Page 28 of You Started It

“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.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Saturday, and it’s Seniors’ Night at Wonderland. I tossed and turned last night in bed, unable to get any sleep. My mind raced with thoughts of Ben and Olivia and what happened between them over the summer, imagining the moment when Ben decided he’d stopped loving me and wanted to be with her. Then my disagreement with Mom played out over and over in my head, making me angrier each time. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, there’s the weird physical reactions I’ve been experiencing around Axel.

His lips are curves and peaks like a roller coaster. I bet his kisses feel like one too.

Stop it!

Axel is basically everything I’m not. He’s also kind of annoying. But I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that sometimes I like spending time with him. What’s even more worrisome is that I occasionally miss Axel when he’s not around, and even find myself looking for excuses to text him.

What Axel is is a distraction, and that’s not always a bad thing. When I’m around him I’m less sad about Ben. He talked me off the ledge yesterday with Mom. And, most important of all, he’s helping me get Ben back. Even if he always manages to change the subject when I bring up a contract. Which is why I’ve spent all morning in my room typing one up. I’m going to bring it with meto Wonderland and have him sign it tonight. On our first official fake-date.

Working on the contract has also been a good way to avoid my mother. We haven’t spoken since yesterday’s tiff, but Saturdays are her busiest days, which means it’s probably safe for me to come out of my room and make lunch.

I bring my laptop with me, figuring I can finalize the details of the contract while enjoying my meal. Eli’s at work and the house is mostly quiet, except for the music from Mom’s salon thumping through the floor.

Phil Collins really loves a dramatic musical transition.

Eli’s kitchen is pretty small, but quaint. There’s a round table by the sliding glass door that leads to his deck and backyard. A bunch of fresh groceries are laid out on the small island in preparation for tonight’s dinner with the Camerons. It almost looks as if the kitchen has been staged for a photoshoot or something, with the bright produce contrasting against the black granite counters. Eli has an eye for design, and his dark wood cabinets and black-and-white tiled floors give the space sort of a homey yet stylish feel.

The home I grew up in was a bungalow. We had a big piece of land, since the farther north you go, the less expensive housing is. The layout was pretty spaced out, so when Mom and Dad fought, I’d just go to my room at the other end of the house and hide. Made their shouts more of a whisper. But they still felt like a sharp stab to my heart.

At first, they used to fight about little things, like dividing up tasks and blaming each other for not doing their share. But then the subject matter got more serious. Dad felt stifled. Mom felt underappreciated. Dad said Mom didn’t acknowledge how hard it was for him to work a corporate job when his heart wasn’t in it. Mom said he refused to grow up and accept his responsibilities.

As I got older, I started to see that the reasons for their arguments ran deeper. Dad felt trapped by fatherhood. Mom felt like I didn’t love her enough. Dad was unhappy, and Mom regretted ever marrying Dad and having me.

“Jamie?” Mom’s voice sounds from the kitchen entry. I grip my butter knife while spreading Nutella on my bread. “Is that what you’re having for lunch? Not very healthy.”

I exhale and use my knife to collect more Nutella to spread on a second slice before slapping the pieces together. I turn and lick my finger. “If you don’t want me to eat Nutella, then don’t buy it.”

“I don’t buy it. Eli does.” She enters the kitchen and cleans up after me while I bring my sandwich to the table.

“Don’t you have clients?” I ask, while waking my laptop up. She pours a glass of water and places it next to me.

“At least stay hydrated. And no, I’m done for the day. Took the afternoon off to prep dinner. I’m making steak Neptune and need time to get it ready.”

“What’s the special occasion?” Their son finally getting rid of that annoying girlfriend? I bite into my sandwich in an effort to keep my angry words at bay.

“Eli wants to put his new dining table to use,” she says while washing her hands.

---