Page 5 of Jump on Three

Well, I didn’t hate him.

He made my sister inordinately happy, and even I could see he loved her dearly. Her tender center had melted into liquid goo, and Rhys cradled those parts carefully. The thing that truly sent him over the edge for me was he didn’t try to take Delilah from me. Instead, he’d wormed his way into my life too, accepting our pod was a package deal.

Hence, the knitting lessons I had not agreed to but had been giving him the last couple months. He was terrible at it and drove me crazy, but he was trying, and I couldn’t fault him for that.

So, he was okay. Delilah made sure we still had sister time, and she forced him to be quiet during movies. We both loved Delilah and if he kept up his adoration of her, I would one day, probably, begrudgingly, love Rhys too.

Without warning, the seat on my other side was yanked out, and the scent of soapy pine hit me before the warmth of Ivan’s shoulder grazed mine. He sat beside me often but rarely touched me. If he did, it was so brief it didn’t register.

This morning, his shoulder lingered in my space. My awareness of him was heightened as well. When I slid my eyes to the side, I found his already sweeping over my face.

Oh dear.

I must have been very strange at the pool. The last thing I said to him was I wanted to fly. That wasn’t normal. I shouldn’t have said that.

It wasn’t true either. Flying wasn’t on my bucket list. Airplane rides were nails on a chalkboard. If I sprouted wings, I’d demand a refund.

I wrapped my hands around my hot mug, shifting so I was no longer touching Ivan. After a moment, he dug into his food, and I slipped my headphones on while I picked at my scone.

It was absolutely loaded with chocolate chips, but I found a few plain parts that weren’t objectionable. Those I ate. The rest, I avoided.

It wasn’t so bad, listening to music, sipping tea, picking at a scone.

I still wanted my cranberry orange. The one Ryan had stolen.

I wouldn’t forget his name now. Ryan, my enemy.

On my way to German class, I turned my head, surprised to find Ivan there, his long legs falling into step with my much, much shorter ones.

Without stopping my music, I slid my headphones off my ears. “Yes?”

His mouth opened then closed. He dipped his head, coming close to me. “Are you listening to Porter Robinson?”

“Yes.” I stopped walking. My music had been awfully loud, but I found it quite surprising he’d heard it well enough to know the artist. “You recognized the music coming from my headphones?”

He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets. “Of course. EDM was the soundtrack of my childhood.”

That was an unusual thing to say. I imagined a baby being played electronic dance music instead of a lullaby. What a silly thought.

I gripped the straps of my backpack. “I have to get to German.”

He nodded. “I’m trying out for the swim team today.”

“Okay.”

“I want to know what you think. Do you believe I have a chance?”

I frowned at him. Did he think I watched him while he swam in the mornings? I didn’t. Of course, I didn’t. But it wouldn’t be the first time someone had accused me of watching them.

Creepelyn.

“I have no idea, and as I’m not part of the judging panel, I can’t say what they’re looking for.”

“You have no opinion?” he pressed.

“I truly don’t.” I glanced over my shoulder. “I have German. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m in no hurry. I’ll walk with you.”

---