Page 74 of The Music of Us
“Don’t do that,” I admonished him tiredly.
“Dowhat?”
“That.”
“You just gestured to my entire face.”
I nodded. Why’s the world spinning? “Good. You get it.”
“I’m not sure I do?”
He really shouldn’t play dumb, not when he was so smart. Jake’s English essays used to be the best. He picked up on subtleties and deeper meanings I didn’t. I always enjoyed clearer cut things, like geometry with if-then statements. Or history.This happened, here’s how we move on from it.
Except, of course, we tended to make the same mistakes again.
Which was why I found myself noticing that Jake had pretty eyes.
But I couldn’t like Jake like that. It was just me and Mom—who I let down, by the way!—and the struggling café and all the cats that counted on us.
It was that thought that made me suddenly blurt out, “Move.”
I frowned. I’d meant to say that to myself, but it came out sounding like it was directed at Jake. Crap.
“Please,” I added, trying to salvage the situation.
Jake watched me curiously for a moment, then stepped out of the way.
“Thank you,” I said to be polite. And then, because I had no control of my tongue anymore apparently, I added, “James Dean.”
Oh my God, was this who I was without a filter? Someone who referenced old movies Mom made me watch likeRebel Without a Cause? What was I going to mention next? An old novel likeCatcher in the Rye?
Bet Jake’s English lit–loving heart would love that.
Not that I cared.
As I pushed through the back door, I heard Jake quietly talk to the guys about keeping it down and felt a surge of gratitude.
Focusing on my task, I heaved one trash bin up and dumped it into the recycle, before the sun caught my eye and I squinted in pain. Caught off guard, I swayed to the side, making papers flutter out over the edges of the dumpster.
Okay, maybe I was dizzier than I thought. Should I have told Mom and just stayed home today?
No. Never mind. I could do this. I didn’t let the people I cared about down. I’d be here for them.
I emptied the second bin, then set it down on the ground, exhaling heavily. I stood unsteadily on my feet for a minute, feeling like I was about to rock backward, when—
“Whoa, there.” Jake reached out, his hands coming up to steady my shoulders in the nick of time. The tips of his fingers skimmed down my arms to squeeze my hands, holding on to me so I didn’t fall. When had he come outside? I shut my eyes. “Hey—”
“Hey,” I greeted. It was only polite. Plus, he’d said it so nicely.
“Hey,” he repeated softly, sounding amused I’d interrupted him to say hi.
I kept my eyes shut, feeling too dizzy and tired to open them, but I knew if I did, I’d see one side of Jake’s lips curved up in a whisper of a grin, and a telltale dimple peeking through on one cheek.
“You okay?” he questioned, finishing what he’d initially meant to say.
“Super,” I lied. “Wonderful. Peachy keen.”
A beat, then, “Peachy keen?”
