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I give a jerky nod. “She’s not interested in him that way anymore.”
“And she’s living with you, in the bedroom next to yours, every night, right?”
With a fucking vibrator in her drawer and shower towels on her floor. “Your point?”
He leans his shoulder into the wall and drags his hand through his sweaty dark hair. “In high school, I always wondered why you two never got together. I mean, she was a year older and way out of your league back then, but when she’d hang out with us, you two always seemed so connected. Inside jokes, like at the Barrel after soccer. Sharing a look and cracking up without uttering a word. You acted like more of a couple than the couples I knew.”
I debate picking the hammer back up and dropping it on my foot. An injury to escape this conversation. “Still don’t hear a point being made.”
Shaking his head, he picks up a chunk of tile and tosses it into the hallway. “Between Jake and witness protection, your history is on the fucked-up side of complicated, but I’d hate for you to go through life always wondering what-if where Jo is concerned. If you have feelings for her, you should talk to Jake about it. Be honest and upfront. If nothing else, I know he wants to see you happy.”
“I am happy,” I say, attempting to smile, but my jaw seems to be made of cement.
Javier laughs. “Always the same schtick with you, man.”
“What schtick?”
“Giving everyone else the oxygen mask on a nosediving plane, even when you’re one short.”
Forget trying to smile. My underused frown muscles slam into high gear.
His jab reminds me too much of E’s comments the other week.Your greatest and worst trait has always been the same. You put other people before yourself.I understand that my need for control got intense during WITSEC, but caring about others isn’t a bad thing.
On the brink of overheating, I grab my T-shirt by the back of the neck and try to yank it off, but it’s damp and sweaty and gets caught in my hair.
“Javier! You guys up there?”
“Yeah, babe. I’ll meet you at the top of the stairs. We have shit everywhere.”
Javier didn’t mention Simone coming over, but she’s obviously here. Not that I can see her through my half-off T-shirt. I wrestle with the stupid cotton, pulling at it aggressively as Javier’s advice ricochets through my mind.Talk to Jake about it. Be honest and upfront.
I could’ve used that advice fourteen years ago, when Jake and Jo worked together at Markers Construction.
Jake would bring her home some days, the two of them laughing as they’d walk in the door. She’d sit beside me at dinner but would flash him the occasional smile, and I’d be ready to spit nails. He’d grin, going on about the cute way Jolene slipped in mud at a construction site or about how funny she was. She’d laugh, and I’d practically grind my molars to dust.
I knew I was into Jo by then. She’d graduated, and I was still in high school, but we hung out tons. Grabbed shakes at the Smash Shack, stargazed at Bear Lake, spent hours in our tree house, talking about how disconnected I felt from my father and that I secretly listened to Madonna. She’d talk about how she felt closer to her aunt than her mother and her fear of eating peanut butter in public, because it would stick to the roof of her mouth. The deep stuff. The silly stuff. The small and big of our lives until I knew I was soul-deep in love with my best friend.
Even worse, I’d convinced myself she came to dinner after work with Jake so she could seeme.
Finally, one day, I decided I’d had enough. I needed to tell Jolene how I felt about her. Confess how much I loved her wit and jokes and competitiveness. That I wanted to take her on a date. Kiss her. Make her the happiest she’d ever been.
I sat on my bed, rehearsing lines, beyond nervous but also excited.Finally, we’d be together the way I imagined. Finally, I’d be able to breathe without a hitch in my heart.
I picked up the phone to call her, anxious and shaky, but Jake barged into my room.
“You look like you’re gonna puke,” he said.
I shrugged and dropped the phone, trying to pretend I wasn’t sweating over the girl I secretly loved. “I’m fine.”
“Cool, so—is it okay if I ask Jolene out?”
“What?” I shouted the question and nearly punched my oldest brother in the face.
“Jolene. I was thinking of asking her out.”
“You’re twenty-three.”
“And Mom and Dad are six years apart. Jolene’s nineteen. It’s only four years. And she’s different from the girls my age, easier to be around. And we have tons in common.” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “She’s also hot.”
