More Than This

by McLean, Jay

  He chuckles. “My turn, I dare you…” he pauses for dramatic effect, “to let me touch your boobs.”

  “Errrr, I’ll take truth thanks,” I say through a chuckle.

  “Dammit!” he spits out mockingly. “Okay, is it true… that… you want me to touch your boobs?” He starts reaching his hand out for a grab. I swat it away and laugh out loud.

  “You kinda turn into a horny creeper when your drunk, this game’s over.”

  I start to get into bed, and he follows.

  Once were snuggled under the covers and I’m nestled on his chest, his arm around me, hand on my waist, he kisses my forehead.

  We’re both a little sleepy drunk.

  “I was just kidding about the boob thing, Kayla,” he says through a yawn.

  “I know.”

  There’s silence for so long I don’t know if he’s fallen asleep. His breathing is even and his chest rises and falls rhythmically.

  “Hey, Jake?” I whisper, hoping not to wake him if he has fallen asleep.

  “Mmmm?”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  He sounds so sleepy when he answers, “You’ve already asked me this.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get a proper answer.”

  “Yeah you did, and that’s all you’ll get. Goodnight, Kayla.”

  “Hey, Jake?”

  “Yeah, Kayla?” He’s almost asleep.

  “I more than a lot like you.”

  It’s quiet for so long I don’t know if he heard me.

  Then, “I more than a lot like you too, so much more than a lot.”

  ***

  True to his word, Jake gets up early the next morning and goes to the hotel gym. I meet him there about an hour and a half later. I feel guilty about all the desert and alcohol I’ve had over the last couple of days and figure I should do something about it.

  When I get there, I see Jake in his work out clothes lifting weights.

  His arms, tanned and defined, flexing with every movement.

  I’m not the only one that notices, a group of women, who I think are a few years older than us, pretend to be stretching in front of him, but I know what they’re really doing, and it pisses me off.

  The truth is, Jake, he’s a whole other level.

  Jake Andrews, the could be Pro Baseballer.

  I mean, there are boys, and then there are men.

  And even though we’re the same age, I still feel like a little girl next to him.

  James was a big dude, he was a jock too, but with him, it felt the way it was supposed to, like we were high school sweethearts. I felt like were on an even playing field, while he felt like playing the field. I roll my eyes at the thought.

  I’m in the real world now.

  And in the real world, there are no Jake Andrews for me.

  I suddenly don’t feel like working out anymore.

  I just want to go back to the hotel room and be the frumpy stupid little girl that I am.

  As I turn to leave, Jake sees me and calls out my name.

  I turn back and wait for him. He puts his weights down and starts walking over, but not before a more than stunning blond stands up to block his path. Great.

  He almost crashes into her, and has to hold her up, one hand on her arm, the other on her waist.

  “Woah,” he says, “are you all right?”

  I see her eyes widen when she hears him speak, his deep manly voice, his accent.

  She puts a hand on his chest, rubs up against his side and goes on her tip toes to whisper in his hear. She’s tiny, so he as to bend down to hear what she’s saying.

  After a couple of seconds his eyes widen and he raises his eyes to look at me, head still bent to listen to whatever Slutbag has to say. I few seconds later, which feel like fricken hours, Slutbag straightens up and hands him a piece of paper.

  Her phone number.

  Of course.

  He takes it with a nod and puts it in his pocket.

  My heart drops to the floor into a pool of my idiotic childish jealousy.

  I can’t stand to see any more and I’m sure the lump in my throat is a sign that soon, I will burst into tears. And if I do, when I do, I sure as hell don’t want it to be here.

  I’m heading to the exit when I hear him yell my name, asking me to wait.

  But I don’t.

  I can’t have him see me like this.

  I walk faster to the room until he catches up to me. He calls my name again, but I don’t turn around.

  “Kayla!” he grunts, grabbing my arm and forcing me to turn and face him.

  He takes in my face. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I spit out and cross my arms, like a 6 year old brat. I stare daggers into him.

  A huge smile slowly creeps on his face, he straightens up, crosses his arms over his chest, and winks at me.

  Fricken Winks.

  “What are you smiling about?” I almost yell.

  “You’re jealous,” he says, matter of fact. Huge shit eating grin smeared all over his beautifully smug ass of a face.

  “I am not.” Brat.

  “Are so.” He nods.

  “Am not.” I stomp my foot. Brat. Brat. Brat. “I have no reason to be.” I can’t help the pout that develops.

  “Yeah you do,” he states, putting his arm around me and turning us to walk back to our room.

  I look up at him with a question on my face.

  He looks down and kisses my forehead.

  “Why should I be jealous?” I ask.

  He shrugs once. “Because I’m your Jake,” he smiles, “and you’re my Kayla,” he says, as he fishes in his pocket and throws the piece of paper in the trash.

  He’s my Jake. And I’m his Kayla.

  I like it.

  I more than a lot like it, so much more than a lot.

  Chapter 22

  *Jake*

  When we get back home the house is empty, so we decide to crash in my bed for a few hours.

  By the time we wake up, it’s early evening and we can hear chatting going on downstairs.

