JAKE (Leaves of a Maple Book 2)

by Haley Jenner

  His company was actually enjoyable, shocking the fucking shit out of me. He was funny, easy going almost. Almost. It was a stark difference to the man I’ve spent years trying to love. For the briefest moment, I was reminded of the man I met that very first night. Not the version he seems to have morphed into.

  “Aubrey,” his hand reaches across the center console, holding my wrist softly to pull my attention, “truly, thank you. I know these events aren’t something you particularly enjoy, but I really appreciate how great you were tonight. This will be good for us. Our dreams coming true.”

  I want to scoff at the remark. Our dreams. Is he fucking kidding? I hold in my smart-ass remark though, making myself appreciate that David just thanked me. And it was genuine. Blow me fucking down, I thought I’d die before I’d ever hear similar words come from his mouth.

  “You’re welcome. I’m happy for you, David. Truly, I am. You’ve worked hard for this.”

  He squeezes my wrist, his hand still wrapped delicately around it in affection. It feels odd. It’s gentle, frail in its pressure and I find myself annoyed by it.

  We arrive home, and I watch David as he moves toward our front door, a lazy happiness about him. He waits patiently for me to open the door and I hurry inside ahead of him, but before I can move further past him, he grabs hold of my arm, turning my body toward his as he closes the door softly behind him.

  His eyes scan my face, and my heart beats quickly in panic, reading his attention clear enough. He pulls me closer, and I go easy enough, not having reason not to. Not to him, anyway.

  “You’re very beautiful, Aubrey.” The hand not holding onto mine rises, and he pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  David’s attractive. I’d be crazy not to be able to admit that honestly. He’s tall. Not as tall as Jake, but still, tall. His shoulders are broad, maybe slightly more so than Jake’s but not significantly. He’s clean cut, face always freshly shaven, unlike Jake, whose face always seems to sport a dark shadow of hair along the sharp cut of his jaw. David’s face is similarly sharp, the lack of hair on his face showcasing the strong line of his jaw. His eyes are dark, not impactful in any significant way, not like Jake’s crystal cut gaze. He has zero laugh lines, definitely no dimple, but his lips are well crafted on his serious face. There’s nothing distinguishably attractive about him, he just is. Women would find interest in his appearance. So looking into his eyes, watching his lips part softly as he moves in to kiss me, I know I should feel something more.

  I close my eyes as his lips meet mine and I let him kiss me. It’s soft, fleeting and once again I’m annoyed by his tentativeness. I should push him away, throw off his touch after what he’s put me through, but why bother? Jake hates me and I have no other choice. I’m stuck with him.

  I move closer into him, opening my mouth to his to slide my tongue inside. Trying to feel something more. Anything. He groans quietly as our tongues touch and it sounds wrong. Not the rough growl I crave. I pull back, turning my head from his and his eyes flutter open. They’re drunk with need as his hands rise up, pulling at his tie.

  “Shall we go to our bedroom?”

  I stare at him blankly. Could he be any more predictable?

  “Don’t you ever just get so taken over by your need to fuck me you just wanna rip my clothes off and fuck me where we stand?”

  His head inches back, taken back by the crassness of my declaration. “You’re not a common whore, Aubrey.”

  I cough out a laugh, rolling my eyes. “It’s called passion, David.”

  “Yes, and it’s quite achievable in our bedroom as we make love.”

  Barf.

  Grabbing hold of my hand, he pulls me toward our bedroom, ignoring the mixture of disgust and fear etched on my face. My palms feel sweaty and my chest hurts to breathe.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t let him touch me intimately.

  I can’t touch him.

  Not when all that belongs to somebody else.

  Somebody I can’t be with.

  Somebody I pushed away.

  Somebody who hates me.

  “Are you going to undress?”

  I startle at the sound of David’s voice. It sounds hollows in my ears, and I feel an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. My arms wrap around my body, shielding me from his watchful gaze, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care to see my apprehension as he continues removing his clothes, folding them neatly as he goes.

  The difference between him and Jake in this moment seems magnified. The passion and need Jake loves me with is such a stark difference to the methodical and rehearsed way in which David does.

