"Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses." – Proverbs 10:12
Maya was extremely hyped after her conversation with Alana, and her nervous excitement continued throughout the rest of the afternoon. Even when she chatted with Trevor and joked around with the rest of the gang, thoughts about Jake still lingered in the back of her mind. She knew she had to apologize to him, but when was the right time? She couldn't exactly have a private conversation in the midst of a busy surf competition. So, after rinsing off, getting dressed, and stashing all her surf equipment in the car, she returned to the beach to say goodbye to everyone, hoping that she might have a chance to pull Jake aside for their much-needed and long-anticipated talk.
However, Jake was busy chatting with his parents, and Maya felt awkward coming up to them after distancing herself for so long. She grimaced and slowly turned back around towards her mother's car. So much for that plan...
She cast one last fleeting look over her shoulder before resigning herself to her fate. She would figure out another way.
Fortunately, even though her adrenaline rush had peaked and ebbed, she still carried some degree of excitement throughout the rest of the afternoon. Only when she found herself alone at home with nothing to do did she finally resolve to pick up the phone and dial Jake's number.
She sat on the couch wearing Yoga pants and a long-sleeve shirt, twirling the end of her ponytail around one finger as she listened anxiously to the dial tone. She heard three rings, then four, and waited with bated breath. She quickly formulated the words she would say if she reached Jake's voicemail. But to her surprise, Jake suddenly answered, catching her off guard.
"Hello?" he asked, sounding strangely bored and indifferent.
For a moment, everything Maya had rehearsed seconds earlier came up empty. She cleared her throat and said shakily, "Um...Jake. It's me."
"Yeah. I know."
"Oh." Apparently he hadn't deleted her contact after all. "Well, I was kind of wondering if I could come over now—or later—if you're not busy."
Silence.
"I, uh...I want to apologize," she added meekly.
"You do?" Jake asked, betraying a hint of surprise in his voice.
There was another pregnant silence, and then Maya asked again, "When would be a good time for me to come over?"
"Anytime tonight," he said.
"I'll be there in half an hour," she promised.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Before she could say anything else, the line went dead. She held the phone away from her ear and dropped it onto the couch, exhaling a sigh of relief.
But now came the hard part.
As she grabbed her mom's car keys and hurried out of the house, she tried to convince herself that everything was going to be fine. After all, it was Jake who had clearly established that he wanted them to get back together. Plus, he had sounded surprised—hopeful, even—during their phone call just now. Maya was bound to emerge with a victory, wasn't she?
"Oh, God," she breathed quietly as she started the ignition. "Please forgive me. Please just give me the right words to say."
The nervous excitement Maya had experienced all morning vanished in an instant. Her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel. I can do this, she told herself, occasionally murmuring the words aloud. Ten minutes later, upon reaching the Sanders' home, she breathed another quick prayer before stepping out of the car.
She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat and knocked on the front door. Seconds later, she heard footsteps, and then the door creaked open.
Jake stood in the doorway, one hand behind his back. He pulled the door open farther and gestured for her to come in.
But Maya's body wouldn't allow her to take another step. The words suddenly rushed out.
"Jake," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "I know it was terrible of me to ignore you."
"Maya—"
"I was rude, selfish, and stubborn, and—" She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "You were wrong, Jake." Her words began running together in her haste. "When you said you didn't deserve someone like me, I thought it was the most humbling thing I had ever heard. But you got it wrong. I'm the one who doesn't deserve someone like you."
"Maya," he tried again.
She silenced him with another rapid-fire speech. "I'm sorry for ignoring you, and being angry with you, and turning you away even after you gave me that amazing apology in front of the school." She took a deep breath. "But...rather late than never, right?"
Jake, confused, looked like he was still trying to digest everything.
"I'm so sorry," she said quietly, making a conscious effort to slow down before her words could trample over one another. "Will you forgive me?" she asked meekly. "Will—will you give us another chance?"
He chewed on his bottom lip for a second, and then an uncontrollable smile broke out on his face. "Oh, Maya," he laughed, rushing forward and flinging his arms around her.
This time, she started laughing too, stumbling backwards in his embrace. She tangled her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes. She hadn't realized how much she had missed this—his warm, woodsy smell; his gentle embrace; his soft heartbeat.
"Hey," Jake said suddenly, pulling away so he could look her in the eye. "We were both in the wrong here. But now we need to focus on making things better."
"I know," she said, moving her hands around his neck.
"We have a lot to work on," he added.
She tilted her head up to him. "I know we have some things to talk about, but first—"
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Jake's. Though it was short and sweet, Maya knew that out of all their kisses, this had been the sweetest one yet.
Cole felt sick to his stomach. He hated looking Alana in the eye, seeing her innocent trust, and pretending that everything was okay. He hated hearing his father and Blaine congratulate him for being such a model student and boyfriend.
Lies—they were all lies.
