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Mandy, Nathan and Julie head back home.
Logan’s giving me shit about how small my hick school is, when James walks over to us.
Jake immediately tenses and puts a protective arm around my shoulders.
James sees it and a sneer appears on his face before he can recover.
The group walks a little away from us, Logan hangs back for a second, “Dude, if you feel like punching him again, just tell me, I’ll do it. Don’t risk fucking up that hand, UNC won’t be happy.”
James’ eyes narrow in confusion, and then widen when realization sets in. “You’re that Jake Andrews?”
Jake just shrugs and squares his shoulders.
James looks back to me, “Nice job on my truck, by the way.”
The group must hear this because they all cackle with laughter.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling like a cheshire cat.
James shakes his head, looking down. When he looks up, there’s a whole other emotion there.
“Look Mick…” he starts, but then huffs out a breath.
“Could you maybe ask your bodyguard here to give us a minute?” He nods his head to Jake.
I look up at Jake, then back to James, “Nope,” I say, making the ‘p’ pop.
Jake stifles a laugh next to me, his mouth on my hair.
“Forget it,” James mutters as he turns to walk away.
“Hey, James?” He pivots and starts walking backwards, waiting to hear what I have to say. “How’s Megan going?”
He freezes, opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it again, before turning back around and walking away. For good, I hope.
We say goodbye to the gang, and tell them we’ll see them when we get back from the wedding. Jake and I head home. Home? Home.
The work is still going strong on the garage, the termites can’t have done too much damage, I haven’t really seen them rebuilding, but I’ve never actually been in the garage so I wouldn’t know.
We pack and head back out to Jake's truck, saying bye to his family on the way out. I thought they might give Jake and I a lecture about being by ourselves in a hotel room, but I guess being here, living with each other, is basically the same.
When we get to the driveway, Travis, one of the workers is there. He’s a nice guy, always smiles and says hello in the mornings when I take Julie to school. He sees me and smiles again. “Hey, Mikayla. How are you today, darlin’?”
Jake removes the bag from my hand and holds it in the same hand as his bag. He holds my hand tightly and brings me to his side, leading me to the passenger side of his truck. He throws our bags in the bed and makes sure I’m seated, before closing the door.
Instead of getting in the truck, he walks over to Travis and says something to him. It looks like a heated conversation and Travis’ arms go up in surrender. By the time Jake gets in the truck, his face is red, brows drawn together and his jaw is clenched. I don’t say anything to him.
Half way to the airport, he hasn’t changed.
Hesitantly I take his hand in mine and he seems to calm down a tiny bit.
“What happened, Jake? Did something happen with Travis?”
“How do you know his name?” he bites out.
“I don’t know, he just introduced himself one day.” I’ve never seen him like this and it scares me a little.
“And you rem-" His head whips to me, but then he sees my face and calms his features. “I’m so sorry, Kayla.”
He takes a few deep breaths. “I’m just sick of that asshole eye fucking you whenever he sees you.”
“Jake, he wasn-"
“Just leave it alone, okay? He’ll be done next week.”
***
The wedding is beautiful, Mom would have loved it. The reception, however, was amazing.
Jake and I ended up drinking a bit too much and we’re stumbling as we make our way to the hotel room. We got in last night, but after having dinner with Lisa and her fiancé, we just crashed and burned immediately after hitting the pillows.
Lisa, being the awesome ‘Aunt’ she is, has supplied us with a little alcohol in our room, considering we’re only 18 and all.
We’re both buzzed sitting on the floor, our backs to the bed.
“You know the legal drinking age in Australia is 18?” he says.
“No shit?” I empty the remains of the beer bottle in my mouth.
“Mmm-hmm” He fishes through the packet of nuts, searching for something. “It’s the same for driving, well, where we were anyway. Some other states, it’s like 16 or 17 or some shit.”
“Where were you from?”
“Melbourne.”
“What was it like?”
“We lived in the suburbs, believe it or not it’s a lot like home, more traffic lights in Melbourne though.”
“We’re you a bad little boy?” I ask him.
“That kind of sounds sexy and borderline creepy,” he laughs.
I smack him on the shoulder, he mocks hurt, rubbing it before continuing. “Nah, I mean, I was like, 14 when I came back, so over there I was just a standard little punk. I think the worst thing I ever did was accidentally knock over a pot outside a florist trying to do sick tricks on my skateboard.” I laugh. “I felt so bad, I told my mom the minute I got home and begged her to pay for it. She made me apologize to the owner and took it out of my pocket money.”
I laugh even harder. “You are so fricken adorable.”
He chuckles under his breath.
