." She stared at him speechlessly and watched the grin become more pronounced on his face. "Go ahead and ask if you were there."
"Oh God. Was I there?"
Jake laughed and turned his truck's engine off. "No." Hannah's shoulders relaxed inexplicably as Jake's grin turned cocky. "But I know you wish you were."
Mouth dropping open, Hannah slapped at Jake's arm, laughing. "There you go acting so proud of yourself again," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "It couldn't have been that impressive."
"You'd be surprised."
Hannah's nose wrinkled. "Then I guess someone very good looking was there."
"Just me." Jake smiled and pretended to shrug modestly. "The finest specimen there is in existence."
"Uh-huh…" It relieved Hannah to know that she hadn't been there; it'd be extremely embarrassing if Jake knew what she looked like undressed, without her knowing the same about him. Hannah paused and turned curious. "If you were the only good-looking one there, you must have played with some nasty slut. So who was it?"
Jake's smile turned secretive. Shaking his head, he answered, "About fifteen others. But that's my deepest, darkest secret."
Groaning to cover her interest, Hannah opened Jake's truck door, hopped down, and left him. Jealousy was eating her alive, wondering if some tramp had been all over Jake. Why wasn't she invited to play? Never mind that it sounded like something she'd be too scared to do; she at least deserved an invitation!
A moment later, Jake's truck door opened and shut. Laughing, he called after Hannah, "Slow down. You don't have to get pissy about it. I talked about me!"
In response, Hannah sent him a good view of her middle finger.
If jealousy truly turned a person green, she'd be able to double as Kermit the Frog within a minute or two.
Chapter 14
Testy Testosterone
"Do you want another Coke?"
Jake glanced up from the leather couch in the basement of Mollie White's monstrous house. Relatively amused, he shook his head at some sophomore by the name of Kaylee; she'd been trying to flirt with him since he walked into the New Year's party, but Jake wasn't taking her seriously at all.
"I could get you something else, if you'd prefer," Kaylee offered, smiling angelically.
"No, thanks," Jake answered, swishing his Coke can from side to side; he still had more than half of the can left. "I'm good."
"I'll take a Coke," Brent said from beside him. Jake elbowed his friend as Kaylee ran off, and Brent just shrugged. "She was offering. I'm just taking."
"Don't take everything she offers you," Ethan advised from the chair across from the leather couch. He tipped his bottle of root beer back, apparently draining its contents. "I heard she's got a nasty case of crabs."
"Well, I can't imagine a pleasant case of crabs," Jake replied darkly. Ethan grinned back at him as Jake took a drink from his pop. He casually glanced around the basement, granting half-smiles and exchanging nods to people that he knew. "Man, this blows. I should be home sleeping."
Brent rolled his eyes. "Jake. Seriously. This is the one night you have to stay awake longer than like…eleven. Dude."
"Yeah. There are lots of pretty girls here, man," Ethan pointed out, grinning. "Tonight could be a good night."
Jake perfected the expression of boredom. "I hate all these girls."
"You don't like these girls, you don't want to go find ghetto girls, you're against girls from Englewood…" Brent sighed and accepted a Coke from Kaylee. Impatiently, he shooed her away with his hand. "Jake, what kind of girls do you like?"
Jake made a face at Brent. "Weren't you the one saying you need a girlfriend? Worry about that, Riggs, not me."
Both Brent and Ethan mumbled something—most likely insulting, Jake figured—but he wasn't listening. Instead, he glanced around the basement again, raised his eyebrows at the group of people dancing to Michael Jackson's "Thriller," and tried to find someone to talk to instead of his friends. This was one of those times when he wished Isaac was older, just so he could have someone to talk to at parties, since Brent would be hooking up with somebody in another fifteen minutes and Ethan would soon latch on to Hannah, whenever she and her friends arrived.
Jake stole a glance at his watch. It was only nine o'clock, and he was already growing tired; he'd never make it up all night. Not only was he being forced to socialize with people that he didn't like (seeing as how Brent had made him go to Mollie's party), but he was going to be missing out on sleep, which would just make him cranky when he woke up at six in the morning. It was a terrible situation for everybody.
Glossy light brown waves caught Jake's attention. Standing by the tables where the drinks were set up was Mercedes Jensen, talking and laughing with Mollie and a few of her other friends. As usual, she looked incredible. Jake took a moment to admire her in her pretty cerulean blue halter dress; he imagined that the dress matched her eyes perfectly. Although Jake fleetingly wondered where Kirk was, the thought passed as Mercedes flicked her hair over her shoulder gently, briefly seeming annoyed by her glamorous waves.
Jake was truly addicted to that hair. Or at least he had been. Watching Mercedes brought back so many memories, particularly of the past summer. Her parents owned a cabin by Lake Erie, and when the family had taken their vacation up there, Jake had accompanied them. Long, hot days lazing in the hammock together, splashing around in the water, roasting marshmallows to the sound of frogs and crickets, snuggling under the stars until they fell asleep…it all replayed in Jake's head.
"Oh, come on. Let's crank that!"
"God, no. You know I don't dance."
The sound of Brent and Ethan arguing snapped Jake out of his daydreaming. He glanced between them and quickly understood their argument, since the opening measures of "Crank Dat, Soulja Boy" were starting and people were gathering at the dance floor. Almost amused, Jake half smiled. "Go on, Brent," he mocked. "G
o show your moves."
"Yeah!" Ethan agreed quickly. "I actually know this dance."
Scowling, Brent flipped Jake off with one hand and Ethan with the other. "I'll pass, thanks."
Jake opened his mouth to retort, but Ethan cut him off, though Jake didn't have any idea what had been said. He'd become distracted as soon as Mercedes's familiar laugh hit his ears. Glancing over, Jake saw Mercedes still talking with her friends, one of whom had apparently said something amusing. Easily, Jake tuned everything else out as his minded faded back into his memories from summer.
The weather was stifling, and Mercedes had insisted on moving into the hammock. She and Jake lied side by side, entwined with each other, watching the sun set over Lake Erie. Their shorts showed deep tans on their legs, and the sleeveless shirts they wore exposed their mild sunburns. Jake had been teasing Mercedes about something she'd said, and she'd responded by cuddling against him and ignoring the inoffensive words sweetly.
"I love you," she'd whispered against his ear. Jake's stomach had flipped over and over when he realized what she'd said. Mercedes had then gently pressed her lips to his cheek, smiled, and added, "Don't say it back if you're not ready to. But I do love you, Jake Allen."
"—Hannah too."
Once again snapping out of his daydream, Jake blinked and stared at Ethan, who had just gotten his attention. "What about Hannah?"
Seeming confused, Ethan tipped his head. "What?"
"Ethan's still trying to make me dance," Brent filled Jake in bitterly, rolling his eyes. He then proceeded to glare at Ethan as one hand gently motioned Jake's eyes in the direction of Hannah and her friends. "Just because even the amnesia chick can do the Soulja Boy dance doesn't mean that I can."
"Hey." Jake found himself unexpectedly scowling. "Don't call her that, Brent."
"Whoa…" Brent stared at Jake as if his head had just imploded. "Dude, take it easy. I was just saying."
