Jase's little brother, Evan, has hung up streamers in the living room when I walk in, and there's a small chocolate cake that says 'Welcome Home Sienna' in messy blue frosting. The entire thing makes me a little bit speechless. And not just because my throat is killing me. When he sees me, Evan runs over to give me a hug, his 11-year-old arms barely able to reach the tops of my shoulders. I laugh. "It looks like someone missed me!"
"Oh, please," Jase says, but he's smiling. "Evan just wanted an excuse to have chocolate cake."
"Is there something wrong with that?" I ask Jase. "Because I can totally take your slice if you don't want it."
My phone dings in my pocket, finally not dead after I charged it in the car, and I see a text from Noah. No, make that a string of texts from Noah, each sending a stab of guilt through me. I look at the most recent one:
Hey, Sienna. I know you're going to reply as soon as you can, but I can't stop thinking about you. Please, please, please be okay. I've literally been pacing the apartment for three days. I've scared off god-knows-how-many customers and I'm pretty sure Aunt Rosalie wants to kick me out of the house now. So please be okay.
My grin drops completely from my face. Noah's spent all weekend worrying about me? And in return, I haven't thought about him. At all. Not even for a second.
Instead, I've been thinking about Jase Turner.
"Oh, is that your boyfriend texting you?" Jase asks from over my shoulder, and there's a strange quality in his voice that I can't quite comprehend.
"Noah isn't my boyfriend," I say stiffly, hugging my phone to my chest.
"Right," Jase says, rolling his eyes like I'm exasperating just to be around. "I forgot, Little Red is too pure to ever get a boyfriend. Or so you say." He leans in closer, almost whispering. "Though, in my experience, that just means that no guy will take you."
Damn it, Jase. I almost believed you. I seriously almost believed you when you said you wanted to stop being an asshole to me.
"Just kidding, Red," he says when he sees the hurt in my face. He's making an effort to show how nonchalant this is, his arm relaxing on the counter next to him and a lopsided smirk on his face, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes (or show his dimple) and his hand is gripping the marble countertop firmly, like he's trying to center himself to something. It's clear that pretending to be friends doesn't come naturally for him, either.
I just roll my eyes, cutting myself a large slice of chocolate cake. "I think we both know that I'm perfectly capable of getting guys," I say coldly, thinking back to Jase catching me and Noah making out at the garden party. "And I don't have to cheat on someone to do it."
He's doing his best to look casual, but I can see it in his eyes: I struck a nerve. Good. "Aw, Jase, don't get upset. I was just kidding." I look up at him with a pasted-on smile, enjoying the feeling of making him feel bad, for once.
"Oh, shut up, Red," he says, rolling his eyes, though he's grinning a little bit. I step closer, my mouth a hard, straight line. "Make me."
For a second we just stare at each other, my brown eyes looking into his big, blue ones. His eyelashes are long, unfairly long for a guy. Why do boys always get the best eyelashes and girls, the ones with the actual societal pressure to have long lashes, don't? And why do his eyebrows have to be so perfect- soft, thick dark lines framing his determined face, the hard-set of his too-perfect jawline... his lips...
'"Are you two weirdos just going to stare at each other or are we actually going to eat this cake?" Evan asks before I can think any more about Jase's lips or the fact that I'm thinking about Jase's lips. I jump away from Jase instantly, turning back to the countertop. "R-right. Cake. Sounds good." I put my slice onto a plate and cut into it with a fork, savoring the rich, creamy sweetness as it hits my taste buds. "Mmm. This is incredible, Evan!"
He stands his tiptoes, whispering in my ear: "It's from a box. Don't tell my mom, she likes when I 'make things myself.'" He says the last part in air quotes and his completely straight, worried face makes me laugh. "Okay, don't worry. I won't tell her."
Once I'm finally back in my bedroom, I take the opportunity to check all of the online messages that I've been avoiding. I respond to Noah, sending him what I hope is an appropriate response for an unofficial-girlfriend-who-just-got-out-of-the-hospital and... see a total of zero texts from Mayah.
