Page 19

Chapter 19

The one where Jeff gets homesick.

The diner is buzzing with background noise—clinking plates, the low hum of chatter, and the hiss of the espresso machine. The air smells like burnt coffee and maple syrup, but it’s comforting in its own way.

"Hey, what do you think would happen if a zombie apocalypse broke out right now?" Lucy asks, casually spitting her gum into her palm and tossing it into her lipstick-stained mug.

I glance up from my bagel, my eyebrows raising at the bright blue gum sitting there like it belongs. "Dude, that’s gross. Don’t do that."

She just shrugs. "It would probably start with that waiter over there," she says, pointing to the lanky guy trying not to spill a tray of coffees.

I consider it, then nod toward the barista behind the counter. The guy looks like he’s one deep stretch away from ripping through his shirt. "Nah, it’d be that guy. He’d go full 28 Days Later on this place."

Lucy laughs. "Or maybe it’d be me! I’d go across this table and—" She lunges at me, grabbing for my tank top like she’s about to tackle me.

"Whoa, chill out," I say, leaning back and brushing crumbs off my lap.

She settles back in her chair, still laughing, but then her expression shifts. "Jeff… I miss Nichole." Her voice is softer now, and she rests her chin on her palm, staring into her mug like it’s got answers.

"You two still talking a lot?" I ask, keeping my tone casual, even though the question weighs heavier than I’d like.

She nods. "Yeah, we talk, but it’s not the same." Then she gives me this weird look, tilting her head. "Don’t you ever think about Jamie? Like, how he’d react to stuff, or what he’d order for breakfast?"

"Not really," I say, shrugging, but the lie feels flimsy even as I say it.

"For real?" She slaps her knee, like I’ve just said something absurd. "That’s crazy! I think about Nichole all the time. I can’t stop."

"That sucks," I say, my voice flat. "You should try to think about other stuff, though. I mean, you still talk to her, right? Just… try to forget about her the rest of the day."

Lucy shakes her head, laughing. "Oh my God, I don’t get you at all."

I lean over the table, staring at her blankly. "You’re being dramatic."

"Fuck off," she huffs, shoving my face away. "When do you miss Jamie the most?"

"Nope, not doing this," I say, sitting back in my chair.

"Come on, Jeff, feel it," she teases, kicking me under the table. It hurts.

"Ow! Jesus." I glare at her, but she just grins.

"When do you miss Jamie?" she presses.

I sigh, knowing she’s not going to let it go. "Uh, when we’re talking on the phone, I guess."

Lucy bursts out laughing, and I grab my bagel plate, pretending to chuck it at her.

"Shut up. Why’d you even ask?"

"How can you miss him while you’re talking to him?"

"That’s a stupid question."

"What?!" She kicks me again, softer this time. "Explain."

"Because of his voice and stuff," I mumble, trying not to sound defensive.

"Because of his voice and stuff?" she repeats, making me sound like an idiot.

"Yeah. When I hear his voice, it’s like he’s here, but he’s not. I want to see his face, know what he’s really thinking. And then he talks about all the cool stuff he’s doing, and I wasn’t there. It sucks.

Lucy smiles at me, her teasing dropping for a second. "Yeah, it does suck."

"Well, now that you’ve ruined my Sunday," I say, mock-glaring at her while she smirks, "let’s go hit the beach."

"Good. I need to work on my tan," she quips, already standing up and grabbing her stuff.

Lucy seriously messes with my head. The whole time we’re sitting on the sand, I can’t stop thinking about Jamie.

The waves are like a soundtrack I can’t ignore—slow, steady, and unrelenting. They remind me of him. Not just his laugh, though that’s part of it. But the way Jamie’s always felt... dependable. Like the tides. Always coming back, no matter what. He’s always been my constant, even when I tried to convince myself otherwise.

I’ve never been to the beach with him. Never surfed with him, never watched the sunset paint the sky with colors you only see at the ocean. Never wandered the pier with him, teasing him until we split a funnel cake, powdered sugar sticking to his fingers, to his lips. I imagine the way he’d laugh, the way he’d crinkle his nose when I stole a piece.

