"Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the heart." – Proverbs 21:2
After attempting to strum a chord progression for the twelfth time in a row, Jake shouted in frustration and threw his guitar down on his bed. He couldn't remember the last time he had had this much trouble with a song.
"Stupid strings," he muttered, glaring at the neck of his guitar as if it was the source of the problem.
In reality, it wasn't the difficulty of the song that was bothering him, but the frayed emotions he had to deal with. Two hours ago, he had been shocked to find Maya sitting at the same peak as him. A little later, he'd been furious when she dropped in on his wave. Then, after their rather destructive conversation, he'd paddled back out with a permanent scowl on his face. He had sat in the water for another hour, not catching anything except one small wave to go in. The surf session had been a complete waste of time.
At least Jake's family wasn't here to see him so stressed out. His parents were at a doctor's appointment and his little brothers were playing at a friend's house. The Sanders' home was quiet and tranquil—until Jake had yelled, that is.
He meekly picked up his guitar and fingered it in his lap. With his burst of anger now over, he felt exhausted. His emotions had peaked and ebbed, leaving a wake of remorse in their path. He suddenly regretted everything he had done today.
Blinking away a few tears, he gently set his guitar down and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contact list until he saw Maya's name. When was the last time they had actually connected? He remembered the daily texts, the constant phone calls, the fun and entertaining conversations at school and work. Now, they ignored each other on every possible occasion, and Jake had even dropped a few hours so he wouldn't have to see her at Scottie's.
But the pain he felt in his heart was indescribable. "Oh, God," he muttered. "How could I have been so stupid?"
Maya was the love of his life. That much was true. Jake felt it in every part of his being. How could he have let something as pointless as a single fight ruin their entire relationship?
He groaned in frustration, but this time, he contained his urge for violence. He shoved his phone away and rested his head in his hands. If he tried to call or text Maya, she would only ignore him. He needed to wait until the right time before attempting to reconcile things between them.
His dad, along with Cole and Blaine, had been right. The thing Jake needed to do—the thing he should have done a long time ago—was bow his head and ask for forgiveness.
Before he could approach Maya, though, he knew he had to approach God first. After letting out a deep breath, he quietly murmured his first words of confession.
"Well?" Cole asked as soon as Alana opened the door to his surf van and climbed inside. "How'd it go yesterday?"
She gave him a weary look. "Please don't remind me."
"But Jake never texted me back! I don't know what happened."
Blaine quickly piped up from the backseat. "What are you guys talking about?"
Cole and Alana exchanged a look. "Well," Alana said, "we kind of came up with a master plan to get Jake and Maya back together...only it didn't work out."
Cole banged his fist against the steering wheel. "Dang it. What went wrong?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Blaine said, leaning forward to stick his head between the two of them. "What exactly did this grand plan of yours entail?"
"Alana took Maya for a surf session, while I took Jake," Cole said. "I dropped off Jake first and then 'accidentally' forgot my wetsuit at home, so I left him alone in the water. Then Alana was supposed to show up fifteen minutes later and ditch Maya, thus forcing the two of them back together."
Blaine shook his head. "Why did you think that would work? As soon as they saw each other, I bet they turned around and paddled in opposite directions."
"Actually," Alana said, "they ended up talking, but the conversation went horribly wrong."
"Yikes," Cole muttered. "Maybe we should have stayed out of it."
"You think?" Blaine said.
"Hey, at least we tried." Alana sighed and propped up her elbow on the armrest. She peered out the window at the houses racing by. School was only a few miles away.
"Well, now that our plan damaged their relationship for good, we need to come up with something else," Cole said.
Blaine drummed his fingers against the backseat. "No way, bro. What makes you think that a second plan is going to be better than your first?"
Cole shrugged. "If you help us."
"Or maybe your brother is right," Alana said. "Maybe we should stay out of this. You talked to Jake and I talked to Maya, so it's not like they're ignorant of the situation. They both know what to do."
"Thanks for siding with Blaine," Cole said dully.
"I'm not taking sides, I'm just stating my opinion."
"Hang on, guys," Blaine interrupted, chuckling. "I don't want another breakup in the gang. One is plenty enough for me!"
