He nods and gestures impatiently for me to continue.
“I think it started for me the first night she hung out with us. Having her here just felt right, and when she took my spot, I thought to myself that I’d give up my seat for this girl every time if she wanted it.”
“That’s very chivalrous of you, Griffin.”
Jack isn’t even trying to hide his amusement anymore, and I know I’ll be getting a shit ton of “I knew it!”s from him for the rest of my life. There’s no unringing this bell I guess.
“Shut up man, this is weird enough to talk about without you giving me shit,” I huff out irritatedly.
He mimes zipping his lips and folds his hands in his lap, like he’s trying to be the most attentive student in Sunday School.
“It really changed when we started hanging out just the two of us, obviously. Everything I learn about her makes me want to know more. She’s…she’s something else, man.” Heat creeps up my neck to my face and I know I’m blushing, but honestly, I don’t care. “She’s like…okay, you know when we get the firstrealday of fall, and you didn’t realize how hot and miserable it was until the cool air hits your face for the first time, and you feel like you’re not just trying to survive the heat anymore? That’s her. She’s a Goddamn breath of fresh air, a solution to a problem I didn’t know I had, someone that makes me want to grow up and try to be worthy of someone like her. She’s…she’s everything.”
“Damn, dude. When did you get so good with words?”
I run my hand down my face in exasperation.
“This is serious, Jack. We either need to come clean about this bet to her, or we need to swear to take it to the grave.”
His face quickly changes from smug to serious. He was against this bet from the beginning, and part of me thinks he’s going to leave me to deal with it on my own.
“Listen man, I know you didn’t want anything to do with this–”
“Yeah but I let it happen. And I think you’re probably right,” he muses. “We’ve got to tell her. Maybe we should sit down with her, all three of us.”
“ I think that’s our only shot–hopefully with all of us copping to it and apologizing, she’ll forgive us and realize that we all want to keep her around.”
“And then you can ask her out.”
I can’t help but smile at the possibility of me and Eleanor turning into something more. But my smile quickly fades when I think about her reaction. There’s no guarantee she’ll forgive us.
“And thenyes, ideally I can ask her out. If she doesn’t hate me.”
We sit in silence for a moment–he’s probably just as scared of Eleanor cutting him off as I am. There’s something really endearing in their friendship, like they’re both the sibling the other always wanted.
“We need to sit down with David like, yesterday,” Jack says sharply. “I don’t trust him not to make an ass of himself and say something before we’ve got a game plan.”
I couldn’t agree more–that’s why it’s so damn frustrating that he’s MIA tonight. Anxiety suddenly grips me so hard that I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Hey man, it’s going to be okay,” Jack says reassuringly. “I knew something was up that time I drove her home and you slammed the door in my face.” Pointing at me, he adds, “Which was rude as hell by the way.”
I roll my eyes, then drop my head into my hands. I usually trust Jack immediately when he says something’s going to be okay, but I can’t shake the sinking feeling I have about this.
“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that you guys would be great together. And you obviously both have feelings, but you’ve been playing the dumbest game of chicken in history.”
He leans forward on the couch, looking more serious than he has all night. I know this is the part where he tells me what I have to do, and I don’t know if I’m going to like it.
“You need to put your big boy pants on and tell her. The only person suffering because you don’t know how to communicate is you.”
Looking thoughtful, he adds, “And Ellie actually. You’re wasting time that could be spent being happy becauseyou’re too scared to be honest. So figure it out and go be happy.”
I nod my head–I don’t think I can open my mouth right now without throwing up. Being an anxious barfer is the worst.
With the conversation clearly over, Jack once again reaches for his keys to leave, and I don’t stop him this time.
Laying in bed that night, I stare at the ceiling and rehearse what I want to say to her over and over. I need to find a way to convince her that the bet was never meant to be mean, and that it’s been over for a long time.
My sleep is fitful and peppered with nightmares about Eleanor walking away forever. Getting ready for school the next morning, there’s a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. If I mess this up, it’s not going to be a short-lived argument—I’m risking losing the best thing that’s happened to me.
