Page 17

Chapter 17

The one where Jeff’s journal roasts him to hell and back.

"Hey, I have to confess something to you," Jamie says suddenly, his head resting on my chest as we lie in bed. It’s Tuesday night, and my flight is tomorrow. The thought of leaving him twists my stomach into knots.

"...What, you want to go again or something?" I grin, even though I’m not sure I can. But honestly? I’m up for trying.

"No... I mean, yes, but no. That’s not it."

I prop myself up on my elbows, looking down at him. His head falls back onto the pillow, and his face is frustratingly unreadable.

"What did you do?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. I scan his face for clues, but Jamie’s always been a goddamn expert at keeping me guessing.

"James," I tease, letting the name roll off my tongue just to mess with him. "How did you cheat on me already?"

Jamie laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that’s contagious, even when I don’t want it to be. "Hey, you can’t call me that. Shit, dude. James? It’s weird… Cut that out."

I chuckle, realizing I haven’t called him "James" since we were kids. It’s enough to make him laugh, but he’s still giving me that look, like he’s about to drop something heavy.

"Also, don’t ever fucking say that again," he says, his tone suddenly serious as he looks me dead in the eyes. "About cheating, I’d never do that to you."

My heart races at his words, and I try to calm myself, but my face feels hot.

"Well, what did you do then? Spill it."

Jamie hesitates, then sighs. "I didn’t just read your diary when I was at your place. I... ripped out one of the pages."

I freeze, stunned. "Dude, it’s a journal. "

Jamie bursts into laughter, throwing his head back. "No way! It was totally a diary, Jeff. I read the whole thing."

My face turns bright red. I shove him by the shoulder, playfully but hard enough to make him flop up and down into the mattress, still laughing like a maniac. I lie back beside him, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm my embarrassment.

He doesn’t let me off the hook, of course. Jamie rolls over and starts rummaging through his bedside table.

Oh God. Please don’t let him pull out that page. Please, no.

And then he does. Fuck.

"When I got to sixth period," Jamie starts dramatically, holding the paper up in the air like it’s some ancient relic, "I saw that Alice Belland didn’t wear a bra today, and it was so hot. Her boobs were like—"

He waves the page between us for effect, a torn-out sheet from my journal, lined and smudged with my own hurried handwriting.

"Jamie, fuck, please stop..."

"Okay, okay," he says, laughing so hard he can barely get the words out. "I’ll skip to the good part."

I groan, running a hand through my hair as he settles back down beside me. He skims the page, his grin widening.

"‘Today Jamie scored our last touchdown, and we won. It was awesome. Coach gave us these sweet T-shirts with our names on them.’"

That’s not so bad. I let out a relieved sigh.

Jamie keeps reading, his tone dramatic. "‘I got to hang out with Jamie after school, and Mom let us order pizza because she was going out on a date with Dad. Also, I told Dad we both made the high school football team for next year, and he was so happy.’"

The calmness I feel is short-lived. My stomach knots up again. "Wait... what year was this?"

Jamie ignores me and keeps reading. "‘I was playing our new game in my room with Jamie. I tried to order pizza, but he didn’t want olives on it, which is so stupid because pepperoni and olives is basically the best pizza—’"

"Jamie, what year was this? "

"Dude, olives are gross," he says dismissively.

I know what year it is. It’s our last year of middle school. Shit. I lunge for the paper, but Jamie’s faster.

He holds it up to his face, scanning quickly. "‘Jamie kept making fun of me, and it was pissing me off—’"

Oh no. Fuck. I stare at the ceiling and cover my face with a hand.

"He’s lucky he’s my best friend, because I would’ve probably punched him, but I tickled him instead. And he looked at me weird. So then I kissed him by accident.’"

I peek through my fingers, bracing myself for Jamie’s reaction.

"He kissed me back. He put his hand on my stomach and slid it down. No one has ever touched me there like that, ever. It was really fucking hot. Like really, really fucking hot. His lips were soft and tasted like Sprite, ‘cause he drank practically all the Sprite we ordered. He was being an asshole about it, actually."

