***
3.41PM, Friday, Dec. 25th
400 West 37th Street, New York
“Don’t be shy,” I teased, pulling on his reluctant hand. “I want you to meet my family.”
Jake mumbled something inaudible, looking incredibly pale. He was the most nervous I’d ever seen him. It was cute, really. It was sweet of him to get worried about what kind of impression he would leave on my family. In the ten minutes I’d given him to prepare, he’d even changed out of the worn leather jacket he always wore, and was wearing a preppy checked shirt he’d bought hurriedly and pulled on. His hair was looking less crazy. Suddenly, Jake was looking a lot more presentable…to parents, anyway. I still thought he looked hotter in the clothes he usually wore.
I knocked on the door, and Mom swung the door open.
“Come in, honey!” she said, smiling so wide I thought she might pull a face muscle. She shook Jake’s hand enthusiastically, still beaming that smile at him. “You must be Jake. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I winced at her over-shrill tone.
“Thank you,” Jake replied, his voice strained. “Lovely to meet you.”
I tried not to laught. I almost felt sorry for him. Mom stood to one side, letting Jake in. It felt almost bizarre to have him here with me. I was so used to seeing him in exciting (well, sort of) places – the movies, his boxing ring, the ice rink. It was so weird to see him here, in my home, surrounded by pink floral wallpaper and beige carpets.
Sammy ran forwards, and immediately grabbed Jake by the knees. Jake made a weird noise I didn’t know he was capable of, almost like he’d been mauled by some kind of animal.
“Do you want to come and have a cup of coffee?” Mom offered, ignoring Sammy, who was still attached to Jake’s knees. Jake was standing in an awkward pose, his shoulders slouching, his back bent as he stood frozen. It was funny to see him looking so helpless, so unsure of what to do. I was used to him being so confident. “I feel bad for taking you away from your family, especially at this time of year.”
“It’s fine. They don’t really mind.”
I frowned. Was it me, or was his voice suddenly a whole lot colder?
“Are you sure?” Mom asked, still sounding concerned. “I mean, it’s Christmas…”
“I’m sure. They don’t care.”
“If you say so,” replied Mom dubiously, letting it go. I examined Jake’s face, but his hair had fallen over his eyes – on purpose? I bit my tongue, holding back the question I so desperately wanted to ask. But it wasn’t my business to know. He would tell me when he wanted to.
Mom went into the living room, leading the way. I started to follow, but Jake didn’t. I turned around, and realized that Sammy was still stuck onto his knees. Instead of helping, I turned away again, fighting back a smile.
***
4.34PM, Friday, Dec. 25th
My Room, 400 West 37th Street, New York
“Sorry about my Mom,” I apologized. I sat down on my bed, kicking my shoes off. I’d shoved most of the junk and stuff under my bed about an hour ago. Spotting a pair of panties I’d missed, I quickly pushed them under a dirty plate when Jake wasn’t looking.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jake said, with that easy smile that made my heart flip. He sat down next to me and I felt the mattress shift under his weight. “I think it’s sweet. She cares a lot about you.”