  I slowly peel Kayla off me and start to stretch out, when I sit up, I almost shit myself.

  Julie is sitting cross legged on the end of my bed watching us.

  “Holy shit, Ju-ju.” I place my hand on my heart. “What the fu… I mean, how long have you been sitting there?”

  Kayla is awake now and sitting up next to me, sleepy Bambi eyes and hair all messed up.

  Shit, she’s hot.

  I look back to Julie, who’s still staring at us.

  “Are you guys married?” she asks.

  “What?” I answer, exasperated by her presence.

  “My friend Michelle, her dads sleep in a bed together. She says they’re sad because they can’t get married, are you guys married?”

  What the fuck? I look to Kayla. She’s got a shocked, panic look.

  “What are you saying, Ju?” I ask her.

  “Well, you and Kayla do everything together, you can get married. Michelle’s dads can’t get married, so why do they do everything together?”

  I don’t know what the fuck to say. I look to Kayla for help.

  She smiles at Julie, “Because they’re in love, just like your Mommy and Daddy.”

  Julie thinks for a second, then shrugs, “Cool, you guys wanna play ‘garage band’?”

  I blow out a huge breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Sure, go set it up, I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Once she leaves the room I flop back down onto the pillows.

  “Jesus Christ,” I breath out. Kayla looks down at me from her sitting position. “Crisis averted, thanks to you,” I tell her.

  She chuckles under her breath.

  I grab her by the waist and pull her back down to me for one more quick cuddle before we make our way downstairs.

  After an hour of ‘garage band’, which Kayla rocks, by the way, Mom calls us for dinner.

  We eat dinner, answering questio
ns about our weekend and the wedding. Julie, apparently did really well at her dance recital. Mom spent a bit of time at Kayla’s house, well, her old house, gathering her personal things.

  Once dinner is done, Mom gets up and plops an entire apple pie in front of me, the whole thing. I stare at her curiously, but she continues to dish out other items around the table. Kayla has a bunch of desert bowls, Julie has napkins, Dad has silverware and Mom has a gigantic tub of ice cream.

  What the hell?

  “We’re going to have a picnic, kids.” Dad says standing up. I look around me. Julie is beaming and Kayla just shrugs.

  They stand and start walking out of the dining room, carrying their items, so I follow. We get outside, and by this point I’m in complete wtf mode. Kayla comes up next to me and murmurs, “Hey, they’re your family.”

  We make our way to the stairs next to the garage that leads to the storage room above. They must have finished fumigating or whatever. When we get to the top of the stairs, Mom holds the door open for us. Once we step in, I freeze, shocked, then look down at Kayla.

  *Mikayla*

  I’m frozen in my spot and I’m pretty positive my body has forgotten how to breath, or function at all.

  I feel something wet on my arm and look down. Tears. I’m crying and I didn’t know. I look up at Jake and he smiles.

  I look at Mandy and Nathan, they’re watching me, hopeful. I hand the plates to Jake and walk over to Mandy, pulling her into a tight hug before moving to Nathan and doing the same. Then I move over to my bed. My bed. From home. The same cast iron white frame that squeaks when you sit on it, with the same comforter and pillows and baby blanket my mom knitted when she was pregnant with me.

  “How did you… ?” I look at Mandy.

  “I had a lot of help,” Mandy shrugs. “Actually, Logan and the guys helped move the stuff in with Dylan's truck. The girls did the painting and decorating. Dad was busy with Julie's recital and work so…”

  I look at Jake, he puts his hands up in surrender, “I had no idea.”

  “You guys…” I say, my voice breaking. I look at each of them, pleading with me eyes that they understand what my brain can’t voice.

  “Let’s eat!” Nathan announces.

  And we do.

  On the floor of my bedroom, my new bedroom, which is exactly the same as my old one. I even have my own bathroom. They placed everything where it was in my old room, dresser, nightstand, lamps. Even my desk and macbook are here.

  We’re scoffing down the apple pie and ice cream when I notice a photo frame on my nightstand. I stand up mid chew and walk over to it. There’s space for four photos in the frame but only three are filled. One is a family portrait, one of those lame posed ones with the standard blue watercolor style back drop. The other is a candid shot of Mom, Emily and I laughing. It was taken at one of Dad’s little league games, when one of his players accidentally junk shot him with a bat. It was cruel to laugh but his reaction was hilarious. One of the Moms caught it on camera and gave it to us. The other, my favorite, is a picture of Jake and I at my graduation. I don’t remember it being taken. It must have been when I ran up to him after it was over. He wrapped me in his arms and lifted my off the ground, spinning me around. His arms are wrapped around my waist and my hands are around his neck, his cap on backwards. I’m looking down at him beaming and he’s smiling back up at me.

  I remember wanting to kiss him so bad at that moment.

  I tear my eyes away from the frame and look at Mandy. Tears are falling from my face as I tell her “Thank you.”

  I can see she’s holding back her own tears. “I just thought…” She has to stop to clear her throat, and take in a deep breath. She holds up a camera and motions around the room. “Maybe you might want a photo with umm…?”

  “With my family?” I beam through my tears. “I definitely need one.”