I just lay there, letting Jamie keep reading. The page goes on about how I accidentally slipped my tongue into his mouth and how much I liked it. Apparently, I was also incredibly pissed about only getting one cup of Sprite, because the topic comes up three more times.

Jamie’s struggling to hold back laughter the entire time, and I’m doing my best to sink deeper into the mattress and disappear completely. He flips the page over, grinning like a maniac.

"But that’s all that happened. Is that weird? I stopped to play the game again, but Jamie kept looking at me like it was weird. I hope he wasn’t too weirded out. It was kinda dumb. I dunno why I did it, it was basically an accident. It just made me feel good, I guess. Jamie is my best friend in the whole world, but... I dunno why I did it. I hope he doesn’t tell anybody.

When Mom and Dad came home and Jamie left, I still had a boner—"

"Jamie," I groan, cutting him off as he puts the paper down and looks at me.

"Should I read the rest of it out loud? ‘Cause it gets pretty graphic after that, when you talk about what you did in the bathroom. I don’t know why you go into so much detail in your diary about your dick—"

"You can stop. I remember," I mutter, glaring at him. "Jamie, why the hell did you keep that?"

"For the jerking-off part, obviously," he deadpans, smiling like the asshole he is.

I glare harder, and he softens. "'Because it’s when you first kissed me," he says more seriously.

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing this just was for me?" I ask, still blushing.

"Well, yeah," he says with a smirk. "Why do you think I read it?"

I can’t help the smile that sneaks onto my face. I roll onto my side and start tickling him, and Jamie squirms hysterically, trying to escape to the other side of the bed.

"Quit it!" he yelps, blocking my hands with his arms.

I lunge closer, but he keeps fending me off. "Quit it, Jeff! I was just messing with you!" he shouts, breathless with laughter.

I pause, hovering over him, giving him a questioning look.

Jamie’s smile fades into something softer. "I took it because it’s when you first kissed me," he says. His voice drops, quieter now. "Do you have any idea how many times I replayed that kiss in my head?"

I stare at him, caught off guard.

"A lot," he continues. "You kissed me for, like, twenty minutes by accident."

I burst out laughing, trying to stay serious but failing miserably. "It wasn’t for that long."

"Yeah, dude, it was," he insists, completely certain.

I study his face, still trying to read him like I always do. Jamie doesn’t let me in easily, but when he does, it hits me like a freight train.

"I had such a huge crush on you, even before you did that," he adds softly.

"I know... now," I admit, searching his face. "Why?"

Jamie blinks, surprised. "What? Are you kidding me?"

"No..."

"Jeff, you were—" He stops, giving me this look, like I’m dense for even asking. "You were always, like, the coolest kid in school. Everyone loved you. I have no idea why you didn’t stop hanging out with me after elementary school. You probably wouldn’t have been friends with me in middle school if I hadn’t started playing football. I only played because of you."

"You didn’t like football?"

Jamie shrugs. "No, I liked it... once I gave it a chance. I ended up being really good at it. Am I right?"

I laugh. "Yeah, you were decent, I guess..."

Jamie grins at that, but I know the truth. He was the best player on the team in high school, hands down. I just can’t bring myself to admit it out loud. Instead, I lie there, trying to wrap my head around the fact that he started playing football just to stay close to me.

"Okay, whatever." Jamie rolls his eyes but keeps going. "You were my best friend, and you were super hot, Jeff. That’s why. How could I not have a crush on you?"

I feel my face heat up again. Damn it.

Jamie picks the paper back up, holding it like some sacred text. "That night felt like it honestly didn’t even happen. Like I dreamt it or something. I never, ever thought you’d actually kiss me. And then you did it by accident again. And again. And again. "

My blush deepens, and before Jamie can add more fuel to the fire, I finally snatch the paper out of his hands.

"Hey! Don’t you dare crumple that up!" he yells, practically throwing himself onto my chest as he tries to grab it back.

