Page 35 of The Music of Us
Oh no. Mom was remembering my little fib to get out of explaining why Jake was back in Somerset.He’s here to get away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. Also, he’s got such a rep, everyone in LA hates him right now. I mean really hates him.
Jake did not need to know about that.
I had to get us out of there. Determinedly, I tugged Jake inthrough the glass door and shut it behind us, sealing us inside the cat room.
Jake stared at me. “Sorry everyone hates you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, brushing him off. “Mom’s on a ton of pain meds for her leg.”
“Yeah, speaking of that, how come you didn’t tell me your mom got hurt?” Jake asked as he ran his hand through his hair, tousling his dark locks and sending them over his forehead. He used to have that tic when he got upset about something. Wait, Jake was mad I didn’t tell him about Mom’s accident? I frowned as I saw a flash of unexpected hurt in his eyes. “You said she was fine.”
“It’s...” I trailed off.It’s a long story. And you don’t even know the short ones in my life anymore. “I mean, we haven’t exactly been keeping each other up to date on our lives.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
Seriously? Crossing my arms and cocking out my hip, I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yours, obviously,” I shot back, before I realized exactly where in the café Jake stood.Oh no, that’s not good.“Back up.”
“I won’t take it back,” he argued, misunderstanding me and very decidedly not moving.
I sighed. “Were you always this stubborn?”
“Were you always this evasive?”
“Ha.” I wasn’t the one who avoided people. Right now, the winner of the Elusive Creature of the Year Award was down to Jake, the Loch Ness Monster, and Rumple when he needed a bath. “I’m being serious, though,” I continued, my eyes flicking up above his head. He needed to move.Now. I motioned with my hands. “Back up.”
“No way, what about how you—”
“Me?”What didIever do to damage our relationship? “Why would you even— Wait. Sorry. Hold that thought. I still need you to back up first because of—”
Before I could finish my sentence, a sudden blur of color came hurling down from the catwalk to landrightonto Jake’s shoulders.
“That,” I finished with a wince, as Bubbles clung onto Jake, wondering why this stupid boy was standing right in the middle of her designated disembarking zone from her perch on the canopy catwalk. “Because of that.”
Jake startled, swiveling around in a surprised half circle, but to his credit, he didn’t shriek like I did when I first experienced being used as a feline landing pad. Jake stumbled backward a few steps, hands flying up to steady the cat clinging to him. Before I could step in to help, Bubbles hopped off and landed gracefully on the floor, looking irritated and yet somehow entirely unruffled after the ordeal.
“You okay?” I asked Jake.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered, despite breathing heavier, chest heaving. He twisted his neck, likely trying to look over his shoulder to see if there were claw marks on his jacket. “I don’t remember that being part of the café experience before.”
I touched his shoulder lightly, stopping him from swiveling so I could confirm his jacket was fine. Jake stilled under my hand before letting me turn him around for inspection. “Well, you know, we have to do something to compete with Espresso Inc and that new cineplex with all those 3D showings.”
In tandem, we turned to look down at Bubbles, who regarded us with an expression that went something like,Jeez, humans, so dramatic, before daintily cleaning her little white paws.
“What were you saying?” I asked. Jake frowned in confusion. “Not about Bubbles, I mean before,” I clarified. My anger had given way to confusion. “You mentioned—”
Jake’s phone vibrated, cutting me off. His eyes widened when he read his text. “It’s my manager, Marie, replying to my livestream question. She wants to do a video call in five minutes.”
“That soon?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah, and I better talk to her now while she has time. Last time I didn’t answer her video call right away, she made me wait another three days until she had a time slot open. But...” Trailing off, Jake meaningfully glanced toward the food and drink area of the café.
A group of friends had just walked into the café, which wasfantastic—just not for Jake.
Going for the quickest and closest option for privacy, I motioned Jake down a short, narrow hall at the end of the cat room and threw open the nearest door on the right. “In here.”
Jake stared straight ahead through the door, waited a beat, then turned to me. “This is a closet.”
