Believe in Us (Jett #2)

by Amy Sparling

She lifts an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t parents, like, be mad about that?”

  I lead her into my room and close the door behind us. “My parents don’t get mad about sex. They were teen parents, after all. My mom has practically raised me on a mantra of knowing how to respect women and knowing about safe sex and stuff.”

  She seems equal parts horrified and impressed. “My mom only ever told me that if I get knocked up she’ll kick me out.” She snorts and sits on my futon. “Turns out I didn’t have to get pregnant to have her leave me.”

  I sink into the plush mattress next to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, babe.”

  She leans on my chest and reaches for the remote. “It’s cool.”

  “It’s really not cool. What your mom did sucked. But I’m here for you.”

  Her chest rises as she takes in a deep breath. “Let’s just relax tonight and not talk about any of that crap, okay?”

  I brush her hair out of her eyes and lean down to kiss her forehead. “Sure.”

  We cuddle and watch a few episodes of our favorite shows for a while, and it feels good but it also feels like something is on her mind. Her shoulders are tense and she keeps biting her bottom lip. She doesn’t laugh during the funny parts and we always laugh during the funny parts.

  During the credits, Keanna sits up and stretches, then takes off her shoes and kicks them to the side. She faces me while I’m still sitting on the futon.

  “What’s up?” I ask when she doesn’t sit back down.

  “You’re really hot,” she says with a smirk.

  The quick flash of desire in her eyes is enough to get me all turned on. I move the remote from my lap to the armrest and beckon for her to come here. She walks forward, leans over and puts a hand on the back of the futon and then straddles my lap.

  “You’re the hot one here,” I say, leaning forward to kiss her. She slides her hands around my neck and I grab her hips, pulling her closer to me. “Especially in this shirt,” I whisper into her ear. She squirms and I slide my hands under her shirt, which was taken from my closet the last time she was here. My fingers trail up her sides, her skin soft and prickling with goosebumps.

  “Why did I buy all those sexy shirts if stealing one from you does the trick?” she says, cocking her head.

  I dip my head into the crook of her neck and trail kisses up to her ear. “To be fair, you’re hot in anything you wear,” I whisper. My thumbs slide up her chest and graze under her breasts. Her breath hitches and she leans into me, rocking her body against mine.

  It would be so easy to take this further—to slip off her shirt, carry her to my bed. There are still parts of each other we haven’t yet explored, but the sadness behind her eyes tells me that there’s more going on right now than just a steamy make out session.

  “You should talk to me,” I say, kissing her.

  She shakes her head and grabs my lips between her teeth, pulling me back into another one of our epic kisses. I slide my hands back down to her hips, hooking my thumbs under her belt loops. Every muscle in her body feels tense. Her kisses are passionate but off. She’s not putting everything into it like usual.

  “Key, you should talk to me,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers. “Something’s bothering you.”

  She shakes her head then grinds against my erection, making me moan and gasp for breath. “I don’t wanna talk,” she says, slipping her tongue into my mouth. “I just want to forget everything and be with you.”

  I close my eyes as a shudder ripples through my body. She runs her tongue up my neck, her boobs pressing into my chest. All I want to do is rip her clothes off—but I can’t. Something is wrong.

  I squeeze her hips and pull her off of me, setting her next to me on the futon. Her eyes narrow and her lips form a pout. “What are you doing? Don’t you want me?”

  “Key, I—” I stop short and exhale. Is now the time to tell her I love her? It’s too soon, right? I’ve wanted to tell her for days now but it always seems too soon. When do you tell a girl you love her in a way that makes her believe it?

  Keanna’s pout gets sadder and I take her cheek and pull her toward me for a kiss. “I want you so bad, you have no idea. But I’m not stupid. You’re hooking up with me right now to forget about whatever is bothering you.”

  The flash of guilt that crosses her face tells me I’m right. I take her hand. “We’re not some booty call couple, Key. We’re in this for real, so you’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later what’s bugging you because I care and I want to help you.”

