Page 28 of Mr. Brightside
“I told you my dad was an ass. He beat me when I was little. Then he found other ways to make my life hell once I was old enough to fight back. I spent most of my teen years just trying to survive, one day to the next.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” I murmur. “But I appreciate your honestly. So why did your dad want you to get married so badly? That’s the only requirement for your inheritance, right? Just to get married?”
He lifts the package of Skittles to his mouth, pours some in, and chews slowly.
“My dad hated me,” he offers nonchalantly before pinning me with his gaze. “I don’t really want to psychoanalyze it. It’s something I’ve accepted. He was a bigot, but it wasn’t just about my bisexuality. He hated me long before I tried to come out to him. I’ve always been the black sheep of my family. He probably didn’t think I’d go through with it—getting married, that is—if he put it in his will. Joke’s on him.” He smirks before glancing back up at the screen.
Jesus Christ. When he promised to be honest, I had no idea he was going to open up like this. His candidness surprises me, but I don’t want to miss this opportunity. There’s so much about him I want to know. We’re going to be married in a few days, after all. This may be my one chance to really get to see past the mask he wears for the rest of the world.
Besides, there’s no way I can revert to questions about his favorite beer or pizza toppings now that we’ve taken it to this level.
“What did you mean when you said you tried to come out to your dad?”
He snaps his head in my direction, then gives me this crooked smile. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”
I blush at his praise but stay quiet, intent on waiting him out.
He sighs, then mutters something along the lines of “you asked” before taking a sip of Cheerwine.
“When I was sixteen, something bad happened—with someone older. It stopped before I was physically harmed, but it still scared the shit out of me. Rhett helped me out that night, and then I tried to tell my dad about it. His reaction… was horrible. He called me names. He told me I was probably asking for it. To be drugged and almost assaulted. He spit on me in disgust.”
My eyes widen in horror—both for what his dad did, and for Jake’s ability to just sit here and recall the incident with such a calm demeanor.
“Jake…” I feel compelled to reach across and console him, but I let my hand drop. I don’t know how he likes to be comforted. And I don’t know what sort of lasting trauma he deals with because of what happened.
“Being shoved back into the closet when I came out to my dad was honestly more traumatizing than almost getting sexually assaulted. It ate at me for a long time, but I eventually found ways to push past the memories and move on.”
How did this get so heavy so fast? Jake has literally only ever been jokes and good times around me. The fact that he’s opening up like this—taking his promise seriously and answering every question I ask as honestly as possible… I swallow past the lump in my throat, the weighted significance of this moment holding my emotions hostage.
I feel for him on such a deep level. I’m also low-key panicking that he took this honesty thing so seriously. If he’s being this candid with me, he’s going to expect the same level of intimacy in return when he’s the one asking questions.
“Is that why you went to both Archway and Hampton?” I ask, desperate for a subject change. This is supposed to be a date. I have to lighten the mood—fast.
He smiles before he answers this time. “It is. What happened… the guy worked at Archway Prep. It was just too hard to go back and face what I had done. What had happened that night, I mean.”
I don’t miss the self-deprecation in his original word choice, but I don’t call him out on it, either.
“Tori’s the one who convinced me to switch schools, actually. She and Rhett know what happened that night. Back in high school, the three of us were the very best of friends. They’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to family. They helped me more than I think either of them knows.”
His eyes light up when he talks about his best friend, Rhett, and one of my best friends, Tori. It’s wild to think that they’re married, and soon we will be, too. We could go on a double date next time they’re in town.
Jake stretches one arm out and rests it on the back of my seat before he hits me with another playful smirk. “What else ya got for me?”
I like that he’s undeterred by this conversation. It’s refreshing to be on a date without worrying about the subtext of every word or action. I guess that’s another benefit to this marriage with benefits thing.
“How did you, Tori, and Rhett become the three musketeers?”
That one has him grinning from ear to ear. “Obviously Tori and Rhett were inevitable. Rhett and I met at Safety Town before kindergarten—our last names are Wheeler and Whitely, so of course they lined us up. The first picture taken of us together is the two of us hanging out the windows of the Safety Town fire house. We were wild back then.”
It’s my turn to hit him with a pointed look. “Opposed to now?”
Chuckling, he brushes his hand down my arm. “Rhett settled down,” he relents. “But I guess I still haven’t been tamed.” He leans in then, circling my wrist with his hand in an iron-tight grip that has me craving more. “Is that what you want from me, baby? You want to tame me?”
I bite hard on my lower lip, silently willing him to kiss me. But then I come to my senses. Did he just call me baby?
“I don’t think you should call me that,” I reason, pulling my arm out of his hold and creating more space between us. My brain instantly protests over the lack of contact.
“Oh. You don’t like it?” he asks earnestly.