The Truth About Jack (Entangled Crush)

by Gehrman, Jody

  I put the golden box down in front of her.

  She eyes it suspiciously, like maybe there’s a bomb inside. “What is it?”

  “Just open it!” I hear someone say over my shoulder. Turning around, I see Joaquin standing behind me, Attila at his side. Pretty much everyone in the whole place is watching us now.

  Slowly, self-consciously, Dakota tugs at the bow, then tears into the golden paper. As she pulls the lid off the box, a riot of passionflowers spring out at her, a garland I gathered from a huge bush I found after searching the countryside at the crack of dawn. To my relief, the blossoms still look dewy fresh.

  “They’re beautiful,” she says, tears shining in her eyes.

  I hear a few sighs from here and there around the café.

  “There’s something else,” I mumble.

  “This is so messed up,” Cody tries to interject, but now several people from a nearby table shush him.

  Dakota digs around amidst the flowers and pulls out a golden envelope.

  “What is it?” A little old lady standing at the counter angles for a better view.

  Dakota tears open the envelope and pulls out the paper. She chews on her lip, one tear brimming over and spilling down her cheek. “It’s a receipt…” she says in a tentative voice, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

  “A receipt?” Cody says in a derisive voice. “For what?”

  “A ticket,” she says, her voice trembling. “First class round trip ticket to Barcelona.”

  Gasps erupt from around the room. A smattering of applause. I keep my eyes locked on Dakota, trying to read her reaction.

  “I don’t understand,” she says, meeting my gaze. “Why…?”

  “Because I’ve been listening to you, and I know what you want more than anything right now is a chance to explore and discover. It would be my honor to make that possible for you.” I pull a piece of paper out of my back pocket that matches hers. “I’ve got a ticket, too. I’m going to put off Juilliard for a year; I believe in everything we talked about. We’re young! We should get to know the world before we try to make art; we should have experiences now, while everything’s still new and full of magic. It makes sense. All of it.”

  “So…you’re going with me?” she asks, perplexed.

  “I’m going, yeah. You convinced me this is what I want, too. But if you want to sit on opposite ends of the plane and never even speak, that’s okay. If you want to go off and explore on your own, I can accept that.” I lower my voice, blocking out everyone around us, getting lost in her eyes. “I just wanted to make this happen for you. Well, my gran helped me out. I can’t take all the credit.”

  For a moment, the room goes totally silent. Everyone’s watching Dakota, waiting for her to speak, to buoy my hopes or crush them with a word. For a terrifying few seconds that seem to last forever, I fear I’ve done everything wrong. Maybe she’ll feel pressured by my extravagance; maybe she never really wanted to go in the first place, and now she’ll feel guilty about all that wasted money. My big dream is on display before a room full of people, and I’ve never felt so exposed.

  Then I realize, either way, I can survive—whether she accepts the offer or rejects it, at least I gave her everything I had to give. I wasn’t afraid to risk it all and, because of that, I can accept whatever fate she dishes out.

  Suddenly she springs up out of her chair, puts her hand on my arm, and stares into my eyes. “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you.”

  “Does that mean you’ll go?”

  She flashes a coy grin. “Yes. And you don’t even have to sit on the other side of the plane, though once we get there, all bets are off.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.” And then I do something I never imagined I could do in front of a room full of spectators: I pull her close and press my lips to hers, and I pour everything into this kiss.

  At first she’s too surprised to move. But then I feel her arms wrap around me, her small hands deliciously cool against the back of my neck. Her mouth tastes like chai—sweet and spicy, exotic and familiar. I tighten my grip on the small of her back, pulling her even closer, feeling the delicate circle of her waist, the miracle of her body pressing against mine.

  The café erupts in cheers.

