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But then she steps into the lamplight of the room and I see that she’s sobbing silently, the tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Yas, what is it?” I say, springing from my chair and walking across the room.
She collapses into my arms with so much force I almost fall over. I lead her to the bed and sit down, wrapping my arms around her and let her cry herself out against my chest. I put my desires for Jamie into a box in my mind, and lock it hard.
They have no place here, when my best friend, his daughter, is in such a state.
“Yas, what is it?” I whisper. “Talk to me.”
She shudders against me and finally looks up, her lips shaking, her eyes still brimming with tears.
“It’s so silly,” she says. “You’re not supposed to feed internet trolls, right? But there’s this group that’s been hounding me nonstop, Jade, and I was just like, fuck this. Who do they think they are? They keep Photoshopping pictures to make it look like I’ve done porn. Every video and post I put online, they spam the comments section with their crap. So I finally responded. I made a video telling them all to go fuck themselves, basically, and now there are even more comments. I know there are more important things in life than comments sections and all that crap, but …”
She shudders and coughs back another sob.
“Yas, there are always going to be people with problems worse than yours. It doesn’t mean that yours aren’t real and that you’re not allowed to be upset.”
Our eyes meet and we begin to smile slowly, Yasmin finally giving me a playful nudge.
“So that’s how it is, huh? You’re going to use my own lines against me?”
I giggle and squeeze her shoulders, trying to put my feelings for Jamie at the back of my traitor’s mind.
The only consolation I have is that nothing has really happened yet, but that doesn’t mean the thoughts aren’t plaguing me.
And when I ask myself if I’m going to skip seeing him tomorrow – or today, technically – the answer roars out in my mind as a definitive no.
“It was true when you said it to me,” I tell her. “And it’s true now.”
“Yeah, fine, but having your dad die in a ski accident and having a bunch of basement-dwelling assholes comment on your photos are two very different things.”
“It must be horrible,” I murmur, ignoring her self-deprecating comment. “Having all those people talking about you, criticizing you … I don’t know what the heck I’m going to do if I ever do get a book published. One bad review and I’ll probably move to an igloo in Antarctica and become a freaking nomad or something.”
Yasmin giggles. “I can so see you in a white fur cape.”
I grin, her laughter bolstering me, letting the writhing anxiety and guilt drop away for a few moments.
“How about you? Are you nervous about going back to work?”
I have two days off – today and tomorrow – and then it’s back on a six-day stint at the restaurant.
“A little,” I admit.
“Don’t be,” she says. “Dad’s people are the best. They won’t let anything happen to you. I should’ve insisted that you let them tail you when this first started. Have you noticed anything since last time?”
“No,” I say. “But it’s like that sometimes. I’ll see him one day and then a few days will pass, and nothing. And then he’ll just pop up. You know, Yas … It doesn’t matter.”
“What?” she says, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze now.
“It’s just that sometimes I wonder if I’m imagining him, you know? Maybe dad’s death and all that grief and all the anxiety that comes from trying to be a writer and—”
And crushing on your dad, I almost blurt, but somehow shove it down deep.
“And everything else,” I go on.
“You’re not crazy, Jade,” Yasmin says firmly.
Our gazes meet and we smile again, a mirrored movement with both us ending up beaming at the same moment.
“Okay,” she laughs. “Maybe you’re a little crazy, but only as much as you need to be a writer. I’m here for you, okay?”
She pulls me into a hug and I cling to her, this woman who has been so good to me for so many years. I find myself remembering when she read the first story I ever submitted when she was mentoring me for creative writing, the way her eyes lit up and widened in joy, and the way my heart sparkled in answering shades of love and belonging.
I make a silent vow to myself as I cling to Yasmin.
Whatever happens tomorrow, I won’t give in to my desire for Jamie Jensen.
And yet even as I make this unspoken pledge, a voice whispers within me.
Yeah, right, it says drily.
Chapter Eight
Jamie
I arrange for our next self-defense session to be in the heated enclosed rooftop area, a crystalline glass structure that houses a few plants, and a seating and socializing area.
