"Jake," she said. "I told you he was acting funny. He took that picture of you off my fridge and ripped it right in half."
My heart sank, and my face must have fallen as well, because Bill instantly stepped in.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't know why he would have done something like that." He looked at his wife like he just couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I know he's not mad at Kristen or anything," he continued. "Because when we were on the boat, we both mentioned what a God-send she was."
I couldn't even really appreciate what he was saying because my head was swimming. The things they were saying seemed all over the map—I hardly knew which way was up.
"No, no, he didn't tear the picture into pieces or anything," Jana explained. "He just ripped it in half, right down the middle, and he put the part with Kristen on it in his pocket."
"You mean it had somebody else on it?" Bill asked, looking at his wife like he still didn’t understand.
"Yes, honey. It was that picture we had on the front of the fridge. The one with Kristen and Preston from Abigail's wedding."
"And you're saying Jacob stood in our kitchen and ripped it in half?"
"Yes," she said.
"And he put half of it in his pocket?" Bill asked.
Jana nodded.
"What'd he do with the other half?"
"He threw it in the trash can."
"Our trash can?"
"Yes," Jana said.
"And, he did all this right in front of you?"
Jana nodded again.
They both looked at each other and then focused on me with matching looks of bewilderment. I shot them a confused look of my own.
I managed to appear perplexed, but it was all I could do to keep a huge, goofy grin from spreading across my face.
"That is really weird," I said, even though I wanted to squeal and ask her to recount every single detail about the encounter. "He didn’t say anything about doing that when I saw him before the game," I said. "He didn’t ask me about volunteering either."
"I don't think he likes Preston very much," Bill said. "Maybe that's why he did that. I mentioned taking him fishing when we were on the boat today, and Jake told me not to do it."
Jana turned to me raising her eyebrows. "Maybe he's jealous," she said, shrugging as if the thought had just occurred to her.
"Well, he'd be a smart man to have eyes for Kristen," Bill said sweetly. He threw it out there on account of Jake's odd behavior, but like me, neither of them thought a love connection between me and Jake would ever be a real possibility.
I just kept imagining him throwing that picture of Preston in the garbage. I remembered how he had looked at me when he came over to my house before the game. I tried to make sense of it all, but I realized there was only one way to find out what was going on. I had to call Jake.
I let out a sigh, trying to act casual in spite of the fact that I was aching to go in and call him. "Well, I guess I'm gonna head inside," I said nonchalantly.
"You're welcome to stay out here with us," Jana said. "There's some chocolate cake in the refrigerator. Bill was just about to cut himself a slice."
"I sure was if you want some," Bill offered.
"Thank you, but I had some ice cream at the—"
I stopped talking when we heard someone let themselves into the gate. I expected, hoped I would see Jake standing there, but it wasn't. It was Preston. My heart dropped, and I felt a mixture of disappointment and aggravation, wondering what he was doing. He saw that we were on the other side of the terrace, and he waved and headed over.
"I got a mile or two down the road, and I realized you forgot this," he said, talking to me. It was mostly dark out, so it took me a second to focus on what he was holding.
Really?
It was the little, plastic, fake batting helmet that I had eaten ice cream out of at the ballpark. It didn't even have the Marlin's logo on it. They were out of those. It was some random team with a big T on the front. It was completely insignificant, and I couldn’t believe he had taken the time to bring it back to me… I had almost thrown it away at the stadium.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, trying to be cordial, even though I felt like I wanted to snap. I walked toward him so he didn't have to come all the way to where we were standing. The last thing I wanted was for him to get comfortable and start talking to Bill and Jana. "You definitely didn't have to bring that back," I said.
"I didn't want you to forget your souvenir."
I smiled though I was extremely impatient and felt more like I wanted to scream. "Night, y'all!" I turned and yelled at Bill and Jana from over my shoulder. They both yelled responses to me, but I just kept walking toward the gate to meet Preston. "I'll walk you to your car," I said.
"You don't have to do that," Preston said, hesitating, moving slowly.
"Okay," I agreed, reaching out to open the gate as a hint for him to walk through it. He was a nice guy, and I hated that I was in a hurry, but I was dying to talk to Jake. I was so flustered about it that I knew my face was turning red. "Thanks for bringing this back," I said with an edge of finality.
He smiled and leaned in to try to embrace me, which I did not want to happen at all.
"You're welcome," he said.
I was reluctant to go into his arms, and he could tell. He gave me a little resigned shrug before playing it off by kissing me on the cheek.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said.
I did my best to smile when I said, "Okay."
Chapter 12
I took a deep breath when I made it into my house. I started to text Jake right then, but I took a second to compose my thoughts and figure out what I wanted to say.
First, I needed to make sure that Preston was gone.
He had startled me by coming back, and it left me feeling like I needed to check and make sure he was gone for good. I couldn’t see the driveway from my living room window, so I went to my bedroom. The blinds were closed, but I stood close to the window, lifting one of them so that I could peek through.