I hold it just out of reach. "I kept doing it because you wanted me to. You kept giving me that weird face when we hung out in private."

Jamie props himself up on his elbows, staring down at me with that smug look of his. "Yeah, okay... What about sophomore year of high school, under the bleachers?"

I freeze. Shit. That one was definitely me.

After the game, Jamie had been walking around shirtless, just in his football leggings, like it was the most casual thing in the world. And maybe it was for him. But for me? It was torture. I’d spent the better part of an hour trying to act normal while fighting the urge to drag him somewhere private.

It took three tries—three painfully awkward attempts to get him alone—before I finally managed to pull him under the bleachers. The second we were out of sight, I couldn’t stop myself. I pressed him against one of the posts and kissed him like I’d been holding my breath all night.

We were so caught up in it, we didn’t even realize half the team had started looking for us. I still remember the sound of their voices calling our names, echoing through the field, while we stayed hidden, tangled up in each other.

"And what about that time after the pool," Jamie says, his grin widening. "When we were in swim trunks, and you pulled me onto your lap—"

"No, no, no. We’re not talking about that one," I cut him off, heart pounding.

Jamie’s grin morphs into a full-on laugh, and my stomach drops. Crap. He does remember. Of course, he does. The way he’s looking at me says it all—smug and amused, like he’s been sitting on this memory for years, just waiting for the perfect moment to use it against me.

I should’ve known. In hindsight, how could he not have noticed that I’d come in my swim trunks? God, I was such an idiot.

"What’s your point, Jamie?" I ask, trying to steer this conversation into less humiliating territory.

Jamie’s smile softens. "My point is that you’ve always been..." He pauses, looking at me in a way that makes my chest ache. "...the best thing."

I don’t know what to say to that.

"That piece of paper," Jamie continues, glancing at it in my hand, "made me feel better about everything when I read it... after we argued."

"Why?" I ask, the word slipping out before I can stop it. I’ve been asking "why" a lot tonight, like a kid trying to get to the bottom of some mystery.

Jamie shrugs, his gaze flickering down for a moment. "Sometimes I felt like you were just messing around with me. Even... back at your place in LA. I wasn’t sure what was happening. I was scared you were still playing games, and I just... I couldn’t handle it anymore, Jeff. I went through all that back in school, and I didn’t want to do it again."

Crap. Jamie’s face falls, and the sight of it feels like a punch to the gut.

"But Jamie," I say quickly, holding up the paper, "that stuff you just read was all over the place. There’s nothing here."

"Yeah, there is," Jamie says, looking back at me. His voice softens again. "I think it was the ‘on accident’ kiss part... I like that part. It’s adorable."

I stifle a laugh at my own expense.

"It made me remember when I was still figuring things out too," Jamie adds. "All this stuff. My sexuality. It made it real."

I glance at the paper, then back at him, my chest tightening. "You know," I say with a small smile, "I hate to break this to you, but... it really wasn’t an accident."

Jamie bursts into laughter, his head tipping back.

"Oh, yeah?" he says sarcastically.

"Yeah," I reply, grinning now. "Yeah, I know this sounds crazy, but… I kissed you on purpose," I say, watching Jamie’s grin spread even wider.

God, his smile. He’s got really nice teeth, and when he grins like that, it’s distracting as hell. He’s fucking gorgeous, and it’s almost unfair.

"I had a raging hard-on for you, over the way you were looking at me before I even tickled you—"

"Jeff!" Jamie cuts me off, laughing, though his cheeks flush a little.

"What?"

"...I know. Both things."

"Good," I say with a smirk, leaning back into the bed and pulling him closer.

"You’re not going to apologize?" Jamie asks, raising an eyebrow.

"For what?!" I snap, more defensive than I mean to be. What did I do now?

"For giving me blue balls for, like, most of our relationship..."

"I did not."

"You totally did. You kept chickening out."