  I feel sick. I feel wrong. I feel vulnerable, and when David’s cool hands touch my back, I startle forward, moving from his grasp.

  “Just helping you from your dress,” he offers quietly, brow furrowing at my odd behavior.

  I swallow the bile threatening to rise up my throat and pause only briefly before nodding. I’ll need to do this eventually, let David touch me again. We haven’t been intimate for months and months. Since well before Jake and I started our affair. But that’s over.

  He steps forward again, and his hands feel suffocating on my skin, but I close my eyes tightly, forcing myself to enjoy the moment. It’s futile. Unachievable.

  My dress pools to the floor and I suddenly feel bared in the most painful of ways. My shoulders bunch and I pull away from his hands. He mistakes my movement, moving to the bed and reaching his hand out for me.

  I’m naked, bar the small scrap of material of my panties, and the onerous weight of the delicate chain and strawberry around my ankle. A gift from Jake. A small piece of his heart I’m not yet ready to let go of. I refuse to take it off and normally it offers me a sense of peace, of connection to Jake. Even when it shouldn’t. But now, standing so bare for David’s eyes the weight of it feels like shame, like regret and in this awful moment, I want nothing more than to be swallowed by the ground.

  I’m being ridiculous. David’s in no way repulsive and he’s always been a kind enough lover. He’s never touched me in a way I haven’t wanted him to. His touch is always soft, tentative and I think that’s what infuriates me most. Now I know how it should feel. Unbridled passion.

  I let my eyes roam over David’s body as I place my hand in his, trying to find some kind of excitement in seeing the naked planes of his body. His abdominal muscles flex as he reaches forward, dragging me closer.

  He kisses my stomach softly, his chin tipping upward to meet my eyes as his lips drift across my skin. A sob breaks from my throat as our eyes connect and I shrink away from his touch.

  His eyes widen at my shaking form, and I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes tightly against my tears. He pulls me back, but my eyes remain closed, not wanting to see the brown of his eyes. Knowing it would feel wrong. It would feel like I was, am, committing the most heinous act of betrayal.

  His lips meet my nipple, kissing it softly before his tongue darts out to taste it and I sob again, stepping of his reach.

  “What is going on, Aubrey? I’m not hurting you.”

  I nod my agreement, eyes still glued shut. “I know.”

  “Then why are you shielding yourself from me and crying every time I touch you?”

  I shake my head, my arms wrapping severely around my chest.

  “Look at me,” he demands and any residual happiness from the evening subsides as the tone of his voice cuts into me. It’s rude and brusque, and I take a step backward as my eyes open at the strictly spoken request. I blink back the tears leaking onto my cheeks and his eyes narrow.

  “I’m trying here, Aubrey.” He stands, moving to grab his pajama bottoms from the bed and stepping roughly into them.

  I envy him being clothed, envy that he’s now covered and I’m still mostly naked, letting his eyes touch parts of my skin they shouldn’t.

  “Are you listening to me?” The question is bitten out as he throws my silk robe at my trembling bod
y and I grab onto it like a lifeline, forcing my body into the material as fast as physically possible. My body now covered in its entirety, I breathe easily on a shuddering breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I scratch out. “I’m just not really in the mood.”

  “Not in the mood?” he thunders, his hands rubbing along his face in frustration. “My God, Aubrey, you were responding to my touch as though I was touching you without your consent. What is wrong with you?”

  I swallow deeply, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  He snorts. “Could’ve fooled me. What kind of woman doesn’t want their male companion to touch them?”

  I shake my head. “What kind of man refers to their girlfriend as a companion?”

  “You are so strange. I seem like the only one actually trying in this relationship,” he declares, and I laugh at the absurdity of the statement, inciting more anger from him.

  “Good God, Aubrey. Well done on ruining a very successful night for us.”

  “For you,” I combat. “A successful night for you.”

  His hands find his hips and he rolls his eyes. “As I said, I’m the only one trying. You have this ‘me’ versus ‘you’ mentality. How do you expect us to connect when you don’t see us as a team?”

