The Truth About Jack (Entangled Crush)

by Gehrman, Jody

  “You’re a perceptive young man, Jack.” Gran’s voice is so full of tenderness, I can feel myself tearing up again. “I’m sure you know the answer.”

  “She needs a new plan,” I say. “Something to make her believe in magic.”

  Her eyes light up. “Tell me more…”

  …

  Dakota

  The next morning, I wake up with puffy eyes and a mangled bed. I tossed and turned all night, kicking the covers and getting so twisted up in the sheets I could barely breathe. Four or five times I got up and stalked around my yurt like a caged animal. I tried to sketch an idea for a new sculpture, but I hated everything I came up with. After crumpling up like fifteen sheets of really good drawing paper, I finally hurled my notebook across the room in a fit of rage. Around three I managed to drift into some semblance of sleep, but my dreams were like devilish imps poking and prodding me mercilessly.

  And now someone’s knocking on my door. It’s—I look at my bedside clock—eight in the morning. Whoever it is, they’ll soon wish they never set foot on my porch.

  “Go away!” I grumble, fluffing a pillow and burying my head under it.

  “Dakota? It’s me.”

  I pull the pillow away. “Cody?” What the hell?

  “Can I come in?” He sounds all meek.

  “No!”

  There’s a long pause, and for a second I wonder if he actually listened to me for once and left. I know he’s still out there, though. I didn’t hear footsteps, and the walls of my yurt are just canvas, after all. You can hear everything through them.

  Well, I can’t have him sitting out there all morning. Dad or someone else will take him in like a stray pup. That’s all I need—getting the whole community involved. Before you know it River, Cody, and I will be immersed in some nightmarish group therapy session, with everyone urging us to process our issues.

  “Okay, okay, hold on. I’m coming.” I flop out of bed and stumble over to my full-length mirror. My eyes are bloodshot and my hair’s ratted up wildly on one side, while it’s completely flat on the other. My rumpled tank top and baggie boxer shorts only add to my slovenly appearance. I look like the mad woman in the attic. Well, if he came here looking for pretty, he’s out of luck.

  Cody knocks again. “Dakota, please?”

  “Hold on!” I roar. The last thing I want is Cody in my yurt. It’s way too intimate in here.

  “Okay.” He sounds a little frightened.

  I fling open the door after a super quick tooth brushing (I’m not planning on kissing him, but I do have some hygiene standards). He’s slouching on the porch in his Che Guevara T-shirt and old brown cords, his dark blond hair damp. He looks skinny and sleep-deprived and a tiny bit pathetic.

  “Come to breakfast with me,” he says. “Please.”

  “Why?” I cross my arms and lean against the doorjamb, a little pleased by his sorry state, though I know I shouldn’t be.

  “Because I think I’m in love with you.” Before I can react to that, he pulls a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket and holds it out. “I wrote you a poem last night. Actually, I wrote you twenty poems, but this is the only one you get to see.”

  “Seriously?” I take it and start to open it, but he clamps a hand over mine.

  “Don’t read it in front of me!” He looks mortified. “Come on. I’d die of shame.”

  “Okay, jeez, calm down.”

  “So will you come have breakfast with me?” He flashes me a crooked smile.

  I rub my face, trying to wake up. Did he seriously just tell me he loves me? We’ve never even used the L-word before. I’m still reeling from the newness of it. Did he mean “love” as in passionate, undying devotion or “love” as in I love chocolate ice cream?

  He inches a little closer. “Eating eggs together doesn’t mean you have to forgive me.”

  “I don’t like eggs,” I grumble.

  “But you do like scones. I know that much.”

  I can’t hide my smile. “Yeah, okay, I like scones. Some scones. Not the gross sugary kind.”

  “I know a place that makes amazing scones.” He inches even closer.

  “Where?” I take a step back and look at him sideways. I can’t help wondering if he’s talking about his favorite place for breakfast, this grimy little hole in the wall in Bodega. “You better not be talking about that disgusting diner.”

  He laughs. “You know me too well!”

