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Rakell:I’ll try calling tomorrow. It’s pretty busy here…Send
Weird, no response from Jake in over a week, since the night he’d sent the wordEND. As the days ticked off, the nagging confusion morphed into dread, the realization of what he likely meant withENDsinking in ever deeper. She tried to push their fight aside to focus on being present for the grueling schedule of photos and commercial shoots. The long, mindless days on set, people she didn’t know directing her every move, ‘look this way, chin up, shoulders back, chest forward,’ gave her endless hours to ruminate on Jake’s last text and the increasing alarm she felt. Rakell silently repeated his text,END, calling him and texting him with no response.
By the time Rakell boarded the plane at Charles de Gaulle back to Austin, her gut was churning.
Rakell:At the airport, be back Sat, drink Sat night?...Send
Rakell:C’mon Mate, why aren’t you answering?...delete
Rakell:Fucking Bloke, respond…delete
Rakell:Jake, what is going on?...Send
A sense of desperation scratched at her psyche. Jake always responded. He drove their communication. She didn’t know how to handle his silence.
“Refill,” Dwayne said, holding up his water bottle before heading toward the water fountain.
“You’re a monster today,” Jordan said. “I’d normally say good job lifting like that, but I’m definitely picking up on some kind of anger thing driving you. You okay?” Jordan’s eyes peered at Jake with concern as they moved to the next exercise.
“Just a little jacked up,” Jake muttered, grabbing a couple of more forty-five-pound plates.
“A little…come on, brother. You’re burning up inside, what’s up?” Jordan asked, positioning himself on the machine as Jake slid on more weights.
“Her.” There was a caustic bite to his tone.
“Wanna talk about it…now, later?” Jordan asked, his eyes darting toward Dwayne, who was heading back from the water fountain.
Jake shook his head, looking at Jordan. “Dude, on the pissed-off scale of one to ten, I’m at fifty—if I start spilling now, it’s likely I’ll say a bunch of shit I don’t want to say—need to wait 'til I’m closer to ten. It’s some twisted, complicated stuff I can’t even get my head around, much less talk to someone else about it.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun,” Jordan chided.
“I’m like those dogs that like to keep their head out the window in the car going sixty miles an hour, their neck being whipped back and forth, eyes watering, but it’s so fucking exhilarating they keep doing it.”
“Okay…Jake, you know you get drug tested, right?”
Jake chortled, thankful for a bit of levity. “I don’t really know how to explain what’s going on. Let me just take it out on the weights today,” he said.
“Got it. You know how to find me when your vocabulary grows,” Jordan said, trying to sound light, before turning to Dwayne. “Get your ass over here. You’re next, a little pep to your step.”
Nine days had passed, with ten texts and four phone calls from Rakell. Jake didn’t respond—he only usedENDwhen he meantit. He’d had to admit to himself that the decision was eating at him. But he couldn’t go back to the anxiety that came from her skittishness, running every time there was any conflict. He hated how he felt when he saw her next few texts.
Rakell:Leaving Paris today, drink tomorrow night?...Send
Rakell:I really want to see you…Send
Rakell:I overreacted. I know you were trying…delete
Rakell:I’m sorry, I just want us to be a couple like in the movies…delete
Rakell:I’m trying to understand how you feel…Send
He looked at the texts, a small smile slipping past his frustration.
Jake:Can’t do this high school drama shit…delete
Jake:You don’t act like you want this to work…delete
Jake:Fuck you, find the blond guy at the gym…delete
