Page 19 of Do You Ship It

The world feels like it’s been tipped back into balance; I have plans with the girls to keep me busy, I’m on top of all my schoolwork, there’s no weirdness with Anissa in the college hallways and we chat often online, and Jake is finally texting me back properly a bit more.

And, most importantly, the Discord chat between us hardly stops.

So, on Sunday, I do the unthinkable, and I show up to watch my crush’s football match.

Daphne thought it might be a bit needy (her own recent attempt with the rugby match was totally fruitless and now they’re sort-of not talking anymore), but Chloe and Nikita agreed that it was a worthwhile move; Evie said that knowing Jake, he’d need the extra push anyway.

It didn’t used to be weird, when I’d go to watch Jake play football. One of the other boys in our group was on the same local team, and we’d all go along to cheer them on for an important match, or just to hang out on the sidelines when the weather was good. We’d do it for the girls’ hockey matches, too.

Except now, when I show up, I’m very aware that I’m here alone and that most of the other girls shivering on the sidelines in the wet, late October drizzle are clearly girlfriends of some of the players. There are parents and friends around, too, but not so many that I can just melt into the crowd.

The teams are both doing warm-ups, and Max spots me first.

He’s stretching his hamstring, but stands up straight when he notices me, staring and staring and God , is he for real? It’s like he’s seen a ghost. Do I have something on my face? Do I really look so out of place? I’m in a navy rain mac and I’ve brought my brolly, and I’m even wearing some sensible boots because it’s so wet and muddy. It’s not as if I’ve come dressed for maximum ‘ask me on a date already Jake!’ seduction – for a change.

You’d think I’d shown up in my own set of elf ears, for all he’s staring.

Determined to one-up him at his own standoffish game, I give him a cheery smile and a wave so overenthusiastic it must be blatantly obvious that I’m being facetious.

Then Jake says something to Max and straightens out of his own stretch, turning to follow his gaze – and spotting me, doing my stupid wave and goofy smile.

I drop it, but Jake’s already jogging over, laughing, and pulls me into a hug so tight he practically lifts me off my feet. I laugh too, my umbrella falling out of the way, Jake’s damp football shirt turning my cheek wet. Over his shoulder, I see Max coming towards us, too, his dark eyebrows drawn low.

I’ve seen Jake in his football kit a hundred times. Not these colours, but it’s all the same thing. His narrow shoulders and lean frame, all sharp angles beneath his blue jersey, matching socks pulled up high over his shin-guards.

But my gaze snags on Max before I can help it, and I find myself doing a double-take.

Does he … Does he look … good ?

His legs are thicker than Jake’s, corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair, and even with his long hair pulled back from his face in a silly man-bun, it looks good . It makes his cheekbones look higher, his jawline more defined without his hair hiding it a bit. Stockier than Jake, Max somehow makes him look boyish by comparison, softer and younger, while he looks more …

More …

More something , anyway, and it triggers a flurry of butterflies in my stomach that I point-blank refuse to acknowledge.

They’re just because of Jake, because he’s giving me a cwtch, that’s all.

And definitely not because of how good Max looks in his football kit.

Besides, no matter how flattering a football kit is, it cannot make up for such a heinous personality.

‘Cerys!’ Jake exclaims, setting me back down. ‘What’re you doing here?’

‘Oh, you know. I thought I’d come see the match. A bit like old times.’

I bump my shoulder to his and give him a smile that – I hope – borders between cheeky and flirtatious. By now, though, Max has joined us, with his impeccable timing as always.

My smile turns a bit rigid, but I face him anyway. ‘Hi.’

‘This is … a surprise,’ he says.

Oh, I’m sorry, Max, do you think I’m intruding on your quality time with your best friend? Tough luck, pal. This is what it feels like.

Not, of course, that I’m here to spite Max. I really am here for Jake. But it’s an unexpectedly good side-effect, which might be vindictive of me, but I can’t bring myself to care too much. Max just has a way of bringing out that side of me.

‘I just thought it’s been ages since I saw you,’ I say, which is half in response to Max, though I direct it to Jake. ‘I’ve missed you.’

