His Name Is Jake Saunders

Missin' You

"He was...nice," Angela shrugged.

"Nice? Just nice?"

"Well," she shrugged again, "he was sweet and attentive and charming—"

"Did he try to kiss you?"

"Umm, no."

I could tell the fact was starting to worry her with her thoughtful expression. I bit my lip and quickly changed the subject. "Did he say...anything? Do anything out of the ordinary or..."

"Well," she furrowed her brows, "he did kind of seem..."

"What? What?"

"Not there."

I cocked my head in confusion. "Not there?"

"Yeah, like his mind was somewhere else." I turned my head and stared into the distance. Where would his mind go? Would it go to me? Another girl? Was he just full of it or an honest man?

Is this the same Jack I once knew? I mean, I know everyone goes through changes. We're all built to evolve after all, but has Jack evolved into someone—something—I don't know and maybe will never know?

Or is it me that's changed all along?

"You better tell Jake," Angela said.

The mention of Jake's name snapped me out of my reverie. "Huh?"

"He thinks you're exclusive."

"We are exclusive."

"Sophia—"

"Hey, if it ever gets to that, I will tell him."

Angela placed a hand on mine and leaned in. Her eyes and brows scrunched up with concern. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't."

"And I don't want you to hurt him."

"Umm, you don't even know him."

"I don't need to, Sophia."

I sighed, not liking where this conversation has taken us. Has taken me. So I did what I usually do and move away from the epicentre.

"Let's go out, Angie!"

"Okay, I'll go get dressed." She moved towards my room. "I'll wear a favourite of yours as repayment for that faux-date I had with Jack."

"Wear-away. Till your heart's content."

"It may take a while," she shouted.

I laughed. I started swirling my arms back and forth, unsure what to do with myself.

I tried resisting. I honestly did. But I have the worst gauge for restraint. I picked up my phone and searched Jack's number. Ready to text him. Or call him. No, text. I wanted to hear from him. I wanted him to hear from me. Will he want to?

I didn't even think of that. What if he doesn't even want to talk to me? What if he really is trying to avoid me?

Oh, God, I better put the phone down before I throw it out the window. It beeped just as I was about to place it on the table. I flinched and then turned the screen on.

"Jack..." I whispered.

His text: 'I miss you. Come see me?'

Seconds later, when I didn't reply, he wrote, '...or I'll come see you. Whatever you want. I just miss you.'

A few seconds more: 'I hope you miss me, too.' Then in brackets: 'Last text I promise.'

I smiled. And it hurt.