And suddenly, it’s not just that I’m thinking about him. It’s that I miss him.

Lucy’s voice yanks me out of the thought.

"I’ve got this weird hair growing out of the side of my ass," she announces out of nowhere, breaking into my imaginary moment like a wrecking ball.

My brain screeches to a halt.

"What the hell are you talking about? Why are you so gross?" I ask, staring at her like she’s sprouted two heads.

She shrugs, unfazed. "I’ve got this long, thin hair on my hip that just keeps growing back. I keep pulling it out, and it just comes back. What the hell is that?!" She leans to the side, pulling her shorts down just enough to point at the spot.

"Lucy..." I hold up a hand, already regretting looking. She’s grinning at me, her tongue sticking out like some kind of devilish toddler. "That’s disgusting. Seriously, why are you like this?"

"You don’t get those?!"

"No, dude."

"What’s up with you today?" she asks, sitting up and brushing sand off her arm.

I hesitate, my tongue fumbling for a response. Her question feels more loaded than it probably is, and the weight of Jamie is still sitting on my chest like a boulder.

"I miss Jamie now," I admit, quieter than I meant to. "It’s your fault."

She laughs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and flops onto her back, shielding her face from the sun with her arm. "What would you do with Jamie if he were here right now?"

It feels like an innocent question, but it punches me in the gut. I want to laugh it off, toss out something stupid like "hit him with a volleyball" or "make him eat an olive sandwich." But my brain doesn’t cooperate, and Lucy’s still watching me like she expects a real answer.

"Go surfing," I say finally, and the second the words leave my mouth, I feel stupid.

Lucy barks out a laugh, turning her head toward me. "Surfing? Dude, you don’t surf, and neither does Jamie. I mean, I’d pay to see that, but come on."

"I used to surf," I say, shrugging.

Her eyes widen. "No way. When?"

"When I first moved here. Before Tiffany."

She tilts her head, squinting at me like she’s trying to picture me doing something physical. "I’ve only ever seen you play video games. Why’d you stop?"

"Tiffany didn’t like it."

Lucy smirks knowingly. "Oh yeah? Why not?"

"She thought I was cheating on her," I mutter, cringing even as I say it.

Lucy explodes into laughter. "Wait, what? Why?"

"People hit on me sometimes when I was out there," I say reluctantly, staring at the waves like they might swallow me whole.

"Well? Were you cheating?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No! What the hell kind of question is that, Lucy?!"

She throws her hands up like she’s innocent. "Just asking, man. You know, you could’ve just gone to a less crowded beach."

I shake my head, glancing back at the water. "Well, I liked this one."

Her laughter fades into a softer smile as she looks at me, tilting her head again. "You should go surfing again. Hell, I’ll come too. But seriously, Jeff... you should just do whatever the fuck you want. Stop caring so much about what other people think about you."

I blink, caught off guard by the shift in her tone.

"Just do whatever the fuck you want," she repeats, her voice quieter this time, like it’s not just a suggestion but something closer to a challenge.

The waves crash behind her words, pulling at something deep in me. Something I’ve ignored for too long.

I think about Jamie again—his laugh, his voice, the way he always looks at me with those big brown eyes like I'm someone worth knowing. And for a second, it feels like I can hear him in the waves, steady and constant, pulling me back.

Lucy stands up, brushing sand off her shorts. "Alright, the sun’s frying my brain. Let’s go before I forget my name."

I get up too, brushing off my legs. She’s annoying as hell sometimes, but she’s got a point. I never really listen to Lucy’s advice. She’s loud, impulsive, and half the time she’s messing with me just to get a reaction. But this time, her words stick, lingering in the air like the taste of salt on my tongue.

Maybe it is time I start doing what I want.

The thought feels foreign, almost reckless, like I’m breaking some unspoken rule I’ve always lived by. For years, I’ve let life pull me along—following after Coach, adhering to Tiffany’s plans, my parents’ expectations, even my own fears. It’s like I’ve been running on autopilot, chasing after everyone else’s version of who I should be.

And what I truly want...

The ache in my chest sharpens, spreading outward until it’s hard to breathe. I glance at the waves again, trying to ground myself, but all I can think about is Jamie. His laugh. The way he looked at me when we were kids, like I was the center of his world. Like I mattered more to him than anyone else.

