The Unconditional Pledge

10 Hannah

By the time Jay's car rolls into the driveway, I'm ready to strangle him. I've been standing in front of his garage, the exact place I'd been the last time we'd met here, and my phone says it's twenty minutes past three already.

Jay slides out of the Porsche and slams the door shut. He catches sight of me and nods, which I assume is his way of greeting me.

"You're late," I snap.

"That's cute," he says, like my precision is a joke to him.

I turn and walk up the steps, waiting for Jay to follow. After a moment, he calls, "Uh, Greene? Door's this way."

I immediately turn and follow him, determined not to change my expression despite his silent chuckling. It goes to show how good my luck is that of all my classmates, I get him as a partner for this project.

As soon as the lock turns and the front door swings open, I find myself in a massive foyer. So this is the infamous Kaden house, I think to myself. It looks just like what I'd expected. Jay's mom, Veronica Kaden, is probably the wealthiest and most well-known socialite in Fieldbrook. Jay's father isn't any worse — recently he'd run for governor and the polls show he's winning, not to mention his older brother Jessie, who all the girls I know have crushed on at some point. The Kaden family is one of the leading families in Fieldbrook. Until Jay came out, of course, and even that event was brushed under the rug soon afterwards.

"Nice place," I say warily.

Jay kicks off his shoes and responds, "Yeah, I guess." He turns and adjusts a picture frame on the wall that isn't even crooked. Rows of pictures line the walls, each of them showing glowing pictures of the family: one in Long Beach, another in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. In some of them, Jay isn't even there. He starts toward the stairs. "Come on."

I feel panic rise in my chest. "Where are you going?"

Jay looks at me incredulously. "My room," he replies. "Where else?"

I feel my eyes widen without my permission and take a step back. "I thought we'd finish the project in your living room. Or the kitchen."

"Yes, but my computer's in my room," he explains slowly, gesturing upstairs. "Unless you want to write the essay part by hand, we need to get up there."

I take three small breaths like my mom does during yoga, trying to tell myself to calm down. It's not like going to his room is be a big deal — it's a school project. A school project that just happens to be assigned to me and my pledge victim. "Okay. Fine," I finally say.

Halfway up the stairs, I notice a framed photo of Jay holding a guitar. It must be recent, because his hair is the jet black I've gotten used to. "I didn't know you played guitar," I say to break the awkward silence that's sprouted up between us in the hallway.

"Yeah." He pushes open his door to expose a room that's nearly twice the size of mine. "I'm a regular Billy Ray Cyrus, I tell you."

I had half-expected Jay's bedroom to have broken bottles of tequila on the bed and used condoms littered all over the floor, but instead, I face one that might be cleaner than mine. A huge king-sized bed with a blue bedspread sits in the corner by the floor-to-ceiling window, and besides a dresser and desk, there's nothing else in the room. There are no decorations inside, besides a few band posters on the wall, the exact bands Ava's been obsessed with. "I see you like Muse," I say, taking in the poster and the framed autograph on his desk. A few textbooks are stacked next to it. "What's your favorite song?"

Jay shrugs off his blazer and throws it over his desk chair. "Hard to choose. Probably 'Citizen Erased.' You listen much?"

I cut my eyes away and admit, "I don't really listen to them. Ava does. I'm more into indie music."

Jay nods, unsurprised. "Better than your friend Courtney's taste."

Heat rises to my neck. "She's also your ex-girlfriend, so have some respect."

Jay sits down at his desk. "Chill, Greene. I meant no disrespect." He smiles again suddenly. "But dating her was a dark time in my life."

"Yeah, right. You were like Nick's blonde brother."

"He already has one," he retorts as he pulls his backpack towards him. "Josh."

"True, except Josh didn't give birth to what ruins people's lives everyday."

He looks at me blankly. "You mean the Unconditional Pledge?"

"No, I mean your secret son," I say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. "You're real funny. We should get started. Mrs. Bowman says it's due Thursday."

I look at him with suspicion as he turns on his huge iMac screen and waves the mouse to a background of a shirtless Channing Tatum. I look away quickly, heat rising to my cheeks again. Jay pats the bed next to the desk without turning his eyes away from the screen. "Well, aren't you going to sit down?"

I'm glad he can't see me, because I'm sure my cheeks are really red by now. His bed is surprisingly soft, and as I feel myself disrupting the blankets, an unfamiliar smell rises up around me. It's soft and pleasant but masculine at the same time. I sniff and realize it must be Jay's scent.

My pledge echoes through my head again. Here I am, in Jay's bedroom, alone with him, where I could easily get his attention, and lean forward, and — and what? My palms grow sweaty as I think about my choices. Even if I do manage to gather the courage to kiss him, what if he pushes me away, like I expect him to? Would I just give up? Or, worse — what if I kiss him, and he doesn't stop me? Where would I go from there?

"Okay, so, I want to do Much Ado About Nothing," Jay says, interrupting my silent panic. He cracks his knuckles. "And you want to do Romeo and Juliet. Seems like we've reached an impasse already, Hannah."

I hesitate for a second, then blurt out, "That's the first time."

Jay turns back around. "The first time we've reached an impasse?"

"The first time you called me Hannah."

He blinks. "Well, it's your name, isn't it?"

I stare back at him. Not exactly the reaction I expected. "Okay, fine. Let's do Much Ado About Nothing. But I get to pick the characters."

He raises his hands in surrender. "Go ahead, Hannah."

We switch places, him on the bed and me on the chair, and I make a whole show of pretending to crack my knuckles. "Please don't pick someone cliché like —"

"Benedick and Beatrice," I conclude.

He groans, but doesn't protest as I type down our project name. "So the key point of Benedick and Beatrice's relationship is that they're both too proud to admit they're in love with each other," I say, typing the words down. "They both have reasons to think they're above marrying."

Jay bobs his head. "Benedick thinks marriage is for losers, and Beatrice believes no guy is good enough."

After a while of my typing, Jay says thoughtfully, "You know, I never understood Beatrice the whole time we read the play. It's like she refuses to open up at all." When I glance back at him, he grins at me, as though to say, Sounds familiar.

I lean back in the chair. "But she doesn't have to," I say slowly. "The reader understands that she's had a bad past with romance. She has high standards." I suddenly feel irritated. "And what about Benedick? He literally hates marriage," I say, just as accusingly.

Jay's grin grows wider. I wonder if everything is just a game to him. "Yeah, but the lady's got to admit when she actually has feelings for a guy. All she wants to do is argue."

"Why should she? Why can't the guy make the first move? And why should the guy even assume she likes him in the first place?" I shoot back.

He raises his eyebrows at the way my anger seems to have gotten the best of me. "Because she obviously does."

I realize, suddenly, that we might not be talking about the play anymore. "I —"

Jay leans forward, suddenly too close. "It's not like Benedick would've stopped her, though," he continues, and before I know what's happening, he kisses me, and I don't stop him.