Page 6 of You Started It

CHAPTER SIX

Axel and I have technically been fake-dating for almost two weeks, since the night I ran over his bike. We made it official on the first day of school—that’s when we had our public debut as a couple—and still, we have yet to come up with a contract. Every time I bring up the subject, he finds a way to deflect. He’s too focused on choreographing his next TikTok while balancing a new school and job.

“You don’t need to drop me off,” Axel says as we pull out of the school parking lot, his hands playing a drum solo on his knees. “Your uncle wants to meet at your place. I’m working a shift tonight.”

“He’s making you work on a Friday night?”

“I asked for more shifts.”

“Is this about Betty? Because I’m trying to scrounge up the money to pay you back. I’ve been on a book-buying ban for six days, and I’ve only purchased three books.”

“That’s great self-control.” He chuckles while adjusting his baseball hat. “It’s not for Betty, though. I need the money for my cousin’s wedding party. I have to buy a suit.”

“Your parents won’t cover the cost?” I ask as we reach a stoplight. “I thought Arab parents spoiled their children.”

“They spoil my sisters, probably a little too much.” He pulls the insides of his empty pockets out. “They both got married last summer. You know Arab weddings. They’re very showy and lavish. And lately my dad is all about me being a ‘responsible man’ and learning to pay for things myself. I think it’s his roundabout way of forcing me out of dancing.”

“Actually, I don’t know Arab weddings,” I say as the light turns green. “I’ve never been. My mom doesn’t talk to her parents. Amo Eli rarely does. I was raised without any culture, basically.” As I say the words out loud, I’m surprised to hear the disappointment in my voice. I never really give much thought to the Arab side of my family. I’ve only met my grandparents a dozen times or so. Eli sometimes has discussions with me about Palestine, and, out of all of us, he’s the most in tune with his roots, but Mom is completely detached. Those visits with my grandparents? Chaperoned by Eli while Mom stayed home and stewed.

“Everyone should experience an Arab wedding at least once. Come with me to my cousin’s.”

We hit another stoplight, and before I can say no—my innate response when I’m invited to do something fun—I pause and think about it for a second. “When is it?”

“October 12. Thanksgiving weekend. The Sunday.”

“Oh.” I stare ahead, not really at anything. I spent last Thanksgiving at Ben’s. His dad let him carve the turkey for the first time. Mom and Eli were there too. Come to think of it, we’ve spent every Thanksgiving with Ben’s family since we moved here. This will be the first one I’m not invited to. Guess that means Mom and Eli aren’t invited anymore either. Good job, Jamie.

“The light changed,” Axel says.

“Right, sorry.” I shake my head and force an awkward smile as we continue.

“You okay?” He turns the volume down on the radio, his tone laced with concern.

“I’m good. Thanks for the invite, but I’ll probably be back together with Ben by then.”

“Right.” Axel nods.

“So tomorrow night is Wonderland,” I say, pulling into my driveway and shifting gear into park. “It’s a big day for us and this whole fake-dating thing. We need to make sure we’re on the same page. And speaking of pages…”

Before I can reach into the backseat for my notebook, Axel stops me by placing his hand on my arm.

“Hey, we’ve been at this for two weeks and have I let you down?” Axel’s eyes meet mine. I’ve never noticed how light they are. They’re definitely brown, not hazel, but they’re almost crystal clear in the sun.

“No, but,” I continue, “an entire evening at an amusement park surrounded by classmates, where we have to be on the whole time, is a completely different beast than sharing lunch and meeting up between classes.”

Axel removes his hand from my arm as one side of his mouth rises. “That won’t be a problem for me. Will it be for you?”

Holding Axel’s hand, eating meals with him, going on rides together, I can handle. But how am I supposed to get Ben to believe Axel and I are serious when anytime I see Ben and Olivia together, I crumble into little, pathetic pieces? I’ve never been very good at disguising my emotions. Good or bad.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“You spaced out again. What’s going on with you?”

“What’s our goal for tomorrow?” I say, turning to face him.

Axel shrugs. “To have fun.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Okay. I’ve decided on two dances that I’ll need you to film, but aside from that, I’m all yours. Which means, my other goal is to make Ben regret ever letting you go.”

“And how are we going to do that?” I ask, releasing a deep sigh.

“We’re going to start by not overthinking it. You just follow my lead and I, in turn, will make sure that by the end of the night, Ben will find an excuse to speak to you. Mark my words. I know guys.”

“You don’t know Ben.”