Preston had already driven away. There were only three vehicles in the driveway, and none of them were his. I breathed a sigh, feeling relieved. I sat on the edge of my bed. My plan was to gather my wits for a few seconds so that I could send Jake a text.
My mind shot from here to there—my thoughts all over the place. I thought of Preston and the ice cream helmet. I thought of Bill and Jana, and the chocolate cake in the fridge.
Mostly, I thought of things they said about Jake. A whole stream of memories poured into my mind. The ripped photograph, the conversations Jake had with them, the conversation he had with me before the game—the way he had looked at me.
I thought back to our encounter.
He had said that I shouldn't put my face next to his face, and he was making a distinct expression—one I had never seen him make before. It was one Preston made all the time, but I had never seen Jake do it. Desire. It was like he wanted me. Did he want me? Maybe he didn't want me, want me… maybe not long-term. But in those seconds, he wanted me.
I tried to ignore the body language when it was happening—tried to tell myself that I was mistaken and that I was misreading him. But, even now, I remembered his countenance. I could picture his intensity. I knew he was looking at my mouth, not as a brother or a dad looks at your mouth, not as a friend looks at your mouth. He was regarding me like a man regarded a woman.
I didn't have time to appreciate it when it was happening. Heck, even if I had the time, I wouldn't have let myself hope that it was actually happening.
I sat there, feeling paralyzed.
I wanted so badly to call him, but I was scared to death. I wasn't scared of things changing between us—I was more scared of them not changing. After the look I saw on his face, and the way it made me completely lose any chemistry I had with Preston, I was terrified of things going back to normal with us. I feared there was a reason for the way Jake looked at me that afternoon—a perfectly good explanation as to why he
had stared at me so intensely.
I sat on the foot of my bed, wanting to text him but unable to make myself do so. Mostly because I wanted to enjoy the feeling of hope for a little while longer. The closer I got to deciding to call or text Jake, the more my heart hammered.
I stared at my phone, unable to breathe properly. I really couldn't catch my breath or find a steady breathing pattern.
Finally, I just made myself do it.
I went to the text app and typed his name. I felt like I was outside of my own body, watching myself.
Me: "Hey, I think I mentioned texting you earlier… so I’m texting."
I included an emoji of a smiley-face—a non-committal one that wasn't showing too much teeth.
With shaking hands, I read it three times before deciding to change it.
I erased the whole thing and started over.
Me: "Hey, I made it home from the game."
I read that one, and then erased it before going back to the first one—or something really similar.
I added that same smiling emoji and only read it through once before making myself press the dreaded send button.
I held my breath as I stared at the screen.
In my mind, he had the phone right next to him, and he had already picked it up and was currently reading the words. And in my mind, he was relieved to hear from me, and he was smiling as he read the text. I could just see his dimples.
I smiled at myself for having such visions.
I was in the process of setting my phone onto the bed beside me when it rang. It was Jake, and rather than text me back he was calling.
I was not prepared for this.
I wanted to text so that I could think about what I was going to say before I said it.
But, even more than that, I wanted to hear his voice. I only hesitated for a few seconds before pressing the button to connect the call.
"Hello?" I said, putting it on speaker phone since I was alone in the room. My face was already hot, and I didn't want to hold the phone up to it.
"Hey, K.K."
And there it was.
Disappointment washed over me when he called me that. I was Kristen earlier when he was looking at me like he could eat me alive.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual and curious.
"Are you back from the game?"
"Yeah."
Thank the Lord for questions that only require a one-word answer because I was just that breathless. How pitiful, after all these years.
"Where are you?" he asked. "At home?"
"Yeah."
"Is that guy still there?"
Bam, bam, bam, my heart absolutely hammered.
"No."
He didn't speak right away, so I added, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to see if you wanted to come over," Jake said. "Or I could go over there. Or we could meet somewhere… the beach… if you want."
"Okay," I said feeling so very curious. "Did you want to ask me about volunteering?"
"No, why?"
"I don't know. I thought you were curious about it."
"What made you think that?"
Quickly, I tried to remember what Bill and Jana had told me. I felt flustered, like maybe I had already said too much.
"I was talking to Bill or Jana and they mentioned… one of them mentioned… I can't remember which one… it was a quick conversation… it seems like they said something about you maybe being interested in, I don't know, volunteering… I could be wrong."
I cringed at how nervous I sounded and how I was rambling. I was so out-of-my-mind with nerves that I couldn’t even tell if I had just given away that I knew about the picture ripping.
I tried to catch my breath, cringing as I waited for him to respond to my words, which may or may not have made sense.
"What else did Bill and Jana tell you?" he asked.
My heart. The pounding was relentless. If I was having this hard of a time talking to him on the phone, I couldn't imagine what it would be like trying to do this in person.
"What? Nothing. I've been at the game. Why?"
"Because I ripped that guy off of your picture today right in front of Aunt Jana, and I think it freaked her out. I'm surprised she didn't mention it to you."
