Page 24 of You Started It

“Sounds good.”

Despite the caf being almost empty, Axel leans over the table and places a kiss on my cheek. His warm lips press against my skin and, reflexively, I place a hand over my face.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Was that not okay?”

I remove my hand and think on his question before answering. I wasn’t expecting that. I also wasn’t expecting it to make me feel so…safe? Cared for? Valued. Instead of unleashing my currentRussian doll of emotions onto Axel, I lean over and kiss him on his cheek.

“It’s fine.”

He looks down, burying a smile. I think I just made him blush. Wasn’t sure that was possible, considering how cocky he is. Maybe there’s more to Axel than I initially thought. He’s nothing like Ben and, I don’t know, that doesn’t seem to be such a terrible thing.

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 andlavish. 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, Idon’tknow 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 beonthe 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?”

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