  Her shoulders fall and she tucks her feet up underneath her. “Okay, fine. I can’t go to school with you in the fall.”

  Okay, that’s the last thing I expected to hear. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “I need to get my GED and get a full time job and move out. Find my own place, be on my own.”

  My heart speeds up. “Why are you saying this? Do you want to leave? You don’t want to be with me?”

  She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “No, the plan is to keep you as long as possible. You’re my rock.” She squeezes my hand. “I just can’t keep being a burden to Becca and Park. I need to support myself and I can’t do that if I’m in high school.”

  “Have you told Becca this idea? Because she won’t allow it.”

  Keanna’s frown flattens. “Yeah, she said I need to go to school and stay with her but that doesn’t matter. She’s just being nice.”

  “She is nice,” I say. “She likes having you there.”

  “I’ve been a burden my whole life. I need to support myself.”

  “You’re seventeen. You don’t have to do all of that right away.”

  She swallows and stares at the throw blanket behind our backs. “When that baby comes, I’m not going to belong there.”

  “Then I’ll move out with you.”

  Her eyes widen and she gives a quick shake of her head. “No way. You can’t leave this awesome house.”

  “I’ll leave the freaking planet if it means I get to be with you,” I say, sitting straighter. Anger replaces all of my worry and suddenly I need her to know how serious I am. I stand up. My hands hurt like they want to punch something. “You either stay here and go to school with me or you quit and move out and I move out with you. I’m going wherever you are.”

  She stands. “Not happening. You can’t leave your family and school. You’re only a junior. It’s not happening.”

  “Good, then you’ll stay and go to school with me,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.

  She groans. “No. I need to support myself, Jett. Why don’t you just get that?”

  “Why don’t you get that people care about you? You can’t miss out on high school. What about college? And getting a good job? You need to stay so you can achieve all of that.”

  She laughs and walks toward my door, then turns to glare at me. “You’re talking about stuff that normal people get to do. I’m just poor and homeless and no one gives a shit about me. When that baby comes along, there won’t be any place for me, Jett. Don’t you get that? You deserve better than some trailer trash girl with no life or future.”

  Tears spring to my eyes and although I’m supposed to be manly and shit, I just can’t help it. “I can’t believe you would say that.” My voice is low and raw. Pain fills my chest until it feels like I can’t breathe. “I can’t lose you,” I say, but it sounds more like a whisper.

  “You’re not going to lose me,” she says slowly. She shakes her head and stares at the floor. I think she’s trying to hold back tears as well. “Just let me fix my life and stop telling me everything is okay when it’s not.”

  Chapter 7

  I am a total jerk. From storming out of Jett’s house to texting him that I’m going to bed when I’m not—I am a jerk. A selfish, rude, horrible girlfriend. I don’t deserve the title, not really.

  I just took the only guy who genuinely seems to care about me and I told him to leave me alone.

  Why.
Am. I. So. Stupid.

  I don’t want him to leave me alone. I just don’t want anyone to see me this way. Especially someone whose opinion I very much care about.

  It’s one-fifteen in the morning and I’m laying wide awake in my room. Becca’s guest room. I still feel weird calling it my room even though it’s been my home for two months now. I don’t own any of the furniture, the TV, the sheets on the bed.

  With a heavy sigh, I throw off the comforter and sit up in bed. I am tired of pretending like I’ll be falling asleep any time soon. There is a very big, very distinct problem in my life right now and I can’t just run away, hide my face under a pillow and hope it all goes away. Running away is what Dawn does and I will be better than her. I’m probably not better than her now, but I can be. I will be.

  I walk over to the desk near the window and take out a notepad and a pen from the top drawer. I click on the little lamp and sit down and take a deep breath.

  How to fix your life

  My handwriting is downright awful, but I stare at the words and try to smile. The first part of my problem is very easy to identify. Money.