Jake sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Yeah, sorry, Cer. Things have just been a bit … intense, lately. And I’m sorry about skipping out on the Wednesday watch-parties, but sounds like you’re enjoying the show?’

Max gives a short breath of laughter, giving me a pointed look I can’t distinguish. It doesn’t feel like his usual judgement and accusation, but whatever it is, I’m not getting it. Aware that I’m staring back at him now, I say, ‘Thanks for putting me on to the audiobooks, by the way.’

‘Sure thing.’ He nods once, then scuffs the toe of his shoe against the grass.

God, am I really that awful to talk to? Is it such a chore for him to be halfway polite?

Fine. Whatever.

Jake is as oblivious as ever to the tension between the two of us, and clasps Max’s arm before saying to me, ‘Hey, actually, now you’re here – I’ve been meaning to tell you! One of the guys at college is throwing a house party for Bonfire Night next week. You should come!’

‘Are … Bonfire Night parties a thing, now? Are we not doing Halloween parties anymore?’ I ask, glancing between the pair of them, feeling like I’ve missed something. Is this a guy thing? A Jake’s college thing? Have Halloween parties looped back around from being cool to childish once more?

They both share a look; Max scoffs, and Jake rolls his eyes.

‘We tried,’ Max says. ‘But most people decided they couldn’t be bothered with costumes. Nobody cared enough.’

Costumes . I bet he was going to show up in his OWAR cosplay.

Thank God it’s not a dress-up party, I think suddenly. They might’ve expected me to wear my Lady di Silver outfit. I don’t know how I would’ve explained that to a group of total strangers.

Jake tells me, ‘The guy’s parents are away that weekend, and some of the year above are coming too; they’re old enough to buy fireworks, and they’re going to bring some drinks.’

‘Right. Yeah! Sounds …’

Oh, God. This changes things. A proper no-adults, boozy house party.

I mean, it’s not like we haven’t had a few drinks at a party before. Ginny was always great about slipping us a bottle of wine to share around, and someone had usually got their hands on a few ciders, but never enough for things to get properly messy. And whoever was hosting usually had their parents down the road at the pub or shut away upstairs out the way, so it wasn’t like things were completely unsupervised …

This sounds like a real house party.

My mind suddenly fills with images from American teen romcoms: red Solo cups and beer pong at dining tables, couples snogging on sofas and in bedrooms, couples maybe doing more than snogging in bedrooms, vodka shots and rowdy games of Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever …

Could this be what me and Jake need, to break the ice and move our relationship from friendly to romantic at last? A kiss in a game of Spin the Bottle, stepping away from the party to get a quiet moment of fresh air together, sitting on a step outside a door, huddled close against the cold?

‘Sounds brilliant,’ I say, my voice cracking only a little. I force my smile wider to make up for it.

‘You could stay in Gin’s room, if you want. She’s not coming home for reading week, so it’ll be empty.’

‘Oh! Um …’

A sleepover at Jake’s? Yes! No? Yes. I don’t …

‘Maybe! I’ll see.’

‘And you could bring some of the girls from St David’s, if you wanted? The more the merrier! It’ll be a lot of Colleg Carreg lads anyway … And I mean, I already know Evie a bit, so that wouldn’t be weird, would it?’

Immediately, I’m torn. I’d love for the girls to meet Jake and really get the measure of us together, tell me if they think we do have chemistry or if it’s all in my head, and I think it’d earn me some brownie points as a friend to be inviting them to a party, which definitely can’t hurt.

But if they meet Jake, they’ll meet Max, and Max is …

Well, he wears his fandom on his sleeve.

Or around his neck … literally . Even under his football jersey, he’s wearing that rope-chain necklace he wears with his Moonwalker cosplay. With Max, there’d be no escaping the boys’ love for Of Wrath and Rune – or mine.

And I’m just still not ready for that to be a firm, cemented part of my personality. The girls were kind of judgemental about Comic Con – would they cut me out altogether if they found out I was one of the nerds who had a fun time there? And didn’t just go for a guy’s sake?

Jake smiles at me, expectant, waiting , and I glance past him to Max, who’s watching me closely like I’m bound to say the wrong thing, and –

Then it hits me.

‘You know what?’ I tell Jake smoothly. ‘I know exactly who to invite.’