Page 12 of The Music of Us
But I still didn’t move, and neither did he. Instead, we silently took each other in, not bothering to be secretive about it.
Dark, disheveled locks fell over Jake’s forehead, and he was decked out in black from head to toe, like he had just leapt from one of the US posters. Black boots and a black shirt. Black leather jacket and a baseball cap stuck into the pocket of his dark jeans.
He’d gotten taller. Broader. He looked older, I thought stupidly. Becauseof coursehe was older. I was too. That’s how growing up worked. We were both different people now.
Jake’s eyes were exactly how I remembered, though. Even in the half shadows, they still glimmered with that same unmistakable shine, catching the faint light overhead like the sun glinting gold off the water.
He looked good. It wasirritating.
How did he thinkIlooked now?
Actually, no, never mind. That didn’t matter anymore.
I dropped my stance, lowering the snarling tiger. “What are you doing here?”
“Your website said you were still open, so I thought I’d come through the back like we used to after school and leave my stuff there,” Jake told me, motioning to a bulky duffel bag and a scuffed guitar case at his feet. “I didn’t want to risk drawing attention if anyone here happened to be an US fan.”
I shook my head. “Not why did you comethroughthe back, whyareyou back?”
Crossing his arms, Jake shifted and leaned against the doorframe. “You emailed me.”
I mean, Idid. But I texted him in the past too, and that didn’t even earn me a reply, let alone get him to show up on my back doorstep where we got packages, like he was some sort of special delivery.
“You didn’t reply,” I pointed out.You didn’t reply for years.What was I supposed to think? “I thought—” I broke off, squinting at his face before leaning in for a closer look. “Are you wearing guyliner?”
“Uh, yes? I came from aVanity Fairparty.”
Huh. Well, that’s new. Anyway. “I thought you’d just do a quick repost or share one of our donation links I sent you, not actually show up in person,” I explained.
“Oh.” Jake searched my eyes, something intense flashing through his expression before vanishing. “Well, it’s not like I had a choice. Marie—my manager—was with me when I got your email.” His left shoulder rose in a careless half shrug before dropping. “She thought it would be good PR for me to actually turn up and snap a few photos at the café.”
Right. His manager.
Of course he wouldn’t ever choose to be here for me on his own.
The old Jake would’ve helped in a heartbeat; the new Jake had to be forced to. Especially since he needed good publicity after his last stunt. He didn’t care about me—he only came down here to get something out of this. A taste like bitter coffee grounds settled over my tongue.
“The lighting in that police station ended up not being that flattering, huh?” I said sarcastically. “I’ve got to warn you, the only body of water we have around here is the birdbath over on Willow. I donotrecommend jumping into it.”
Jake pointed down at the growling tiger in my grip. “You know, you two have the same expression.”
“Probably because we’re both talking to you.”
He hummed a little one-note acknowledgment. “Nice to see you still have your sense of humor.”
“Yeah, well, it’s about the only thing Rumple never managed to steal.”
“Rumple,” Jake echoed, attention caught. “Did he ever find a good home?”
“Yeah. Here. We took him off the adoption list.” Rumple had fallen in love with the cat café, just like we’d fallen in love with him. Mom and I realized he didn’t want to leave it behind. My eyes narrowed at Jake.Unlike some people.“He’s king of the jungle.”
“Really? You kept him?” Jake lit up in surprise. “Do you think he’ll remember me?”
Going against my better judgment, I turned and walked away, making it halfway down the hall before I glanced back at Jake over my shoulder. “There’s only one way to find out.”
***
I pushed open the door to Rumple’s hideaway. A low, gentle glow from the corner lamp greeted me, and a warm summer breeze blew through the half-open window, making the sheer curtains billow out from the glass.