  I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement. A team. Jesus. He must still be buzzed, the after effects of the booze at dinner. A team shares in their joint success; something he’s never done for me. A team supports and encourages one another; something neither of us has ever really done for the other. We’re not a team, more two sides working for opposing goals that never seem to overlap.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Aubrey

  I shouldn't be here. We shouldn't be here. It's not fair to Jake, hell I don't think it's fair for me either, but short of sharing mine and Jake's relationship with David, I couldn't avoid it. So here I am, walking through The Shallow with David, trying my hardest to act like my life couldn't fall to pieces around me within seconds.

  Annabelle greets me with a large grin, lips spread wide, showing all her teeth. I embrace her tightly, because as much as I didn't want to be here tonight, I really, really, did. I miss Annabelle. I miss Darci. I miss Jake and as painful as it will be, seeing him will let me breathe again.

  "So glad you came," Annabelle gushes in my ear before pulling back and offering David a distracted wave. It's no secret she's not a fan. I can't pinpoint one particular moment or event that turned her off or whether it was just a collection of them that caused her strong sense of dislike. I don't take offense, I don't blame her, he's not exactly a warm and welcoming personality.

  I wave my hello to the rest of the group, and the boys each offer a chin lift before turning their attention back to the stage. Darci and Willow move into my space, each engulfing me in a warm embrace.

  David taps my shoulder, pulling my attention to signal towards the bar. I nod my acknowledgment before moving in and dropping my clutch to the table centered amongst my friends.

  My eyes automatically seek out the stage, searching for him. I can hear him, the husk of his voice putting me on edge as soon as we walked through the door. My heart has tightened, began a powerful beat and hasn't settled. It would be stupid to try and control it. It would be like attempting to stop a sneeze, my reaction to him completely involuntary.

  I lose my breath at the sight of him. Jake's beauty has never ceased to amaze me, exemplified only by his beautiful soul. Even if I wanted to, I didn't stand a chance in fighting what I feel.

  I let myself really look at him after what feels like a lifetime apart, and the stabbing wound in my chest begins its slow and steady ache at the loss I feel without him close. His hair is being managed by a cap turned backward, keeping it from his eyes. His strong arms are on show in his loose tank, arm holes wide enough they reach his hips, showcasing the ink decorating his sides. I watch the muscles in his arms jump and pulse as he works his guitar, veins in his neck prominent as he sings. He's covered in sweat; the lights and energy making his skin gleam.

  I want to cry. Instead, I hold onto my tears, watch and listen. I want nothing more than to hear his voice in my ear, touch him…

  "Jake'll be pumped you’re here, Aubs," Annabelle speaks close to my ear, and I hear the slight slur of her words.

  I force a tight smile. "Tell him later, yeah? I'm just happy to hear him sing," I speak honestly because I can't deny how much I miss it. The sound of his voice. Singing or speaking. We haven't spoken in months. Jake's doing, I'm not that strong. I crave his contact daily, think about him constantly. I have to stop myself from reaching out to him every minute of the day. I've come to rely on him heavily and having him gone feels like I've lost part of myself.

  David moves to stand beside me, handing me a glass of wine and I grimace at the liquid. "I'll drink that," Annabelle offers, divulging my hands of the wine glass. "Arch, baby, could you grab Aubs a tequila?"

  Archer stares at David for a moment, a scowl plaguing his features before he shakes his head at David's ignorance. "Sure, baby," he whispers down to her, offering her a quick kiss. The kiss, while fleeting, is intimate, their tongues sweeping across the other briefly before he pulls away. It's sweet, their intimacy, their need to touch often. I envy it, excessively so.

  Annabelle notices my gaze on her, raising her eyebrows up before focusing back on Jake. I watch her happiness for a moment longer. Finding peace in the glow of her cheeks, the joy in her bright smile, before turning my attention back to the stage. I'm thankful it’s dark, lights focused on Jake, and not the crowd packed into the bar. Essentially blinding his vision and making me invisible.

  Archer pulls my attention, handing me my drink and I smile gratefully at him before vocalizing my thanks. "Anytime, Red," he answers, eyes glued to David, who not surprisingly is oblivious to his irritated glare.

