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I’m not surprised. Jaxon guards his feelings and what’s going on in his life from everyone. He’s secretive, and if he cares about something, he doesn’t talk about it. Even baseball. Anything where he has to say, “I feel…” he just won’t. It’s like trying to get emotional intelligence from a brick wall.
“He hasn’t mentioned her?” Who am I kidding? Jaxon is the biggest gatekeeper alive. He ain’t telling nobody shit unless they ask, and even then, you’re only gonna get the bare minimum. But the fact he hasn’t mentioned her makes my stomach do a weird flip. Maybe it’s not serious.
“Nah, he hasn’t. Oh, shit.” Jameson smacks my shoulder, hard enough that two girls in front of us look back. “That’s who he was playing Fortnite with.”
My heart drops. “What?” I whisper, putting my finger to my lips.
He lowers his voice, leaning closer. “I hopped on after practice the other night and he was in doubles. I thought it was Kingston. Must’ve been Ink.”
“Inez,” I correct, trying to steady the nerves raging inside me. My hands shake. I set down my coffee before I spill it.
“Yeah, whatever.” He doesn’t look up from his phone now. “I don’t care.”
And honestly, Jameson probably doesn’t. But I do. I care so much it physically hurts.
Doubles? Never mind the fact he was gaming with her, even though it makes me want to throw up—I don’t even know what that means. I ask anyway. “What’s doubles?”
He’s still looking at his phone. “It’s where you spawn in the same world and try to stay alive together.”
Well, fuck me. That’s even worse than I thought. My heart stays in my stomach and it feels like my other organs are attacking it. They probably are. Ganging up, screaming, “Bitch, stop loving Jaxon Evan Ryan!”
My heart doesn’t listen. All it hears is one devastating word.
Together.
They did something together. Jaxon bonded with her, and what did I get all summer? Late-night hookup texts and broken promises of a future. Maybe that was my fault because I allowed it. I allowed the situationship. Fuck, I suggested it. Sex but no commitment. I thought if I didn’t pressure him, if I was the “cool girl” who didn’t need labels, he’d eventually choose me.
He didn’t.
Fucking shit. What if they’re having sex? I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about that until now.
If I thought them talking or playing stupid video games was bad, imagining Jaxon’s hands on her body is even worse. God, I think I’m gonna be sick.
“Oh, damn.” Jameson elbows me. “I got an idea.”
I blink slowly, wishing all this would go away. The thoughts, the love I have for Jaxon—I want to snap my fingers and be anywhere but here, obsessing over him. Anywhere I wouldn’t have to watch him fall for someone else in real time.
“I don’t know if I wanna hear it.”
“You do.” He waves his hand in my face and leans in closer. “Pretend to date me to make him jealous. They do it all the time in movies.”
“What? No way. Callie would kill me.” Plus, I’ve seen enough rom-coms to know how that ends. Not well.
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “She’d be in on it. Besides, she’s snapping some dude on the soccer team.”
Judging by how dejected he sounds, this bothers him. Welcome to the club, buddy. We meet Thursdays to cry about unrequited love and eat our feelings.
I think about his plan for half a second. “I don’t know.” I’m not the type to make Jaxon jealous. I don’t have any interest in dating or even talking to other guys. I know that’s sad for a twenty-year-old in college who should be out there, but that’s never been me. I have exactly fifteen contacts in my phone who aren’t family, and I don’t have Snapchat or any of those other apps for talking to guys.
Social media just makes you feel like you have options. All my friends say, “Oh, I’m snapping this new guy,” and turns out they’ve been snapping ten other girls at the same time. I pay attention to the ones who love me and know me in real life—the ones I don’t need to text to have a relationship with.
My dad told me one thing when I asked for social media and he said no: Social media makes you think there are fish in the sea, but ain’t none of them worth catching. He was speaking facts y’all.
“You’re right. We can’t pretend date.” Jameson smiles. “You’d fall for me.”
“Bro, no I wouldn’t. You’re too short for me.”
He gives me the what the fuck expression he does so well. Jameson kinda has a resting bitch face for a guy, and he plays it well. “Bitch, I’m five-eleven. Why you short-shaming me?”