Cole narrowed his eyes at his brother through the rearview mirror, while Alana's cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink.
As soon as the school parking lot came within view, the conversation subsided, and Cole made a beeline for the closest parking spot. The trio hopped out and began their trek towards the gym, where the surf team's weight training class would begin in a few minutes.
When Alana and the twins split ways into their respective locker rooms, Blaine pulled his brother aside. He had an anxious tone to his voice. "I forgot to ask," he said excitedly. "Is everything settled for this Saturday?"
Cole grinned. "Don't worry. Alana will probably have all of us meet her for a surf sesh in the morning, and then after breakfast I'll spring my present."
"Are you sure you don't want to tell the rest of the gang?"
"They don't need to know."
Blaine cocked an eyebrow, obviously dissatisfied with this response. "I'm not so sure," he said slowly. "They might get the wrong impression if you take Alana but no one else."
"So what? It's her birthday, not anyone else's. And Dylan and Tammy are coming with us."
"Still..."
Cole rolled his lips into his mouth, thinking. "Okay," he said finally. "I know it might look a little weird if I only take Alana and her family, but they have to understand. If they start getting ideas about the two of us, then whatever. They probably already know, anyway. At least you do."
"Well, if you're confident about it..."
"I am."
Blaine gave him a unconcerned look and shrugged his shoulders. "Alright. It's up to you."
"Don't worry, man," Cole said, smiling. "Alana's eighteenth birthday is going to be the best yet."
A few hours later, Cole entered his second period classroom like he always did—head high, shoulders poised, smile ready to greet his friends and teacher. But the first person he came in contact with was Koa.
For some reason, Koa had never wanted to sit next to Cole in Government and Economics, the only class they had together. Cole was fine with that. But now, when he greeted his friend with a "Hi!" and a wave, Koa only nodded in response. Then the guys sat down on opposite sides of the room like they always did.
Cole's demeanor instantly changed. His smile faded, and as he slipped into his desk in the middle of the row, he glanced across the room and studied his friend carefully. That wasn't the first time Koa had brushed him off. He didn't want to admit it, but maybe Koa had a grudge against him. Cole wracked his brain trying to remember anything he had said or done—which brought up an endless list of offenses against the whole gang—but there was nothing recently that he could remember. Maybe Koa was just in a bad mood.
But like a little boy with Christmas on his mind, Cole quickly reverted to thinking about Alana's upcoming birthday and his plans to make her as happy as possible. He had trouble concentrating in class because he was so nervous with excitement. Everything had to work according to plan. If something went wrong, he would never forgive himself.
The way he saw it, their relationship was due for a major change. He had relentlessly pursued Alana during their surfing safari over the summer, causing her to confess that she did sort of like him in return. That was good enough for Cole. They had agreed to take their relationship slowly, without making it official, and without putting a label on it. But their daily conversations, slight touches here and there, smiles, and small flirtations made it obvious to Cole that they needed to make the next step. He drew a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his legs. He wondered briefly if it was a mistake to plan this "next step" on Alana's birthday. Would he come across as too forceful?
Gosh—Alana meant the world to him, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes, not when he was this close.
After class, a thoughtful and slightly daydream-y Cole stepped out the door and headed to the quad for break. Despite his lack of concentration on his surroundings, a certain figure jerked him out of his reverie. He suddenly turned and followed her with his gaze. His thoughts, which had been so carefully plotting his plan for the weekend, immediately fixed themselves on the conviction that had accosted him the other night. Like a heat-seeking missile that suddenly changed course, Cole realized this was what he should have been focusing on, not Alana.
Her name was on the tip of his tongue, but it took every ounce of strength within him to say it. "Taylor!" he called, ignoring a few looks and stares from passing students. "Hey, Taylor!"
She looked over her shoulder, pretended not to see him, and continued walking towards the girls' bathroom.
But Cole was persistent. "Wait up!" he yelled, shoving his way against the crowd until he was almost close enough to touch her.
Realizing that she wasn't going to get away, Taylor sighed and slowed her pace, allowing Cole to come up next to her. "What?" she snapped.
He gave her a quick once-over, slightly breathless from his efforts, and then straightened up. "We need to talk," he said professionally.
