“Wow,” I say. “That escalated quickly. We went from cliff jumping to a whole life spiral in, like, thirty seconds.”
“Look, I'm just planning ahead.” He shrugs as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “If the mysterious Honey disappears tomorrow, I'd at least like the option of texting her once in a while.”
I fold my arms. “Mhm. Texting me once in a while sounds suspiciously like staying in touch.”
He pauses, steps back and then raises both his hands in surrender.
“Okay,” he says. “Fair point. I guess I'm just going to have to scour cliff-jumping excursions around the country and hope you show up on one of those.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes before pushing him lightly in the chest. “Fine. Give it here.”
“Wait.” His brow lifts. “Seriously?”
I nod, holding out my hand.
It’s just a number after all, and this is the exact kind of thing I stopped doing at St. Michael’s. Letting people in and giving someone the chance to know me beyond casual hellos. For a long time, it felt safer to disappear, but Zach didn’t leave so I could keep doing that. He left so I’d figure out how to live my life and have friends.
“Seriously, but just so we're clear,” I say as he passes me the phone, “this is strictly a friends who jumped off cliffs together situation. That's it.”
He grins.
“Yeah.”
I type my number into his phone and hand it back to him.
“Friends,” I repeat.
Jake glances down at his screen, then back at me.
“Friends,” he agrees, and the smile on his face says he's perfectly happy with that.
I place my hand on the door and lean my head against the wood. “I should probably get in there and pack before I convince myself that real life is overrated and book another cruise.”
“Hey, if you’re booking another one, don’t do it without me. I’ve already proven I’m excellent company.”
He opens his arms, and I find myself wrapping mine around him, enveloping him into a hug.
Jake squeezes me once before letting go.
“Well,” he says, rocking back on his heels, “guess I’ll see you around, Honey.”
“That’s statistically unlikely,” I reply, pushing my door handle.
He clicks his fingers and then points at me. “It’s still possible.”
I laugh, shake my head, then glance back at him.
“Good luck at school, Jake. May the student body never find out about the time you tried to start a chant for yourself, and no one joined in.”
“You know what? Maybe itisa good thing I won’t see you every day. You know too many of my secrets.”
He gives me a small salute with two fingers off the brim of his cap.
“Good luck to you too, Honey. I hope you stop running and start jumping.”
“Thanks.”
He turns on his heel and walks away. I find myself watching him, taking in his confident stride, and almost admiring his attitude. Nothing gets in Jake’s way. He just lives for the moment and is happy to take you on the ride. When I started to lose my nerve at the cliff jump, he was the one chanting my name, getting everyone else to join in. He’s sweet, funny and nice... but he’s not for me.