“Ben is like all the other straight, white Bens. I got this. Okay?” he asks, his eyes wide as he grins. His confidence is so annoying, but also kind of annoyingly reassuring.

“Okay.” I smile back.

We get out of my car and collect our things. On our way to the front door, I grab Axel’s wrist. “Wait.”

He turns to face me. “Now what?”

“Are we…” I stall, chewing on my lower lip. “I think we should be consistent.”

“What’s that mean?” he asks, turning his baseball hat around. My stomach flips at the sight of Axel in a backward cap. It makes his jawline more pronounced. His lips stand out. His eyes…

“Girl, did you smoke some reefer in the school bathroom today?” He laughs while pretending to smoke a joint. “Not judging.”

I slap his arm. “This is serious. If even one person knows the truth, it could blow our cover. Did you tell Eli anything?”

“He didn’t ask. I assume he thinks we’re friends.”

I suck in my lips, thinking. “He teased me about liking you on the first day of school and I shot down those accusations.”

“Well, that’s before you had a chance to get to know me,” he says, his overt confidence oozing out once again.

“Right. An easy enough response if he asks. Okay. I guess we’re doing this in front of my mom and Eli. After all, an experiment is only fully effective if we go all the way with it.” Axel opens his mouth to reply with what I know will be a smart-ass sexual innuendo. “Shut up.”

“I’m at your service,” he says, placing an arm around me.

We step through the threshold, and I shrug Axel’s arm off my shoulders. “We don’t have to overdo it.” Axel drops his backpack to the ground and slips off his shoes. He tucks them under the front bench and removes his hat.

“How do I look?” he asks, but he doesn’t really care what I think. Even I know I have zero personal style. You could place me in any decade after 1940 and I’d blend right in. Nothing flashy about me. But Axel? He defines Gen Z. Even if he were in gray dress pants and a white tee, he’d still be the poster boy for today’s youth. God, I sound like a boomer.

“You look fine. Amo? Mom?” I call out.

“Jamie?” Mom walks around the corner, in her smock and signature headband. “In between clients,” she says, an unfamiliar grin painting her face as she sizes up Axel. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Axel reaches out his hand.

“You must be Axel,” Mom says, shaking his hand. “Eli won’t stop talking about you. Says you’re a dream employee.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks. “And what does Jamie say?”

“Jamie hasn’t told me anything. But she never does. So don’t take it personally.” Mom crosses her arms over her chest as she studies Axel more closely. “Where are you from, Axel?”

“Mom,” I say, trying to stop the interrogation.

“Relax, Jamie. I’m just trying to get to know your new friend.”

“Boyfriend,” I state.

Her mouth falls open. “Oh. Well. You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I’m Canadian born,” Axel interjects. “But my parents emigrated from Lebanon. My mom is Jordanian though.”

Mom nods her head slowly. “Thought you looked Middle Eastern.”

“Jamie tells me you’re Palestinian.”

Mom clears her throat. “Parents are, yeah.”

“Then that means you are as well,” he says.

“I know what I am.” There’s an edge to Mom’s voice. No, it’s more than that. She’s being straight-up rude. My pulse races, wanting to defend Axel, but for what? Being proud of where he comes from?

Axel shifts from foot to foot, like he’s a puppy who’s been berated.

“Amo told Axel to meet him here,” I say, but what I really want to do is grab Axel’s face and kiss him right in front of my mother just to spite her.

“He’s out getting drinks for the weekend.” She studies the hair dye stains on her smock, as silence lingers in the air between the three of us. “We’re having Eric, Lucy, and Jared over tomorrow,” she blurts.

“Excuse me,” I say, trying to process this latest bomb. “You’re inviting my ex-boyfriend’s parents to our house?”

“Your uncle’s house, and they’re our friends. Just because you and Ben are no longer together doesn’t mean we have to cut off our relationship with Lucy and Jared.”

“Uh, I think it does. He dumped me. For another girl. A girl he met over the summer. So he probably cheated on me. And let’s not pretend we don’t know who’s to blame for that.”

Axel clears his throat, his eyes begging me to stop, but I am so mad. At my mom. At Ben. At my mom.

“You can’t possibly think any of this is because of me,” Mom says, all big doe eyes. Like she’s played no role in the destruction of my life.

“If I’d gotten to work at the camp, like I’d wanted to, none of this would be happening.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Jamie, but this is not my fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not even Ben’s fault. Your relationship just ran its course. It happens.”