She peered up at him through dark lashes. "I don't think so."
"But we do."
She popped her gum in her mouth. "I don't have time for this. Why are you running to me all of a sudden? Have you finally come to your senses?"
Cole's smile dropped from his face. He realized that she was mistaking his expression as excitement to see her again. In reality, he was merely optimistic about the conversation they were about to have.
"No, it's not that," he said. I don't like you in that way any more, he wanted to add.
She huffed and turned on her heel.
"Hey, wait! Taylor!"
She continued walking away, her blonde hair swishing over her shoulders. "Forget about it, Cole," she snapped over her shoulder.
A few heads turned to stare, but most of the students were heading towards the quad, not in the direction that Taylor was going. Cole pursued her. "I need to tell you something!" he called.
Only a few yards away from the bathroom, Taylor paused and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine," she said with a roll of her eyes. "This better be good."
Cole saw right through her act, though, and his gaze immediately went to the hope lingering in her eyes. His heart stopped. She doesn't just want attention from me...she still likes me.
Well, this was going to be awkward—much more awkward than he'd anticipated. But God had put it on his heart to talk to her, so that was what he was going to do.
"It's about...me," he said quietly. "About how I've changed. I want you to know that—"
Taylor interrupted him with a laugh. "Oh, I know what you're going to say next—something about church and Alana and how you turned your life around. Is that it?"
"It's more than that," he pressed, but Taylor wasn't listening.
"I've heard your little spiel before." She rolled her eyes. "I've seen you praying with your friends, acting all nice and kind, never showing up to your usual parties and hanging out with your usual friends."
His blood boiled. "My friends turned their backs on me, and Logan and I even got into a fight!"
"Only because you turned your back on them," she countered.
"I kept my distance."
"They did the right thing by taunting you. You're acting ridiculous."
"What makes you think they did the right thing? Is cheating and swearing and taking drugs the right thing?"
The last part hit home, but Taylor recovered quickly. "It is under my rules."
Cole shook his head. "That's the thing, Taylor. These aren't your rules. No one can ever live the best life without following God's—"
Then realization dawned on him. "Wait, were you behind my friends' taunting?"
Her eyes flashed, daring him to accuse her further. "So what if I was?"
"What exactly were you trying to accomplish through that?"
"I was trying to get you back on our side."
He almost smiled. "There's no going back, Taylor. Can't you see that?"
"I can now," she retorted.
"I realized how broken my life was and how badly I treated others, so I asked forgiveness from God, and he changed me."
She laughed. "I don't have time for this, Cole. You're actually preaching to me right now..."
"Wait!" He grabbed her backpack before she could walk inside the bathroom. "Listen. Please."
His eyes shone with warmth, but Taylor's darkened with anger. "Get away from me," she muttered. "If you're here to say that God is good and he loves me, then whatever. I don't believe it. How can you say that when you treated me like trash?"
Cole was stunned. If anything, Taylor had been the one to treat him like dirt, not the other way around! "No, you have it all wrong," he pleaded, immediately sorry that he had blown up earlier when the topic of his 'friends' had come up.
Taylor placed her hands on her hips, one of them fingering an object that she had pulled out of her pocket. "There you go again, saying how horrible I am and—"
"I never said such a thing!"
"You certainly act like you believe it!"
Exasperated, he said, "Taylor, I'm trying to help you."
"I thought you never wanted to see me again, let alone talk to me!"
Her voice had risen to a piercing pitch. Cole took a step backwards, knowing that he had pushed her to her breaking point. Obviously she was more strung up than he'd realized. The next thing he knew, she had thrown something at his face before turning around and vanishing into the bathroom.
He bent down and picked the object off the ground. It was a crumpled ball of notepaper, slightly torn around the corners, but obviously reread multiple times because of the ease with which he unfolded the paper. The creases had been folded over time and time again, judging by their pliability. He frowned and glanced at the poor handwriting.
Suddenly, he gasped. The weapon that Taylor had so bitterly flung at his face was strikingly familiar...so familiar, in fact, that he recognized it as a note he had written himself. The words scrawled across the paper immediately jogged his memory.