  Epilogue

  Dakota

  I’m standing in front of the Magic Fountain of Montjuïc. Twilight has turned the sky a rich, satiny lavender, and the air is perfumed with a pungent mixture of jasmine and singed garlic. Today I’ve explored the gothic quarter Anya told me all about; I bought a red satin change purse at an old shop that smelled of figs, and I met a little old woman who sold me mango ice cream from a cart.

  I take a deep breath, savoring the moment. I’m here! I’m really here. My gap year is finally happening. Every day my Spanish gets better, more fluent, and I meet new people as I wander—some of them fellow travelers, some locals. My sketchbook is quickly filling with new ideas and images. Yesterday I spent three hours trying to capture the curvaceous detail of Gaudi’s Casa Batllo.

  Best of all, though, I’m growing. I can feel the pleasures and the challenges of my journey etching their designs into my bones. Every day I’m forced to dig deeper into my self and find resources I never knew were there. I’m like a snake, shedding my skin and emerging as something new. The old me is still there somewhere, cozy and familiar, but this new me is someone I like even better.

  “There you are!”

  I turn and there he is, beaming at me. His thick black hair has grown so long it now grazes the tops of his shoulders. Speaking of shoulders, his are sculpted and brown from long days spent carrying a heavy pack in the sun. He looks amazing in army surplus shorts and a white ribbed tank.

  “Here I am,” I say, letting his infectious smile kindle my own.

  He pulls me close and kisses me hard on the mouth. His lips are soft and his hands are so warm on my waist I find myself nestling even closer, running my fingers through his hair. It’s a great kiss, full of warmth and friendship and much, much more.

  “Did you have fun?” he asks, eyes shining.

  “I did.” I show him my new satin change purse.

  “Fantastic! Love the color.” He hands it back to me. “I met a man from Tasmania doing a documentary on Spanish prostitutes.”

  Jack always meets the most fascinating characters. Put him in a room full of people and he’ll immediately strike up a conversation with the one dude who has the craziest stories, the most whimsical views on life and love. It’s a real talent, and one of the many things that make traveling with him such an adventure.

  “You ready to get a bite?” he asks, still gripping my waist. “I hear this place downtown has the most amazing paella.”

  “Yes! I’m ravenous.”

  He starts pulling me away from the fountain, but impulsively I tug him back. He looks confused.

  “You okay?”

  I touch his face. “Yes.”

  “I thought you wanted to eat.”

  “I do,” I say. “In a minute. First, I want to savor this moment with you, by this fountain, under this sky.”

  He kisses my nose very gently.

  “I want to remember this forever, standing here with the guy who is Jack Sauvage and Alejandro Torres all in one.”

  He groans. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

  “No,” I say, feeling so happy I think I might burst. “Never.”

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  Acknowledgments

  First I have to thank my brilliant agent, Bree Ogden, for her tireless work on my behalf. A big thanks to Stacy Abrams and Nan
cy Cantor for their meticulous attention to detail in editing this book, and their occasional LOLs to keep my spirits up. Everyone at Entangled deserves a massive round of applause for their innovative, energetic push to get great books into the hands of readers everywhere. Also thanks to my friends and fellow writers who read early incarnations: Terena Scott, Natasha Yim, and Gretchen Maurer. Many thanks to book bloggers everywhere, but especially to Young Adult book bloggers. Your willingness to review books, sponsor contests and post interviews really does make a huge difference. Lastly, thanks to my family, especially my husband and my cats, for putting up with me through neurotic freak-outs and writerly shame spirals; a girl couldn’t ask for more love.

  About the Author

  Jody Gehrman is the author of nine novels, one novella, and numerous plays. Her Young Adult novel Babe in Boyland won the International Reading Association Teen Choice Award and was optioned by the Disney Channel. Her plays have been produced or had staged readings in Ashland, New York, San Francisco, Chicago, and L.A. She and her partner David Wolf won the New Generation Playwrights Award for their one-act, Jake Savage, Jungle P.I. She has a Masters Degree in Professional Writing from the University of Southern California and is a Professor of English and Communications at Mendocino College.

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