"So you're telling me he stole my name to get to you?" Dave asks sipping his drink as we both sit at the coffee shop, "Geez, I didn't know my standards had gotten that high."
"Don't flatter yourself." I say, picking up my cup. I'm glad we're getting along as friends after all the drama and embarrassment.
"Why not?" He grins, "It worked, right?"
I suddenly feel heat rush up to my cheeks and I look down. "No. I don't know."
"Come on, spit it out."
"He tried to impress me by being someone else. I know I'm in no position to judge his ways, but how is that supposed to work?"
"You don't get it, do you?" Dave moves his hands, as if trying to prove a point, "Jake wasn't trying to be me, he was just trying to be someone else in your eyes for once - you know, make you look at him as someone other than the bro-zoned best friend!"
I open my mouth to speak, but find no words. Jake and I haven't talked in quite a few days.
"Do you think I should talk to him?" I ask. It's been smothering staying away from my best friend for so long. But that's the confusing part - is he still just a best friend?
"Yes, obviously."
"Right," I nod and get up, "I'll see you later."
"Oh, by the way," Dave passes me a wink, "Dig the haircut." I smile and roll my eyes walking away, flaunting my short boyish haircut.
Jake's house is a ten-minute walk from here. I feel my heart beating a little too loudly. This is weird. I've never felt so confused about my feelings before. I reach the familiar doorstep and ring the bell. His mother opens the door. She's a rather young-looking tall woman, with Jake's chocolate brown hair and blue eyes.
"Sarah!" She smiles cheerfully, "Come on in." I follow her inside. "Jake, Sarah's here!"
She disappears into the kitchen leaving me in sheer awkwardness. I've been in this house so many times yet I've never felt so awkward and nervous before. I see Jake come down the stairs in flannel and messy hair. On seeing me, he pauses a little then in the attempt of hurrying down, trips at the bottom stairs. I can't help letting out a smile.
"Um, hi," he says sheepishly.
"Hey."
"Uh... let's go up to my room and talk."
"Oh, okay, alright."
I follow him up the stairs and my heart starts beating fast again as we both enter his room. It's just another generic teenage-boy room with posters of rock bands and dusty shelves. He makes some space on the bed for me to sit. We both sit down pretty further apart. I can see he is nervous to make eye contact with me.
He finally sighs, "I'm sorry, Sarah."
"Yeah. I'm sorry, too. I was overreacting."
Silence again. I scan his face and am astounded at so many things I never noticed before - the freckles on his nose and cheeks, the sun tan underneath his deep blue eyes, his tense jaw line, and the way he's biting on his lower lip. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss those lips. I mentally slap myself and look away.
"Since when did you like me?" I ask, trying to break the awkward silence.
He blushes and smiles, "Sixth grade. Remember how you stood up for me against some bullies? I couldn't help liking the brave chubby girl in pigtails."
"Hey, I'm not chubby!" I look down at myself in contemplation. He laughs. I've missed the sound of his laugh.
"I couldn't tell you because I was afraid of losing you as a friend." He sighs, "I'm sorry, Sarah, really, I was out of my mind. But it's alright - I understand if you don't feel the same about me."
"Jake, I - " I don't know what to say. I don't know what to feel. Do I like Jake? How can I possibly like Jake?
"It's best for you to go now."
I look at him, startled, "What?"
"I didn't mean to be rude, sorry. I just - I have some stuff to do. So if we are done talking, you should leave."
"Jake," I feel heartbroken at his reaction, "Are you mad at me?"
"No, I'm not mad." He gets off the bed, standing up, "But I don't think I can keep this up anymore. Pretending to be best friends and all. Everytime I look at you, I - " He stops. Although he isn't facing me, I can feel him breathing hard.
"You what?"
He turns to me, "I feel like kissing you."
My mouth feels dry and my heart starts banging against my chest. For a moment, it becomes clear in front of me eyes. I need Jake. I can't imagine staying without him. I have grown so used to of having him beside me that I never thought what would happen if I didn't. I love him in every way possible. Maybe I have been so busy being best friends that I didn't realise when we'd become more.
Before I realise what I am doing, I shoot right up to him, grab his shirt and place a kiss on his lips. The realisation of my action suddenly jolts through my brain and I let go, horrified. I immediately press a hand over my mouth.
"Shit," I almost whisper, "You're right. I should go." He takes my hand as I turn to leave.
"Wait," there's confusion on his face, "What was that?"
I look down, not knowing what to say.
"Sarah?"
"I like you, okay, I really like you," I blurt out, "I wasn't sure before but now I am."
His eyes light up a little but soon his expression changes, "Then why do you want to leave?"
"Because I can't! I can't do this. Look, it's difficult to explain. I need to go."
"No, wait," he takes a firmer hold of my hand, "Tell me the truth, Sarah and then you can leave. I'll never bother you again. Why are you holding back from me?"
I look up into his desperate blue eyes. It hurts to see so much love in them. There's no point in hiding the truth anymore. I take in a deep breath.
"Jake," my voice is shaky, "There's something you don't know about."
"What is it?"
I sigh, "I didn't get this haircut on purpose."
He gives me a blank look for a moment. I continue, "Remember I got sick last month? That wasn't viral. It was a tumour. A lymphatic one."
Jake looks at me in disbelief, "What?"
I dont break eye contact. I gulp as I go on, "Stage IV. Lymphatic cancer. Basically my immune system's going to hell. The accident I had recently - it made things worse. I have stopped responding to therapies. I'll have a transplant in six months but there's no guarantee that I'll ..." My voice trails off.
"...That you'll live?" Jake's eyes are wide - like a doe's caught in a headlight.
I give him a sad smile.
"Chances of survival are ten percent or so," my voice is almost a whisper.
Jake flops down on his bed.
He stares at the ground for some time, "It's can't be true."
"It is." I say quietly.
He stays silent. After a while, he looks up at me.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I didn't tell anyone," I feel a lump forming in my throat, "I didn't want people to look at me with pity. I didn't want them to treat me like I was dying."
Jake tries to hide his face away from me, but I can see his eyes are wet.
After a while, he comes up to me and hugs me tightly. I hold his shirt and rest my head against his shoulder. I can feel him crying softly.
"I'm so sorry, Jake." I say, holding back tears.
He pulls away, holds my face and then gently kisses me. I kiss him back, letting the warmth and tenderness seep in.
After a while he pulls away and fixes me with a watery smile. The look in his eyes break my heart.
"Sarah Allen. Would you like to go out with me?"
I shake my head, "Why are you doing this? I may not be around for a long time."
"You said you didn't want to be treated like you're dying," he says, "Just so you know, you're never going to be dead to me."
"Jake," I look him in the eyes, "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm not going to leave your side, Sarah," his face is inches from mine, "Not now, not ever. I'll keep pestering you till your last moment."
I can't help but smile, "Oh, well, as a matter of fact, I would love to go out with you, Jake Winter."
As we set out on the streets walking towards the town pier, I decide to ask him something.
"Hey, I couldn't help wonder, how did you pull it off? The bra thing? Wishing me Valentine's, remember?"
He smirks, "How could I forget? Well, I wrote it, then gave it to Dave and told him to return it to you."
"Oh." I realise suddenly there are lots of things we need to talk about. I'm glad I took the chance to text Dave in the first place.
It's crazy when someone tells you that you might not stick around for long, your urge to live simply multiplies itself. Fear, hurt, embarrassment...It's for the best that we don't let them rule us and our choices.
Clock's ticking, how many chances are going to come around anyways?
I laugh, "So Jessica Rabbit, huh?"
~~~THE END~~~