He sat on his bed with a dozen papers spread out around him. Homework beckoned, but his mind was a million miles away. He knew he shouldn't spend his Saturday evening so wrapped up in paranoia, but his conscience was eating away at him. Every hour his anxieties intensified, up to the point where he locked his bedroom door so his family couldn't walk in and see him shaking from head to toe.
He glanced over at his closet mirror and saw that his face had turned pale. He looked away and swallowed. Was it possible he was overreacting? Was this some sort of mental block his mind had put up? Cole realized he hadn't even started planning what he had to do next. All he could think about were Taylor's words and his own mind screaming, Look at what you've done!
Cole had convinced himself that there was no way out. Maybe there wasn't. Maybe pushing down his fears, praying for courage, and confessing to his father and Alana was inevitable. Cole had mastered his emotions for today, but the more he sat in silence and pondered, the more his own thoughts drove him to the brink of insanity.
He shuddered and stepped off the bed. As he stretched, he gradually calmed down until he could think more clearly. I'm overreacting, he told himself. This is going to have serious consequences, but it's not the end of the world.
But Cole didn't dare think about his relationship with Alana. Instead, he turned his thoughts toward Taylor. If he was taking the news this hard, how might she be feeling?
Just imagining what Taylor was going through frightened him. He knew he had been selfish. Without wasting another moment, he picked up his phone and dialed her number.
The voice that answered on the other end of the line was surprisingly cool and collected. "What?" she asked snappishly.
Confused, he stammered, "I—uh—I wanted to see how you're doing."
"Well, I'm doing fine, thank you."
Cole closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, I'm not," he retorted. "Look, Taylor, I don't know if you're faking this right now or not, but I'm been freaking out all day and night about what you told me. I can't handle it anymore. We've got to do something."
She sighed into the phone. "Cole," she groaned, "you have to keep your cool. No one will even know for a long while. I won't start to show until a few more months."
"Who cares how long it takes?" he shot back. "The point is, there's nothing we can do to stop this, and we have to come clean sooner or later."
"Oh," she laughed, "is that your plan? You really want to tell your friends and family—Alana included—that you went and got me pregnant? That'll go over well."
"Stop," he muttered, feeling his insecurities growing stronger.
"We have other options. I know I was a total wreck when I called you, but I've come to realize that this is only a minor setback—for me, of course. If I scrounge up enough money I might even be able to get rid of it."
"You mean—an abortion?"
"What else?"
He shuddered. "Please, Taylor, don't do that. I'll help you. This is my fault, too, and we're in this together. I'll take the baby. I'll—" His voice faltered. He hadn't actually considered that this situation made him a father.
Fortunately, Taylor laughed again, jerking his thoughts back to their conversation. "Cole, honey, don't you get it?" she sighed. "You're trying to calm me down when it's you that needs to calm down. I'm completely fine. I have months to live my life exactly like I always have, and so do you."
Cole felt like his mouth had turned to sawdust. "That isn't very wise," he heard himself saying. "We need to turn for help, not continue doing whatever we want."
"Oh, and who's going to help us? My parents already hate me and your dad isn't going to back you up once you tell him what happened."
"I'm not talking about them," he muttered. "I'm talking about getting help from God."
There was an awkward silence. Cole winced at his own words.
"You can't be serious," she laughed, mocking his speech. "I can't believe you! Why on earth do you think your God is going to help you after what you did? You pretended to scrap your life together and live like a holy Christian, but beneath the surface you're still just as arrogant and selfish as ever. I see through your façade, Cole. And if your God really does exist, he can see through it too. You have no one to help you."
Cole narrowed his eyes and clenched his phone tighter. "That's what you think," he said slowly, struggling to contain his fury.
"Oh? Then what do you think? Is this some sort of grand scheme that's going to work out for good? Is that really what you believe?"
"I believe all things happen for a purpose," Cole clarified.
She sighed dramatically. "Well, my purpose is to have fun and screw the consequences—"
"Which didn't turn out well, considering that you're pregnant."
"It was a risk I took," she said coolly. "A risk that you took too! But considering that I'm known as a party person and you're not, you will be the one to suffer more consequences."
Cole kept his mouth shut. She did have a point there.
"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked suddenly. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Fortunately, all the anger and venom had completely disappeared.
Taylor was surprised as well. "What?"
"Why do you hate me? I mean, I called you tonight because I figured you would be just as paranoid as I was about the future. But then you turn around and start slamming me with this 'I-don't-care' attitude."
Now gaining speed, Cole stood up and began pacing his room. "Frankly," he continued, "I think you're telling the truth when you say that you'll get off easy while I'm going to take the worst of it. But that's probably because the more difficult my failures, the more triumphant my victories. I have a great father, an awesome brother, and a support system of friends that have my back no matter what."
He took a deep breath. "And if that means losing Alana, then so be it."
When he finished, Cole glanced over at his closet mirror to see that the corners of his lips had turned up into a smile. How ironic, he thought, that it took a conversation with Taylor to make him realize that his life wasn't actually ruined like he'd previously thought.
"You're right," she said suddenly, the chill to her words making Cole's blood run cold. "I do hate you."
Then the line went dead.