  “Let’s make it Café Vida,” I say. “I have to be at work later. It’s right by there.”

  “Okay. Whatever you say.” He looks past me, his gaze moving around the yurt. A smug look of triumph lights up his face. “I see you still have my picture up.”

  We both gaze at the woodblock print of a whale hanging above my bed. I’ve been meaning to take it down, but haven’t gotten around to it.

  “It’s beautiful, even if the guy who gave it to me turned out to be a jerk.”

  “Ouch.” He puts one hand over his heart.

  I fix him with a look. “This doesn’t mean anything. We’re just having breakfast.”

  “If saying that makes you feel better, then absolutely.” His brown eyes sparkle with mischief.

  “Let me comb my hair and put on something decent.”

  He glances quickly at my bare legs—not a Miles style leer, but enough to show me he’s noticed. “You look great.”

  “Shut up,” I say, still grumpy.

  He grabs my wrist and pulls me closer. “I miss you so much.”

  “Easy.” I wriggle free. “I’m not even awake yet. Wait out here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I dart inside and quickly change into a T-shirt, hoodie, and jeans. My head’s awash with sleep-deprived, sluggish thoughts. It feels good to know Cody’s hung up on me, I can’t deny that. It’s not just an ego boost, either; Miles showing interest in me was an ego boost, a little reminder that I’m not hideous. Cody professing his love for me means a little more, because he’s someone I really do care about, someone I’ve spent way too much time thinking about over the past year. Still, I know I’m not in love with him. Not now, not ever. Even when we were new, he didn’t make me feel the way Jack does. He could never look into my eyes and pull secrets from my depths. Cody and I could never talk for hours on end the way Jack and I do, moving seamlessly from furniture design to my parents’ divorce to his fear of goats all in one breathless afternoon. Cody might think he’s in love with me, but what we share isn’t love. It’s affection and friendship, but nothing more.

  Now that I know Jack lied to me, I have no idea what to do with all the feelings I have for him. Just thinking about him fills me with a cocktail of hope and wonder and pain all mixed together. I thought he was so sincere, so real. Our talks never felt staged or dishonest in any way. If he pretended to be Alejandro, though, if he lied to me so easily, can I trust anything about our connection?

  The memory of the conversation I overheard yesterday makes my stomach clench with anger. Why would Jack, who has every reason in the world to feel confident, hide behind a fake identity? Did he do it as a joke? It seems so unlike him. Either he wrote those letters as a mean-spirited prank or he wrote them to hide some secret insecurity. Neither possibility sounds like the Jack I know.

  Then I think about the stuff “Alejandro” wrote in his letters. In his very first one, he confessed that when it rains he thinks about his best friend who ODed. That really happened. Jack told me about it one day at the beach, and Miles mentioned it, too, when he was trying to convince me Jack was a crazy tweaker. Jack’s voice got kind of shaky when he told me about his friend Will and how he died; I could see how hard it was for him to talk about. When I asked more questions, he changed the subject, I think because he didn’t want to break down in front of me.

  Maybe Jack needed to approach me as Alejandro at first so he could admit the hardest truths about his life. He may be gorgeous, talented, and rich, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to insecurity. Was i
t such a crime to create Alejandro if he did it in order to feel safe with me?

  I can’t help inwardly groaning at the twisted irony of the situation. Here I am, about to have breakfast with a boy who claims he loves me. All the while, I can’t stop thinking about the guy I’m afraid I might love, a guy whose identity I’m not even sure of anymore. Is Jack a player, a liar, a fake? Or is his only crime going to great lengths to get close to me?

  Why does this whole situation get more confusing the more I think about it?

  For now, I need to just concentrate on getting some breakfast. An extra-large chai should set my brain in motion. Maybe then I can navigate the chaotic house of mirrors my life’s become.

  …

  Jack

  “Hurry up!” I lean forward in my seat and stare at the speedometer. “Can’t this ole rust bucket go any faster?”

  “Your mother will be furious if I go over the speed limit,” Attila says.