  Her sob breaks through, along with a laugh as she sets up the camera and I get a new family portrait to last a lifetime.

  “I’m thinking that maybe I’m really far from more than a lot liking you, Mikayla Jones.” Jake says, as the flash on the camera goes off.

  ***

  *Jake*

  I always knew my mom was an amazing women, but never more so than now.

  We all head back into the house after desert. I shower while Kayla insists on cleaning up after dinner. I’m glad to have my own bed back, but I don’t like that she’s so far away either.

  I must have been in the shower for a long time, because by the time I get downstairs she’s all done. Mom tells me she’s in her ‘room’. I open the door to head out just as she yells out my name.

  “We don’t need to have a talk about this stuff, do we?” she asks from her sitting position on the sofa.

  “What stuff?” I ask, hoping they elaborate, because as much as my parents are awesome, talking about sex makes them so uncomfortable.

  I see Mom start to blush. Dad mutes the T.V and looks over at me.

  “Just remember that Julie lives here too, and umm… wrap it before you tap it.” Dad chuckles.

  “Nathan!” Mom screeches as she slaps him on the chest.

  Then he grabs her in his arms and starts making out with her, like full on making out, in front of me, it’s not the first time I’ve seen it but still… gross.

  I head up to her room and knock on the door.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Come in.”

  I do. “Who were you expec-" I cut myself off when I see what she’s wearing. She’s freshly showered and in her pajamas. Bright red boy shorts and a matching tank.

  Instant semi.

  “Well, I didn’t really want anyone else seeing me like this.” She points up and down her body.

  Damn right no one else will see her like that.

  She moves to her dresser and fishes through a little wooden box.

  I go to lay on her bed.

  She turns around and sees me on the bed. Her face changes to a look of confusion, eyebrows drawn together, thinking… or remembering?

  And then it hits me. That I’m lying on the bed that she’s probably had sex with James on, hundreds of times.

  It’s enough to make me jump off the bed and make same lame eewe/grunt noise. I’m standing now, when I look over at her, she’s glaring at me with a ‘what the fuck’ look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  My jaw hurts from how tense it is at the thought of her and James. “I just don’t really feel like laying on the same bed as the one you and that asshole ex of yours have do-"

  “OH!” she says, surprised. “We never, I mean, he never, well, not that… he… we never… oh god!”

  “You’ve never had sex on this bed?” I ask incredulous.

  “No, we’ve never even fooled around on it, promise. You’re safe,” she laughs.

  “Thank god,” I sigh out in relief before laying back on it.“Then why were you looking at me like that?”

  “I just… I’ve never seen a boy in my bed before. It was just… I don’t know.” She blushes and looks down at the floor.

  “C’mere.” I motion next to me on the bed.

  She lies down and moves my right arm so she’s laying in the crook, her on her side, me on my back, her head on my chest.

  A comfortable silence fills the room.

  I’m almost asleep when I feel her hands move, her breath blowing out as she sighs.

  My hand is resting on my stomach and she moves hers so that our finger tips are touching, she pushes my hand up with hers, almost like were comparing hand sizes. We’re both looking down at our hands now. It’s a small touch, our skin only lightly grazing, but it feels so intimate, like we’re more than what we are. I know I want to be. I want to be more than this.

  I bend my fingers so they’re entwined with hers and I feel something I haven’t felt before. I bring our hands to my face so I can see. She has a diamond ring and a wedding ring on her ring fi
nger, and a larger wedding ring on her thumb, on her right hand.

  “Your parent’s?” I ask quietly.

  “Huh? Oh yeah, it’s theirs. I know I probably shouldn’t be wearing them. Like, its disrespectful or something, but I guess it just makes me feel closer to them.”

  “It’s not disrespectful at all, Kayla.” I whisper, kissing her hair. “If anything, it’s beautiful. Those rings are a symbol of their love, and so are you. I bet when they were putting those rings on their fingers they didn’t have a clue they’d have someone as special as you.”

  She smiles a sad smile.

  “Have I told you about how they met?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Mom was 21, Dad was 18. He worked part time delivering flowers. One day he delivered some to Mom, she signed for it but they weren’t for her. When she read the card and realized he had delivered them to the wrong address, she rang the company. Dad had to go back and re-deliver them to right the address, but not before getting her number. That night he rang her and they spent hours on the phone talking about anything and everything. Mom actually had a boyfriend at the time, apparently he was an asshole. He was working night shift, but she set her alarm so that as soon as he finished, she could call him and break up with him. Two weeks later, he was pretty much moved in with her. They fell in love instantly, Jake. It was like he went to the wrong address on purpose.

  “Mom used to always tell the story when I was little. My friends parent’s would read them ‘The Little Mermaid’ and ‘Snow White’. Mine told me my very own fairytale. That’s what Mom called it, their story, she called it a fairytale. I believe it too. That instant, intense, love. Fate.” She sits up to look at me, tears brimming in her eyes as she tries to talk through the lump in her throat. “I believe in the happily ever after.”

  She’s looking at me with so much emotion that I hope to hell that I’m reading her right, that the look she’s giving me is telling me everything I want to hear. That she believes in Fate. In Love. In us. Forever.