  Our attention is pulled back to Jake as he speaks into the microphone, quieting the hordes of drinkers so he can be heard. "Annabelle, where are you, babe?" He smiles into the mic, squinting across the bar to locate her.

  "HERE," she yells, right in my fucking ear and I can't help but laugh at her eagerness.

  Nudging a stage light with his foot, Jake turns the shine from his eyes to allow him to see. "Ahh, there's our birthday girl," he smiles big, showing his dimple, and my breath catches in my throat, my hand twitching to touch it.

  The bar cheers loudly as Jake's eyes fall to me, his face changing immediately from happiness to shock. The ruckus of the crowd gives us both a split second to process as Jake's eyes flick to my side, locating David and the look of betrayal shading his eyes slices into my heart.

  "I'm sorry," I mouth, my eyes watering unexpectedly.

  Shaking me from his thoughts, Jake focuses back on Annabelle, but his smile is no longer easy, now tainted with the hurt that radiates from his eyes. Thankfully Annabelle's too buzzed to notice as he launches into a rendition of 'happy birthday,' that everyone in the bar joins in on.

  Turning back to the table, I locate my drink, downing it in full. Quickly closing my eyes tightly against the burn; of the alcohol or the one in my heart - I'm not sure, I search for calm. Opening them again, I'm met with a strong green stare, and I meet Archer's eyes with uncertainty. His eyes flick to Jake then back to me, brow furrowing slightly. I give him a tight smile before giving him my back, focusing again on Jake. He's kept the stage light turned away and I hate that he can still see me because in this moment, I want nothing more than to be swallowed by the ground.

  "Another wine?" David asks, drawing my attention and I sigh loudly.

  "I. Don't. Drink. Wine. Tequila would be great though," I snap and he holds his hands up in a patronizing gesture of surrender before wandering off. I shoot daggers into his retreating back, turning back when he is no longer within sight.

  The hairs on the nape of my neck rise as I feel his approach, my attention drawn toward Annabelle's high-pitched squeal. "Jakey!" she ye
lls, piercing my eardrums once again.

  I ignore their embrace as I focus on the table between us all. Condensation leaks from glasses and bottles onto the collection of bags centered in the middle. A shot glass slams onto the table in front of me and I follow the hand holding the drink; up the tattooed arm, red lips, nose ring, ocean blue eyes.

  "Tequila," he offers quietly, and I can smell him he's so close; motor oil, sweat, mint and "tequila," I whisper, closing my eyes to breathe him in again.

  He's moved by the time I open my eyes, and I know they would clearly convey my disappointment to the entire group.

  "Thank you," I speak directly to Jake, retrieving the shot.

  Our eyes anchor and I know I should speak, I know I should do something, anything to make the moment less awkward, but I’m at a loss as to what to do. Jake is much the same, boring holes into my face with the intensity of his stare. Archer coughs, finally pulling my attention and I’m thankful that he seems to be the only one piqued by our behavior. I mentally shake myself from the stupor of Jake, refusing to meet Archer’s curious gaze.

  I force myself into Toby and Bennett’s conversation, listening to Bennett recall a story about one of his dad’s shooing some B-Grade celebrity from his restaurant for mispronouncing quinoa. I laugh where I’m supposed to, following Toby’s lead. But my focus is elsewhere, acutely aware of Jake’s presence, standing across from me, engaged in conversation with Archer. His attention is split between his brother and me, eyes flicking to meet mine when he feels my stare.

  I hear him laugh and my heart hurts. I miss the sound. In the same way I miss his voice; when he talks, when he sings. I let myself watch the unfiltered moment and smile to myself. I want his eyes, I want the dimple, but his attention is directed away from me, focused on something else, someone else. I follow his line of sight, the direction in which his smile is aimed, and my breathing constricts almost instantly.

  Her blond curls bounce as she walks. They fucking bounce. And she has two dimples. Two. Framing her perfectly straight white teeth, all on show as she smiles. Directly at Jake. Just as she walks into his body, hugging her soft curves against him. I can’t pull my eyes away, and I watch as he returns her embrace, bending down to whisper in her ear and kiss the top of her pretty little head.