I don’t know when I stopped feeling like that. Maybe it was when I walked away from him, convincing myself it was for the best. Or maybe it was before that, when I started burying pieces of myself to fit into someone else’s life.

But Jamie... Jamie was always different.

Being with him wasn’t about fitting in or following some script. It was easy, natural. Like breathing. And even though I tried to tell myself I didn’t need him, didn’t miss him, I do. God, I do.

What I want is to find my way back to him—not just to Jamie, but to the version of me that felt whole when I was with him. The version of me that didn’t feel so lost all the time.

It’s terrifying to admit, even to myself. What if it’s too late? What if I’ve already screwed things up beyond repair? But the thought of doing nothing, of letting this weight sit in my chest forever... that’s worse.

I don’t know what the next step looks like for Jamie and me. But Lucy’s right about one thing.

It’s time to stop overthinking and start doing.

And what I want… is to go home. To Jamie.

The thought is a steady drumbeat in my head, growing louder with every passing hour. It’s like I’ve cracked open a door I didn’t even realize was locked, and now I can’t stop myself from stepping through it. Thoughts of Jamie consume me all day.

By the time I get home, my heart is racing, thundering in my chest as I set my keys down and grab my phone. I don’t usually get nervous about calling Jamie, but this feels different.

I prop my phone up on the kitchen counter, hitting the video call button before I can second-guess myself. The ringing fills the quiet space, and I lean back, waiting. My fingers drum nervously against the edge of the counter, my mind a chaotic mess of everything I want to say.

The call connects, and suddenly, there he is. Jamie.

He’s sitting on his bed, his blonde hair messy and sticking up a little at the back. The sight of him makes my chest ache in that way it always does—warm and bittersweet.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft and familiar, his smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What’s up? You don’t usually call me like this. Did Lucy finally drive you over the edge? She's a gem.”

I laugh, the sound coming out shakier than I mean for it to. “Not yet. She’s trying, though.”

Jamie tilts his head, squinting at me like he’s reading between the lines. “You okay? …Something's up.”

I rub the back of my neck, my stomach flipping under his gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... been thinking about stuff.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Stuff, huh? That’s specific. Spill."

I hesitate, my pulse kicking up a notch. But this is Jamie. If I can’t say it to him, I can’t say it to anyone.

“Okay, but don’t laugh,” I warn, pointing a finger at the screen.

He smirks, leaning back against the pillows. “No promises.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. “I went surfing today. Or, well, that's not true... I went to the beach with Lucy. I didn’t actually get in the water, but I thought about it. Anyway, I realized... I used to love it. Surfing, I mean. It made me feel... free. Like myself. And I just gave it up because someone else didn’t like it.”

“Tiffany?” Jamie guesses, his tone sharper than usual.

“Yeah,” I admit, shrugging. “She didn’t trust me out there. Thought I’d cheat on her or something.”

Jamie’s face softens, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Annoyance, maybe. “That’s messed up, Jeff.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly, my gaze dropping to the counter. “But it wasn’t just her. It’s like... my whole life, I’ve been chasing what everyone else wants from me. And I don’t even know who I am.”

Jamie is quiet for a moment, and when I glance back at the screen, he’s watching me with that look of his. The one that always feels like he’s peeling back all my layers and seeing the parts of me I try to hide.

“That’s how I feel about photography,” he says finally, his voice softer now.

My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“When I’m behind the camera,” he explains, “it’s like... nothing else matters. It’s just me and what I see. I don’t have to think about who I’m supposed to be or what anyone expects from me. It’s the only time I feel completely... me.”

His words hit something deep in me, something I’ve been trying to put into words all day. “That’s exactly it,” I say. “That’s what I’ve been missing.”

Jamie smiles, a small, understanding curve of his lips. “Then maybe surfing’s your thing, like photography’s mine. Maybe it’s not just something you used to do—it’s something you need to do.”

I take a shaky breath, his words sinking in. But there’s more I need to say, more I need him to understand.

