Keepsake of My Love

Prologue

Lydia

Jacob Somersby was like a delicious toffee apple calling to be bitten on a warm summer day.

He was ridiculously gorgeous-the kind of guy who could break a million hearts with one alluring smile. A single glance was all it took, and you're hooked.

We became fast friends because we clicked. We really clicked. I have to admit, I wanted to be around him because he was easy on the eyes. When he talked to me, it was as if I was the only person in the room who really mattered.

He gazed at me intensely as we engaged in animated conversation. We loved telling stories, and he would sometimes slip in a dirty joke or two, just to get a reaction out of me.

I admired him because he had a brain in his head and used it-the head between his shoulders, not the other kind. He was clever and, thankfully, he was not the arrogant type of smart. He smelled great, like he had just showered.

I breathed him in whenever I caught his scent. No overpowering colognes. Just Jake.

We watched sports (on his terms) and romance films (on my terms), ate out, and played pool-he taught me to play pool. I was his wing-woman early on in our college years, but to be honest, he was a pretty lousy wingman.

For some reason, I never got lucky with anyone when I was with Jake. When we were out together, I noticed women looked at us, wondering if we were a couple. I felt like I was walking on air because I wished it was real.

You see, Jake was a swimmer. He was six feet and three inches of lean, golden muscles. His body tapered down like a perfect V, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He had washboard abs and was never short of female attention.

In high school, he lived in my neighborhood, just a few blocks away, so he came over often. I gave him a spare key to our house (my folks were cool with that-they knew his folks from our local church) and access to my bedroom.

However, he was too much of a gentleman to try anything forward. His mom 'taught him to respect a woman,' he once retorted when I teased him that I'd never seen him naked in my bed while my folks were out.

Jake was always passionate about photography. I've been his prop in many photographs. I've played the role of a tree, mannequin, human triangle, mermaid, and a bunch of other stuff. Jake told me that I was his muse.

Were there other girls who came and went in his life? Yes, there were. It hurt, like a sharp dagger dripping with poison stabbing at my core, to see him steal their hearts with a gentle kiss or a passionate embrace. It was painful to see him choose someone else and build a relationship that seemed rock solid.

There was a dark period when we did not speak to each other. I was left behind, ignored, and forgotten. The fun-loving Jake, who was my dearest friend, slipped away from me. The cutting blade of abandonment wielded itself deeper into my already broken heart.

He shattered my heart once, but when I started my college years, he came back. Did this mark a new dawn of our once broken friendship?

Jake and I promised each other that we would always remain the best of friends, but could I forgive him for the pain he caused?

Jake wasn't someone I could just forget.

It is said that the first cut was always the deepest.

A/N: Please vote and/or comment if you like this chapter. ⭐️