My mouth opens to speak but no words come out. A relationship doesn’t just “run its course” when one person leaves the other for someone else. Why can’t she understand that? There’s no point in even trying with her. She doesn’t get it. She never has. Instead, I shake my head and race up the steps to my bedroom. Axel follows and I slam the door once he’s inside.

“Do you believe her? She never takes responsibility for anything. She got knocked up and it was my dad’s fault. Her crappy relationship with her parents, their fault. Dad leaving us, my fault.”

“She doesn’t think that.” Axel approaches so we’re nearly nose to nose. His close proximity stops me from pacing.

“Really? You’re taking her side?”

“I’m not taking sides. Relationships are complicated, but divorces are almost never about the kids. Your mom doesn’t blame you for your dad leaving.”

“And what about the way she treated you?” I ask. “Rude!”

“It’s fine. She has her own baggage. You don’t have to let it be yours. Do I need to remind you that we’re pretending to be together? Bringing up how much Ben hurt you isn’t going to sell her on our relationship. And,” he says, before exhaling, “it’s a good thing that the lines of communication are still open between your mom and Ben’s parents.”

“How is that a good thing?”

“You’re still in one another’s lives even if Ben is temporarily dating someone else. Their ongoing connection will benefit you. It’s an advantage you have over Olivia.”

I sigh. “You’re right. It sucks and I hate to admit it, but you’re right. How are you so zen?”

“It’s the dancing.” He grins and it has a mirroring effect on me, but I try to hide it. “Too late. I saw that smile. Come on, try it.”

“Try what?”

“Dancing.” Axel pulls out his phone and messes with it for a second before a song begins to play.

“I can’t dance.”

“I can teach you.”

“Okay,” I say, releasing a nervous laugh. “Let me make this clearer. I don’t dance.”

Axel places his phone atop a stack of books on my desk and then shoves the piles of clothes on my floor aside with his feet. “This should be enough space. Just throw your arms over my shoulders. Trust me.”

Trust him? I don’t trust anyone. “I seriously have two left feet.”

“Your feet don’t need to do anything they’re not already doing. Come on, arms over my shoulders.”

I grit my teeth and glance around my room. It’s a complete disaster and Axel didn’t even flinch. Nothing about me seems to faze him.

“Fine.” I swallow before lifting my arms to his broad shoulders. “Now what?”

Axel places his hands around my waist. “You a fan of Dua Lipa?”

“Is that some kind of trendy food?”

He laughs, just short of a snort. “No. She’s a singer. It’s her song we’re dancing to.”

“You call this dancing?” I look at him and down at our feet.

Axel eases in a bit closer and his hands move lower, guiding my hips to sway left and right. “Look at that. They move. I thought we were going to have to bust out some lube.”

I freeze in place. “Uh…what?!”

“I meant like oil, to grease your hips. Sorry.” He removes his hands, his cheeks flaming red. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“You know, for a smart girl, you’re really clueless.”

“How so?” I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Jamie, we’re in your bedroom. I’m a guy, you’re a girl, we’re standing close, music is playing, you’re coming off a fight with your mom—there’s a palpable heat,” he says, waving a hand in the space between us.

I bark out a laugh and stare up at the ceiling. Who does this kid think he is?

“There is no heat. This is…” I say, flailing my hands in front of me. “We’re not…it’s fake.”

“Yet we’re alone in your room and I’m teaching you how to dance.”

“You’re forcing me to dance. This is exactly why we need a contract.”

“Fine. Whatever. Draw up your contract. I’ll have my lawyer go over it.” He picks up his phone and turns off the music. “I’ll wait for your uncle outside.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I say as he heads to my bedroom door with his things. Regret and shame collide in my stomach. Why am I like this?

“It’s all good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He places his hand on my doorknob and for some reason I don’t want him to leave.

“Axel.”

He turns to face me.

“I’m sorry. I’m just pissed at my mom and took it out on you.” I take a few steps so we’re face-to-face again. “That was kind of fun. But don’t expect me to ever do that in public,” I say, holding my finger to his nose. He brings up a hand and grabs my finger before leaning in. Our eyes lock and I move my gaze down to the small beauty mark below his left eye.

“I’d never expect you to do anything that made you uncomfortable,” he says, releasing my finger.

I nod, and just as I’m about to ask him to stay, Amo Eli calls from below.

“We’re good, okay?” he reassures me, his eyes softening as they meet mine again.

“Okay,” I say.

As I watch Axel race down the steps, an indescribable longing pulses through my chest. Every interaction with Axel comes with a multitude of emotions that leave me feeling both breathless and at a loss for words.

And, lately, confused.