  Joaquin, sitting next to me in the backseat, takes my side. “Come on, man, it’s an emergency! Do you want to be careful, or do you want Jack to get his girl?”

  In answer, Attila passes the Prius in front of us, stepping hard on the accelerator. When we finally pull up in front of Anya’s Garden, I leap out of the Rolls, my pulse racing.

  The glare on the plate-glass display window makes it hard to see who’s working behind the counter. I grip the gift I brought, its sharp edges cutting into my palms. I pray the shiny gold paper and sparkly bow Gran suggested aren’t too ostentatious. The door jangles as I push my way into the little herb shop, ready to deliver my speech. The woman behind the counter isn’t Dakota, though. It’s the blond woman I’ve met a couple times now briefly, Anya.

  She looks surprised to see me. “Hi there. Jack, right?”

  “Yeah.” I’m glad she remembered me, knows my name even. Maybe it means Dakota’s mentioned me here and there. “How are you?”

  “I’m great! You looking for Dakota, or did you have a sudden craving for chamomile tea?” Her tone is teasing, but not unkind. She catches sight of my ridiculous package and bites her lip, trying not to smile.

  “Chamomile tea sounds delicious,” I say, trying to temper my determination with a little levity. I don’t want her to think I’m crazy. “But yeah, I’m looking for Dakota.”

  “Quite the gift you’ve got there.”

  I can feel my face turning crimson. Suddenly the little shop feels way too warm. Tiny beads of sweat start to break out on my forehead. “You don’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

  Her expression goes from amused to something else…Contrite? Worried? “She doesn’t start work for another hour.”

  “Oh.” Even I can hear how dejected I sound.

  She hesitates, then adds, “I don’t know if I should mention this, but I did see her go into Café Vida about half an hour ago.”

  “Great! Maybe she’s still there.” I lunge for the door.

  “With Cody.”

  I jerk back around, taken aback. “Cody? The Cody?”

  She nods, her eyes full of pity. “Yeah.”

  I run a hand through my hair. What’s this mean? Breakfast with Cody? I thought he was in Rhode Island. Did he come back last night, just in time for her to run into his arms? After she tore away from Pinot Noir in such a black mood, did she find him on her doorstep full of apologies and smooth moves? Is this their morning-after breakfast, time to cuddle over tea and scones, their night of passion in her little yurt still fresh and vivid in their memories?

  “Jack?” Anya’s voice tugs me back from that dizzying precipice.

  “Yeah?”

  “She really likes you. I know that much.” She nods at the box. “And any girl would definitely want to know what’s in there.”

  I hold it up, hope springing free from where it’s coiled tightly inside my chest. “You don’t think it’s too…over the top?”

  “Not at all.” She smiles. “Now go!”

  …

  Dakota

  I pick at my scone listlessly. Cody, who never could handle his coffee, has been talking nonstop for like twenty minutes about RISD—professors he loved, professors he hated, parties he went to, projects he worked on. In spite of the chai working electric tendrils of energy into my veins, I can feel my lack of sleep. It’s like a layer of grime coating the inside of my mouth. Cody looks like a stranger to me right now, like someone I might have known once but can’t quite place.

  “I’m moving out of the dorms and into a house when I go back,” he says, his voice brimming with excitement. “It’s an old Victorian.”

  “Cool,” I say without enthusiasm.

  “Yeah, it’s amazing—turrets and porches, the whole nine.” He gives me a pointed look. “There’s a room they haven’t rented yet.”

  I just stare at him, unsure of where he’s going with this. Surely he’s not suggesting…?

  “You could move in next month. We could fly back together. That way you’d have some time to explore before we start school in the fall.”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

  He laughs. “Don’t look so surprised!”

  “Wait, you want me to live with you?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Why not?” When my expression remains the same, he backpedals a little. “I mean we’d have our own rooms and everything; it’s a house with five other people. So it’s not like we’d be in each other’s space all the time.”

  “Right,” I answer faintly.

  He seems encouraged by this. “We’d be roommates, you know? But hopefully more, too, if that’s what you want.”