  It’s always money. I can’t think of a single problem in my life that couldn’t have been fixed with enough of it. It sucks and it’s sad and pathetic but money makes the world go around. If I plan to move out by my eighteenth birthday and support myself, I’ll need as much of it as I can get.

  Using the credit union app on my phone, I pull up my account and write down the balance: $1216

  I groan. Why did I spend all that money shopping again? Just last night, out of curiosity I looked up apartment rentals in the area. The cheapest one was nine hundred a month plus two months’ rent as a deposit. I need at least eighteen hundred dollars before I can even try to rent my own place. And that doesn’t include furniture, dishes, a shower curtain—all those things you need in order to live. God knows Dawn and I have had our share of moving into crappy apartments only to not have a shower curtain or the money to obtain one.

  Doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out. I write: save every penny, try to earn more and then move on to the next line.

  At three in the morning, I have sixteen full pages written down. An entire plan to fix my life, and it includes keeping Jett as my boyfriend for as long as I can.

  A stab of pain hits my chest, like someone just lit a whole box of matches and tossed them inside me. The tiny voice in the back of my head tells me what I spend all day every day trying to ignore:

  Jett is too good for you. You are not worth it. He’ll never stay with you.

  All of these things I know to be true. But like I said earlier, I am a jerk. A selfish jerk. I care about Jett so much that I will do whatever I can to keep him mine. Of course, after the way I yelled at him tonight, maybe he’s already gone. God, I hope not.

  *

  The next day is Jett’s day off work, so it’s easy enough to ignore him while I’m behind the front desk. We are swamped with clients and their annoying parents so even when Jett walks in the front doors with his dad, Jace, I’m only able to give him a quick wave and a “sorry, look how busy I am” expression as he walks by.

  Around noon, Becca bounces in the front doors looking spunkier than ever in a bright pink sundress and flip flops showing off her fresh pedicure. “Lunch break!” she sing-songs as she relieves me from my post. “You can stay gone an hour today,” she says, flashing me a grin as if we’re both in on some joke.

  “Why? I’m just going to grab some cereal at home so I don’t need that long.”

  She smirks to herself and checks her email on the work computer. “Just trust me on this.”

  The rumble of a dirt bike motor sounds closer than usual and I look over to find Jett parking his Honda up against the front of the building. Bikes are definitely not allowed up here, especially since riding on concrete is dangerous with motocross tires, but being the owner’s son gives you certain privileges.

  Jett walks in wearing khaki cargo shorts and a Honda T-shirt that matches his bike. He’s wearing a black backpack and I have a sudden idea of what he looks like when he goes to school. It’s cute, to say the least.

  He gives me a half-smile, his hair all messy from the helmet he left on his bike. “Lunch?” he asks.

  Something in his eyes lets me know he’s worried I’ll say no.

  “Sure,” I say, smiling. I don’t exactly want to pretend that last night never happened, since that’s how Dawn always handled our arguments, but I also don’t want to talk about it. I’d hoped when I finally fell asleep this morning, that figuring out a game plan for living on my own would make me feel better today, but it really hasn’t done anything but ensure that I’m exhausted while trying to work.

  Outside, Jett shrugs off his backpack and hands it to me. “Can you wear this?”

  That’s a weird request, but I put on the backpack and whatever is inside is cold against my back, but it feels good in the summer air. Then he hands me his helmet. “On it goes.”

  “I have to wear this?” I ask, holding it up as if it were toxic. “Why?”

  Jett smirks and climbs on his dirt bike. “Because we’re going for a ride.”

  I put on the helmet and climb on behind him, adrenaline coursing through my bones the moment he cranks the bike to life. I’ve never been on his bike before and I’m a little scared but mostly excited.

  He pulls back the throttle and we zoom across the parking lot, toward the track. He turns left and steers the tires into a little trail that runs alongside the main track. I hold onto his waist while we cruise for a few acres, past all of the practice tracks and to the very back of their land, where it flattens out into unoccupied fields of trees and tall grass.

