Page 37 of Love Medley
With a pang, I bet his brother dating Sam is even more painful than he’s let on. From what little I know of Jake, he seems to hold a lot of emotion inside. I’m surprised by how much I want to ease that burden.
“I know Sterling didn’t know you dated Sam before he asked her out, but does he know now?” I ask tentatively.
“That’s a good question,” Jake winces, another crack in his facade showing. “I actually don’t know. I guess I just assumed that Sam told him.”
Ah. I was right. Poor Jake is hurting bad. “But wouldn’t he have called you or texted you? Something?”
“We don’t really talk,” Jake reminds me. “So I wouldn’t expect that from him, no.”
“Well, when is the next time you see him?”
Jake hesitates for a beat, and I realize maybe this question is a bit more loaded than I intended. “Family dinners at my parents’ house were when I typically saw Sterling, but I haven’t seen anyone in my family for a while.”
“Why? Because of the whole dropping out of med school thing?”
Jake nods. “Yeah, I haven’t talked to either Sterling or my dad since I told my family in February.”
February?! And his family is local. My heart absolutely shatters for Jake. What is wrong with his family? Jake deserves better.
“But…that makes no sense! It’s not like you aren’t doing anything with your life. You just did something different!” But even as I’m speaking, I realize that I’m not that surprised. Because haven’t I’ve always done what my parents wanted? To avoid this very reaction? After having a front row seat to their disappointment in Peter, I’ve had no desire to experience it myself.
But Jake—he forged ahead, staying true to himself, no matter the cost. That took guts I don’t have.
Jake just shrugs. “It is what it is. Sorry, I think I got us off track.” He clears his throat, switching topics again. “I’m assuming you were born in America, but maybe that’s not a fair assumption.”
I appreciate the way Jake brings the subject up, and he actually has a legitimate reason for asking. A lot of people ask me if I was born here, and I’ve gotten so sick of the question that I purposely misinterpret the question and tell them no, I wasn’t born in Blackwell, I was born in Texas. This way they're forced to admit they actually meant to ask if I was born in America. The other questionI love (can you hear the sarcasm?) is “What are you?” How is that an acceptable question?
I’m a human being, you know.
Jake grimaces. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. That was rude.”
I shake my head, rushing to reassure him. “No, the opposite. Not only do you need to know this info, but that’s the most polite way I have ever heard anyone bring it up. You know, Weston called me a ‘twinkie’ on a regular basis.” Oh crap, that just slipped out.
Jake immediately rears back. “What the fuck? Tell me there’s some kind of inside joke I’m not privy to.”
I blink. “Maybe Weston thought it was funny,” I say slowly, feeling out the words. “But I’m realizing that it bothered me more than I was willing to admit at the time. I’m third-generation Chinese, so I’m fully Americanized. My parents understand Mandarin but don’t speak the language, and I only understand a couple of words. It’s definitely something I’ve struggled with—straddling the line between what I look like and how I feel inside. Weston’s pointing out that I was Asian on the outside but white on the inside wasn't a joke to me…it’s my reality.”
Jake’s jaw clenches. “You really don’t need to give me any more reasons to go along with this fake date. At this point, I’d do it just to see that look of disbelief on Weston’s face again. I’m not a violent guy; I’ve never hit anyone in my life. But Weston is tempting fate—he may just be my first.”
“He…seriously won’t know what hit him, pun totally intended!” I gasp.
The joke isn’t that funny, but the laughter still just erupts from me, overtaking me, my body shaking with so much mirth it can’t be contained.
Jake follows with his own unrestrained laughter. When both of us trickle to a stop, we just look at each other again and burst out laughing again. I’m sure everyone in the coffee shop thinks there’s something seriously wrong with us, but for the first time in ages, I couldn't care less about what anyone else thinks.
Weston would have hustled me out of the coffee shop in a fury.
“Okay, okay,” I say, attempting to calm down. “I’m going to have a stroke if I laugh any more. But I’d love to see Weston get a taste of his own medicine.”
Jake looks amused. “You’re really on a roll with these puns.”
“Stop, stop,” I gasp, laughter overtaking me again. After a beat, I take a deep breath, but I'm grinning like an idiot the entire time. “But that’s for Tuesday. Tomorrow, we have shifts that overlap with Sam. Are you okay with some smouldering glances near where she works? Maybe some sweet nothings whispered in your ear?”
Jake grins back. “Sounds good. Get your game face on.”
“Definitely.” For some reason, even though I’ve relatively calmed down, my heart races when I think about flirting with Jake tomorrow.
I’m seriously looking forward to it. I just know Sam will want Jake back as soon as she sees him with another woman.