  “Where did all this come from?” I look away, not wanting him to see the anger in my face, though I can’t keep the indignation from my voice. “You make out with my best friend and don’t even bother to contact me for months. Then you show up out of the blue and want me to move in with you?”

  He leans across the table toward me, his face full of eager sincerity. “I’m trying to do the right thing, D. I know I screwed up. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I really think I can make it up to you.”

  “Make it up to me?” I repeat, stunned.

  “You have no idea how lonely it can be, starting college in a new place all alone.”

  “You weren’t all alone.” My tone is bitter. “You had River.”

  He looks pained but presses on. “I can help you get settled and meet people. We don’t have to be anything but friends. I hate that you’re considering not even going to RISD. I feel terrible about that. It’s an amazing place. You’re going to love it there.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re trying to make yourself feel better.”

  “Don’t be like that.” He sounds wounded. “I just want to be with you.”

  Miles comes over to our table then, bringing me a fresh chai. “Thought you might want another.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  Cody eyes him suspiciously, but Miles doesn’t even spare him a sideways glance. He runs a hand over his pompadour and locks eyes with me, pointedly ignoring Cody. “Do you want to go to a party tonight? My friend John’s throwing a kegger out at the beach.”

  Wow, he’s got some nerve. Cody looks a little shell-shocked. I haven’t seen Miles since that day when Jack laid into him and he told me all those lies about Jack being a tweaker. That’s all I need—another guy feeding me lies.

  “No, thanks,” I say to Miles, my tone cool and distant. “I’m done with guys who lie.”

  Cody flashes a triumphant smile. I want to tell him I’m not turning Miles down because of him, but I can’t bring myself to be that blatantly rude. Miles retreats behind the counter again, clearly miffed. I look out the window, wishing I could be anywhere but here.

  Just when I think this morning can’t possibly get more confusing, I see Jack charging through the door clutching a shiny gold package.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jack

  I can’t hesitate. I know if I let myself think for two seconds
about what I’m doing, I’ll get all self-conscious. Instead, I plunge ahead, remembering Joaquin’s advice about faking confidence when you need it most.

  As soon as I spot her with the skinny hipster, I’m filled with the possessive urge to shove him right out of his chair. I resist the impulse. Last time I was here I lost my shit with Miles, and Dakota ended up thinking I was a drug-addled freak. This time, I’m just going to tell her the truth and deal with the consequences.

  Attila and Joaquin trail in behind me. They shut the door and stand there, blocking my exit like a couple of stone-faced bouncers. They don’t need to bother. I’m not going to try weaseling out of it this time.

  I know what I want and I came here to get it.

  I turn back to see Dakota staring at me, her expression unreadable.

  Okay, Sauvage. It’s now or never.

  I stride across the café right up to her table. This must be Cody. He’s all skinny and emo-cool, eyeing me with curious, bright eyes. Then he sees me looking at Dakota, and his face ices over. I wonder if she’s told him about me. Whatever. It’s not him I came here to see.

  “Jack.” She gazes up at me with those vivid blue eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “I know this is awkward,” I begin. My pulse races, but I force myself to speak in a clear, unwavering voice. “You’re here with him, and maybe you’ve decided he’s the one.”

  Cody emits a sound of disbelief. “Who the hell is—?”

  Dakota shushes him, though, which gives me the shot of courage I need to keep going.

  “I won’t deny anything—I screwed up when I lied to you. I know that. But I really like you, Dakota. In fact, I’m in love with you.”

  Cody tries to butt in again. “Whoa, man, this is—”

  “Let me finish,” I say, a little too loudly. I can feel people turning toward us from all around the café—hippies and children and old people. The place is packed, and though I don’t mean to, I’m obviously providing them with a show. “The day I found your message in a bottle, I knew I had to meet you. You’re brilliant and funny and beautiful—you’re everything I ever wanted in a girl. And even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I still think you should have whatever you need. So here it is. I hope it’s the thing you crave most right now, the call to adventure you’ve been waiting for.”