  The thrill of being on the bike makes it easy to see why Jett loves this sport so much. The bike slows and Jett cruises up to a massive old oak tree. Its branches reach out tall and wide, its trunk as thick as a car. My heart does a little pitter patter when I see what’s been set up beneath the tree.

  A quilted blanket lies on the grass in the shade, a bouquet of sunflowers tied in a ribbon rest in the middle of it.

  When he stops the bike, my hands are shaking and it’s not from the exhilarating bike ride.

  We get off the bike and Jett leans it against the oak tree, then he helps me take off his helmet, which he hangs over the handlebar.

  I feel like I’m blushing, both from this romantic gesture and from the ride. Two wrinkled circles on the front of his shirt show exactly how hard I was holding onto him while we road over here.

  Jett takes off my backpack and slings it over one shoulder. He takes my hand and leads me to the blanket. “These are for you,” he says, dropping to his knees on the quilt.

  I take the sunflowers and sit next to him. “They’re beautiful.” I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  Jett unpacks our lunch and sets it out on the blanket in front of us. He brought bottled water, which was what made the backpack cold, and a selection of finger foods that he lovingly chose and packed into his mom’s Tupperware containers.

  There’s cheese cubes and turkey slices, crackers and chips, various chip dips, olives (black and green since I once mentioned I love them both), chocolate chip cookies, and chicken taquitos.

  “Sorry I’m not exactly a good cook,” he says, cracking open his water bottle. “But I’m good at organizing random food that’s good and calling it a picnic.” He winks and my heart melts.

  Oh my god, I feel like I might actually cry. Why, Keanna? Stop being a dork! I shake my head to gather my thoughts, but no matter what I do, I can’t stop smiling.

  “I’m sorry for last night,” I say. It’s not the right time to talk about this but I feel like if I don’t clear the air then I won’t be able to enjoy this wonderful lunch.

  Jett sips his water and then gives me this sweet smile. His eyes gaze into mine. “No need to be sorry. This is a huge life change for you and you’re allowed to get mad about it.”

  “I wa
s such a bitch to you,” I say, shaking my head.

  “So? It’s okay. You’re still my girl, right?”

  A flash of something like fear flickers across his features and I want to throw myself on him and show him just how much I am his. “Of course I am.” I lick my bottom lip. “You’re my rock.”

  He takes my cheek in his hand and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Let’s start over. I won’t bug you about going to high school and staying with Becca anymore.” He tilts his head. “Eh, well, I won’t do it for like two weeks.”

  I grin. “Okay, truce. But you need to know that it’s not like I don’t want to go to high school with you. I’m just sick of feeling like I’m overstaying my welcome at the Park’s.”

  “You’re not,” he says, handing me the olive container that I’m too far away to reach.

  “How can you be so sure about that?” I ask, grabbing a black olive.

  “Because I’m awesome,” he says, relaxing back on his hands. “Just trust in the magic of my wisdom, my dear.”

  Chapter 8

  After our picnic lunch, Keanna’s mood seems better than it’s ever been. She doesn’t stop smiling or joking around with me. There are still issues I feel like we need to talk about, still a ton of good points I’d like to make to hopefully convince her to stay here and go to school, but I’d promised I wouldn’t so I keep my mouth shut.

  I’m pretty sure all of this wanting to move out stuff is something she’s brought upon herself. When Becca and Park say they don’t mind having her live with them, I believe it. They’re good people and they wouldn’t lie about that kind of thing. It makes me wonder if Keanna overheard them saying something that would make her think otherwise.

  Anyhow, I don’t want her to quit school and move out. If she did that, she’d probably find a better job, and meet older people and move on without me. Why would she still want to date me if I’m a year younger than she is and still in high school? She’ll probably meet some twenty-something guy with a real career type job and his own house and she’d choose him over me.