"No, it just never went anywhere—"

"Yeah, because you kept chickening out," Jamie says, his tone teasing but firm. "I would’ve let you do it, you know. If you wanted to... You always stopped short. God, you stopped every time I thought you were actually going to do more..."

I glance over and see the page from my journal lying on the other side of the bed. Looking back down at Jamie, I raise an eyebrow.

"It’s really cute that you think I knew what I was doing," I say, deadpan.

Jamie reaches up, his hand warm as he caresses the side of my face.

"You didn’t have to know what you were doing, Jeff. I didn’t care."

His voice is soft, and the honesty in it makes my chest ache in the best way. I lean down, kissing him softly on the lips before breaking away to press another kiss to his temple.

"I almost took the pages where you wrote about that one time you almost did it," Jamie says, his tone lighter now. He pauses, looking up at me. "Before you left."

For a second, I’m blank. I don’t even remember writing about that. It was probably one of the last things I scribbled in there before I stopped keeping the journal.

"Which time was that?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Jamie pretends to be insulted. "Wow... you don’t even remember?"

I shake my head.

"In your car… Before you told me you were moving," he says, his voice softening.

The memory hits me, slow at first, then all at once. Jamie’s still watching me as he continues.

"You said you had to tell me something. Instead, we just drove out to the desert. You made out with me for... a long time. You unzipped your pants."

Oh, I remember now.

The details after that blur a little, though. Probably because of what happened next—Jamie breaking down after I told him I was leaving Nevada.

"You wrote three pages about what you were going to do with me before you left," Jamie says, his voice dipping. "I just couldn’t bring myself to rip that many out. I felt too bad."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Shit, I remember that now."

"Well, I’m kind of glad you didn’t do it, because making out with me before leaving was mean enough," Jamie says, glaring playfully. "So… don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing, Jeffrey."

I brush some of his blonde hair out of his eyes, letting my hand linger for a moment. "Jamie, you know how I felt..."

My voice trails off, but it doesn’t matter. I know he does. It’s written all over his face, in the way he’s looking at me now.

"Confused? Because you had a hard-on, by accident?" Jamie asks, his voice teasing.

I laugh a little. "No. I was mad. Jamie... I thought something was seriously wrong with me for how I felt about you. For a long time."

Jamie goes quiet for a moment, then asks, softer now, "...Is there something wrong with what we’re doing?"

"No," I say quickly, smiling at him. "I’m just kind of... slow. Jamie, I’m sorry. Back at my apartment... I’ve never seen you that mad at me before."

"I was drunk," Jamie says, brushing it off. But I know better. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, but I can’t let it go.

"Nah, that was real, Jamie," I say gently. "I know when you’re pissed off at me."

He shifts uncomfortably, and then, out of nowhere, he blurts, "I don’t like that you cried." His voice is quiet, but I can hear how much it’s still bothering him.

"We don’t have to talk about that part," I say, looking away. The memory stings—me slipping up and crying when Jamie said he was leaving. Everything just came crashing down all at once, and I couldn’t hold it in.

But now, I need to know. "You’re still going to tell me if I piss you off, right? You promised, on the phone." I can feel the fear bubbling up. I don’t want to lose this Jamie—the one who’s talking to me, who’s really letting me in for once.

"Jeff," Jamie says, smiling up at me. "I promise. But you have to stop acting like you don’t know what you’re doing." He reaches up and squeezes my arm, his touch grounding me. "Because you totally know what you’re doing."

"Maybe," I say with a grin, "but do you? Because I hate to break this to you, but you’re a million times out of my league."

Jamie smacks my arm. "No, I’m not. Stop."

"You’re a ten, and I’m like a five," I counter, dead serious.

Jamie’s laughing now. "What? Are you fucking kidding me?!" He pauses, his eyes scanning me up and down like he’s appraising me. I start feeling good about myself again—until his smirk returns.

"...You’re a six, at least," he teases.

That does it. I lunge at him, tickling him mercilessly. Jamie twists and squirms, managing to wiggle out from under me for half a second before I grab him and pull him back, pinning him down into the mattress.