Page 18 of The Beta Test

“Jake, we should get started,” I prompt, finally finding the right page and sitting up straight with purpose. My pencil taps against my book impatiently.

But he’s still not turning around or getting his stuff out of his backpack. “Why do you want to go to MIT?” he asks.

Because that’s my dream? It's a strange question. No one's ever asked me that before—not even myself. I never had to think about it because it was something Braden and I discussed constantly. The image of the two of us bundled in winter coats walking around on a snow-covered campus was burned into my brain after our obsessive planning. On top of that, it’s literally in the middle of the vision board with giant, glittery stars all around it. It’s still what I want, even if Braden isn’t here to remind me every day.

“I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s what Braden and I have dreamed of for years.”

Jake nods slowly as he pins the picture—one of Braden and me—back in place on the board. He finally grabs his schoolwork from his backpack and pulls my desk chair over towards my mattress so he’s closer to me.

“Alright, Leia, let’s do this.”

For the next hour we go through problem after problem. Somehow everything makes sense to me when Jake explains it. He’s patient and really knowledgeable. In a way, he reminds me of Braden, except Jake also makes calculus seem fun. Eventually he ends up on the bed with me, our shoulders touching as we hunch over our work. Jake’s left-handed and I’m right-handed, so we laugh a few times when our arms bump against each other.

Everything seems to flow easily and my earlier awkwardness seems silly, until there’s a lull in our work. He looks me right in the eyes while our heads are literally inches apart. My breath catches and my throat closes. It feels… charged, in a way it shouldn’t. If he wasn’t Jake Taylor, my best friend’s little brother, I would swear that he wants to kiss me right now. But he is little Jakey Jake and that thought is absolutely absurd.

His eyes flick down to my mouth. So what do I do? I look at his mouth, which is dumb. So dumb. Because now that I’m looking I can see that Jake Taylor actually has super kissable lips. Objectively—as a neutral observation. It’s ok to notice things about people.

“Avery,” he says softly.

“Snacks!” I say loudly, leaning back. “Snacks. I left our snacks downstairs! Silly me.” A cringey, awkward laugh fills the air as I struggle to toss my book aside and get myself off the mattress. In my rush to create distance, I end up plummeting off the bed and straight onto the floor, landing hard on my side. The wind is knocked out of me, so I lie there, staring at the ceiling and questioning all the choices that led me to this moment. Ah, yes—a better grade in calculus. And maintaining physical boundaries while my boyfriend is across the country. Maybe there’s someone else I can study with to make this easier?

Jake’s head pops over the side of the bed to look down at me. “Was it the calculus or my charm that knocked you over?” He reaches out a hand to help pull me up.

“I just got excited about snacks. That’s all. Doesn’t everyone get excited about snacks? I left them on the kitchen counter.”

I dismiss his hand and heft myself up on my own. As I start to walk towards the door, Jake’s voice stops me.

“I’ll go get them. Your excitement might send you hurtling down the stairs.” He flashes me a dimply smirk and leaves the room.

The heat of a fresh blush crawls over my skin. What is wrong with me?

My tablet lights up on my desk with a message seconds later. It’s Mr. Pi. Although we’ve texted on and off the past couple weeks (mostly about food and school), I haven’t heard from him in a couple days.

31415: Hey there. Whatcha doin?

80085 [Me]: Breathing.

Not a lie. I’m still struggling to control the flush I got from that embarrassing spectacle by doing deep breathing exercises. I need to have it under control before Jake comes back.

31415: Me too! We have a lot in common. This reaffirms what I already knew.

80085 [Me]: And what’s that?

31415: That we’re meant to be best friends. That we’re destined to stand the test of time.

31415: That’s what this app is for, right?

I can’t help but chuckle. He’s ridiculous!

80085 [Me]: Dramatic much?

31415: Or maybe realistic and accurate?

80085 [Me]: Or maybe hopeful and delusional? I highly doubt *being alive* has a strong bearing on friendship compatibility. Or else wouldn’t everyone be friends?

31415: Au contraire. Pretty sure I read a white paper that proved a strong correlation between breathing and friendship longevity. Plus other factors, but those aren’t important. But don’t google it—it’s hard to find, behind a paywall and all that.

My cheeks hurt from how hard I’m smiling now.