I almost pretended to have no idea what he was talking about, but in those seconds, I opted for being honest—at least partially.
"She was saying something about a picture, but I didn't really get it, and then Preston came back over to give me this souvenir that I had left in his car, so we didn't get to finish our conversation."
I felt a little weird brining up Preston, but I needed some way out of the picture ripping conversation without letting on how much I knew.
"I really hate to say it like this, K.K., but I don't want to hear anything about that guy. I know you're seeing him or whatever, and I'm not trying to be mean… but I really don't even want to hear about him going over to my aunt and uncle's house."
I was quiet for the next few seconds, and then Jake let out a sigh.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have said that."
"No, it's fine… I didn't… when he came back, I didn't really… it's fine. You're not hurting my feelings or anything."
"How was the game?" he asked.
"Fine. Good. Long. We lost, but it was a good game."
A few seconds of charged silence passed between us. They were charged on my end, at least.
"I was hoping to see you tonight," Jake said, finally.
"Yeah, that's fine. I could go there, or you can come here. Or the beach, like you said."
***
Jake and I figured out a place to meet, and it took me all of four minutes to clean myself up and change clothes.
I wiped the stadium sweat off of myself with a damp washcloth that had a spritz of essential oil mix. I figured it was better to smell like citrus and jasmine than hotdogs and sweat. I had pulled my hair into a ponytail while we were at the game, and rather than deal with changing it, I left it that way.
Not even thirty minutes after Jake and I hung up, I was pulling up in a parking spot at the beach.
Jake was already there, and I parked next to his truck. It was a stretch of beach we had gone to with friends countless times over the years, so I knew right where he would be parked. I quickly noticed that he had already gotten out of his truck and was standing next to a nearby picnic table.
I put my car in gear and turned off the ignition, taking one last deep breath before putting my feet on the pavement.
"Hey, Jakey-baby," I said as I closed the car door. I wanted so badly to be casual and carefree in this moment that the nickname just came out of my mouth.
Jake stretched upward, putting both of his hands on the branch of a tree that was overhanging the picnic table. It was just high enough that he had to stand on his toes to reach it. It was an antsy gesture on his part, but it happened to show the muscles in his arms and the exact shape of his chest and stomach.
There were streetlights all around, but the one closest to us was blocked by the tree. It was fairly dark where he was standing, but I could still see plenty. I had a hard time looking directly at him.
"What are you, a monkey?" I asked as I approached. I reached out to poke Jake's ribs, and he dropped his hands from the branch, causing the whole canopy to shake above our heads.
I glanced upward, at the branch and then at him. He was staring straight at me as he dusted off his hands.
"Do you want to walk by the water?" he asked.
"Sure," I said with a shrug.
Both of us turned and headed toward the shore. I left my shoes by the trailhead and opted to walk barefoot. I loved the familiar feel of sand shifting between my toes. The soft static-sound of crashing waves served as white noise in the background, and I was extremely grateful for it because my heart was pounding so loudly that I thought it might be audible. If Jake couldn’t hear my heart, then he could probably hear me panting as I struggled to regulate my breat
hing.
There was really no reason for me to be this nervous, and I tried to tell myself that. It was a casual walk with a man I had known for years—one I was completely comfortable around.
I reminded myself of this as we made our way toward the shore. This beach was busy during the day, but there were only a few small groups of people out there that night.
"You smell like something familiar," he said walking next to me.
I lifted my arm and took a whiff of the outside of my forearm, seeing if I could figure out what was familiar to him.
"I smelled like a baseball game when I got home, so I used a little bit of this oil mix before I came over here. I think it has lemon and orange, some jasmine, and maybe vanilla. My sister's all into essential oils. It's a mixture she made for me."
Jake reached out for my arm—the one I had been sniffing. He brought it up to his face, gently pressing my forearm to his nose and mouth. I felt and heard him take a long breath through his nose. He was holding onto my arm with both of his hands, and it was touching his nose and mouth. I tried to keep walking, but I couldn’t—I was so weak and distracted by the feel of his touch that my feet stopped working.
I had been aching for his touch for so long that it literally paralyzed me to finally feel it. My heart felt heavy in my chest, like it was hot and melted. I just stopped walking and stared at Jake, wondering what in the world he was doing. His eyes were closed as he breathed in the smell of my arm. His mouth was gently touching my forearm, and when I saw it there, I experienced a wave of desire that made me feel like I could actually pass out.
He opened his eyes, smiling at me. "I think I can smell the lemon," he said. "But it's hard for me to distinguish anything separate, really. It just smells like fruit or flowers. I love it, though. I think it might be the best thing I've ever smelled."
He still had a hold of my arm, and he grinned at me as he vigorously rubbed it on the front of his chest. "I'm gonna get some on my shirt so I can save it for later."
The funny thing was that he was the one who smelled good. I was the one who should be hoping his smell would rub off on me. I felt like I had stepped into some backwards world.
Something Precious (Miami Stories Book 3) Page 9
