Page 69 of The Beta Test

I hand him a silicone spatula he can use to stir the chocolate as it melts.

“Thanks,” he says. “And yeah, I’ve looked at it.”

“Jake, this whole thing is weird. The popcorn and you being here⁠—”

“Oooo, what are you guys making?” Hunter walks into the kitchen sniffing loudly. “Is that chocolate? And popcorn? Yum!”

Jake laughs, then opens the bag, takes out a piece, and tosses it at Hunter. Hunter catches it in his mouth and they fist bump each other. My eyes roll again.

“Want to play some video games before you leave today?”

“Yeah, but maybe only one round.”

“Cool,” Hunter replies, then swipes a couple more pieces before he wanders back out of the kitchen.

I look back at Jake, and before I can try to refocus him on our previous conversation, he asks me to get a large bowl out. I sigh and let it go—we do have to focus on calculus, after all. Even with my future plans in flux, I want to get the best grade possible.

Once the snack is tossed and set, we give a small bowl of it to Hunter, then head upstairs to finish studying. We sit on my bed with the bowl between us, our hands occasionally brushing as we scoop up handfuls.

The entire atmosphere feels both charged and comfortable at the same time. It’s Jake. But it’s not. It’s hard to see the boundaries that used to be so natural, I didn’t even realize they were there. Now… it’s different. He’s my friend, not just Jenna’s brother, and he’s also quite… attractive. Every time he grins, my stomach swoops. My fingers itch to move his hair out of his eyes or to touch the warm skin of his forearms. I try not to overthink it, but I can’t help it.

Then underneath all of that is an unfortunate layer of guilt. Braden and I still haven’t talked or found any closure with one another, but it’s not like Jake and I are a thing anyway. He’s never said anything to me to indicate he’s anything other than what he’s always been: a good friend. Plus, I’m still not convinced all this stomach action isn’t indigestion. As for noticing his attractive qualities—that’s really no different than looking at a work of art.

His finger caresses the curve of my ear as he scoops a piece of my hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. Startled, my eyes jump from my calculus notebook in my lap to his face.

His sky-blue eyes wander over my hair. “Want me to braid it? No swim class tomorrow morning, right?”

How did he know that? And why?

He continues. “I’ve always liked how your hair looks like a mermaid princess after you take the braids out in the morning.”

Be still my heart. “A mermaid princess?”

He blushes and looks a little shy. “Yeah, I remember the year you dressed up as Ariel for Halloween and you did that with your hair.”

Technically, Ariel’s hair doesn’t even have waves like that, so I’m not sure why I did that for the costume. I just liked the look.

I consider his offer and decide… why not. After moving the near-empty bowl off the bed, I grab a brush and a couple hair ties from my dresser before settling on the bed in front of him, tilting my head back. Jake grabs the brush and gently pulls it through my long hair, detangling it before he starts braiding.

Jake’s fingers move steadily through each section of my hair, and I close my eyes for a second, pretending the rush in my chest is leftover calculus anxiety and not… whatever this is. The pesky butterflies taking flight again aren’t because Jake’s hands feel amazing—they’re because of everything else going on in my life. Definitely.

A soft knock sounds on my doorframe.

I open my eyes to see Mom standing there in her scrubs, her hair pulled into a careful bun, her badge still clipped crookedly to her pocket. She takes in the scene—me sitting cross-legged between Jake’s knees, his hands in my hair, the half-finished braid—and her eyebrows lift a fraction.

Then she smiles. Not a teasing smile—a knowing one.

“Hey, Aves,” she says tiredly. “Just came up to let you know I’m home.”

Jake jumps slightly—he must not have noticed her—but continues braiding. “Hey, Mrs. James.”

I scramble to say something. Ideally something normal, casual, and not humiliating.

“Oh. Hey, Mom. We’re studying. Calculus final is tomorrow.”

“Mm-hmm,” she says, warmth in her voice. “I can see that.”

She gives me one more soft, amused look, then disappears down the hall.