“It’s not just about surfing,” I say, my chest tightening. “It’s about... you.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You’re the one person who’s always made me feel like it’s okay to just... be me,” I continue, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Even when I tried to push you away, I always found myself coming back.”

Jamie stares at me, his expression unreadable, and my heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest.

“I want you to come visit again,” I finally say, quieter than I mean to. “I want to show you more of LA—my life here. The parts of me I haven’t shared with anyone else. The places I know you’ll actually like.”

There’s this pause where the only sound is the faint hum of the video connection. It’s agonizing. Then Jamie smiles, and it’s that soft, warm smile of his that punches me in the chest every time. Just like that, I can finally breathe again.

“Okay, Jeff,” he says, his voice steady, but I can hear the smirk behind it. “I’ll take some time off and come visit. But only if you promise to take me surfing. And—” He leans closer to the camera, that damn grin growing wider. “I get to pick your bathing suit.”

I blink at him. “Are you kidding? Hell no. I know exactly what you’d pick out, and for the record, I wear a wetsuit—”

“Lame,” he cuts in, lounging back on his bed like this is just another Tuesday. “No eye candy, no deal.”

I just stare at him, my brain short-circuiting for a second. But then I shake my head, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, you want eye candy? Is that what you want?”

His grin falters for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting me to call his bluff, but he recovers fast, resting his chin on his hand. “Always.”

Without breaking eye contact, I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it off in one motion, tossing it to the floor. Then I lean in close to the camera, giving him the full view of my bare chest. “How’s that, huh? Enough for you?”

The tension between us builds in the silence that lingers, humming through the phone like static electricity. His gaze stays locked on mine, dark and unflinching, sending a rush of heat straight to my cheeks. My skin prickles.

Jamie leans closer to the camera, his smirk returning with a vengeance. “You think you’re clever, huh?”

“I know I am,” I shoot back, holding his stare and tugging my shorts a little lower, just enough to tease. “You’re the one who keeps watching.”

“Oh, I’m watching,” he says, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “And if you’re trying to drive me insane, congrats, it’s working.”

My heart’s hammering now, my palms clammy against the waistband of my shorts. It’s a game, but there’s something more underneath it—a heat, a pull. I take a step back, still grinning, and toss a wink at the camera. “Good to know. Anything else you’d like, Your Highness?”

Jamie exhales sharply, shaking his head, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I’m trying really hard not to make a list of directions for you right now.”

“Go ahead,” I tease, dragging the fabric lower inch by agonizing inch, stopping just before it gets interesting but pulling the waistband taut, stretching it as tight as it’ll go. I know exactly what I’m doing, and judging by the way Jamie’s eyes narrow, so does he. “I’m all ears.”

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face, and I catch a glimpse of pink on his cheeks. “You’re an idiot.”

“And yet,” I counter, pointing at the screen, “you’re still watching me pretty closely there, Williams. So who’s the idiot, really?”

“You,” he fires back immediately, but his voice softens at the edges. There’s something in his eyes now, something deeper than the teasing, and it makes my throat tighten.

“Jamie,” I say quietly, stepping closer to the phone and placing my hands on the counter, the playfulness fading just a little.

His gaze meets mine through the screen, steady and open, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

“You make me feel like this... like I can just be me,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “No one else does that. No one else gets me like you do.”

Jamie’s expression softens, his smirk slipping away entirely. “Jeff...”

“I mean it,” I say, my chest tightening. “I don’t know what this is—us, this... thing between us—but I know it’s real. I feel it every time I talk to you, every time I see you. And I don’t want to lose it.”

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but I press on.

“I want you here,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper now. “Not just on the phone. Not just... like this. I want you with me. I want you to come visit, see my world, be part of it. Be part of me.”

Jamie’s eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the connection. Then he exhales, his shoulders relaxing as his lips curve into a small, genuine smile.

“Okay,” he says softly, his voice steady but warm. “I’ll take time off… I'll come visit. Just tell me when, Jeff.”

“Soon,” I say, the word slipping out before I even think about it. “As soon as you can.”

Jamie nods, and for the first time in forever, it feels like I’m not chasing something impossible. Like maybe I’m finally where I’m supposed to be—with him.