And not one, not two, but three Instagram posts of her and Ethan. Because yes, they're best friends now. I don't exist. It's not like I was the only one there for Mayah after her parents got divorced, who let her sleep over all of those nights to avoid what was practically a war zone inside her house, the one who held her hair back when she threw up in the bushes freshman year at Zachary Coleman's party after she'd gotten completely wasted to try and get Cody Chasen's attention. It feels like none of that matters to her anymore.
Okay, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. But I can't help it, I'm a Cancer, okay? We're known for overthinking everything.
I decide to send a text to Mayah. Maybe it's just a big misunderstanding? Maybe she thinks that I'm the one who's mad at her? I have zero idea why she would, but trying is certainly better than staring at my ceiling and wondering why my best friend hates me.
Maybe I'm just making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe she doesn't know I was in the hospital, maybe she just was really busy this weekend and forgot about me.
Because that's just so much better.
Also how would she not know what happened? Even Noah knew! Did Mayah not even think to wonder why all my social media had gone dark, why I wasn't bugging her about our math homework?
Does she really not care that much?
On second thought, maybe I shouldn't text her.
Eventually, though, my curiosity wins the battle over my pride, and I send her a short message.
Hey! How was your weekend?
And then another.
Also guess what?
I refrain from sending a third. This is already more than enough. If Mayah wants to text me back... she will.
Well, apparently she won't. It's been three hours, 28 minutes and approximately 11 seconds, but my cell phone still hasn't made the pinging sound indicative of receiving a text. I've alternated my time by sorting through the massive pile of college marketing emails I've received and then just not opened, checking my Instagram notifications (Nalah James just asked me how I was doing- what kind of alternate universe are we living in??) and playing Candy Crush, and I honestly think my brain might explode. I almost want to go do my homework, but when I think of getting up, going downstairs, and lugging all my textbooks back to my room... I'd much rather take boredom, to be honest.
I hear an abrupt knock at my door, and jump when I see Jase, my phone flying out of my hand and onto the floor. I bend down to pick it up, thankful to avoid his gaze and everything it does to me for at least a second, but when I tilt myself back up, my head smacks against the wooden post and pain ripples through my skull, the bruises from falling during the fire getting inflamed. "Ow."
Jase smirks at me, though I think I can see a little hint of concern in his eyes. Which, I tell myself, I'm probably just making up. "Are you okay?" he asks, walking over, his mouth still in an easy smile with his stupidly perfect dimple. The one that I'm definitely not falling for.
"I'm fine," I say, looking away from him. It's strange to have him in my room, honestly. The first and last time he was in here was when he caught Noah and I making out at the party. Which is a fact he seems to realize at the same time as I do, suddenly growing awkward and looking around the room like he expects a 6-foot tall football player to be hiding in my shoe drawer. "Red... I just wanted you to know that I'm.. sorry for earlier. I shouldn't have been a jerk about Noah. I know you can get a boyfriend if you want one, I just..." he trails off.
"You just what?"
Jase shakes his head. "Nothing. It's not important. The bottom line is, I shouldn't have done it, I'm sorry." He gives me a sheepish grin. "I guess this whole 'friends' thing is harder than I thought, huh?"
Isn't that the truth. "Maybe it's because we weren't cut out to be friends in the first place," I say, trying to keep the hesitation in my thoughts from coming into my words. "Maybe we should just keep our distance, Jase. You clearly can't do this and I... well, I don't know why I'd even be the kind of person you'd like as a friend."
"Is that really what you want?" His tone is cool, indifferent, and that's all it takes for me to realize that this is the right decision. "Yes."
No, I can practically hear my heart screaming at me. No no no no no!
I tell my heart to shut up.
I have Noah, anyway. And sort-of-dating him is a lot better than being friends with Jase Turner.
Right?
A/n: Hey guys!! Guess who's back with another chapter! That would be me! Also I just want to say a huge thank you to all of you because somehow I'm at 650 reads now?? AAH! At the. end of the day, I write for myself and because I love writing, and not for numbers of reads, but seeing a comment from someone when I'm having writers block or just feel like everything I write is terrible just honestly makes me so much more motivated and happy about writing so thank you! I know there's a lot of things you could be doing with your time, so thank you for taking the time to read some random girl's story the internet!
-Selene