Page 50 of Deep In Love
Jett waves a hand over my mug, breaking my trance.
“You’ve gotta spill your beans,” he says.
“It’s not that simple.”
“You like a girl. You tell the girl. Easy peasy.” Jett’s smile is bright and toothy, and I wish I could live in his world where it’s black and white.
But I’m in the real world, where actions have consequences, and telling Charlie how I feel has real repercussions. What if she rejects me? How do we navigate the remainder of the voyage if she’s uncomfortable? How do I look at her for the next three years of our PhD program and not relive the heartbreak?
It’s never as easy as it seems, and Charlie is a complex being built like a Jenga tower. With a gentle touch, she’s strong enough to stand, but with a heavy hand or poor decision, she’ll crumble.
I’ve studied her—documented every new discovery until I became an expert.
“I won’t survive the rejection,” I admit, my breakfast souring in my stomach.
“Who says she’ll reject you?”
Occam’s razor states when considering multiple explanations for an event, it’s usually the simplest one that’s most likely to be true. Charlie will reject me. It’s the simplest explanation for what will happen if I tell her. It uses the fewest assumptions, and by the law of parsimony, it’s the obvious choice.
My phone rings before I can put together a logical explanation, and my abuela’s photo fills the screen.
“My abuela is calling,” I say, hoping he takes the hint and leaves.
Instead, he snatches the phone and answers the call, adjusting his beanie and wiping his face as the call connects.
“Hi, Mateo’s abuela,” he yells, waving enthusiastically at the camera. “I’m Jett.”
“Uh…Hello. Have you seen my grandson?” she asks, and I slide my head into the frame. “Did you finish the audiobook?”
Her grin is enormous, bordering on insane, and my hunch is confirmed. She picked the bookknowingI would hate it, and now she wants me to admit it.
“Not yet. It’s been busy getting settled.”
And I never want to listen to another minute ever again.
“What audiobook?” Jett asks. “Maybe I’d like it.”
“Probably not,” I grumble.
I don’t need Elora’s poor choices to add to the storm of thoughts whirling in my brain. My own thoughts are company enough.
“It’s a historical romance,” my abuela explains, “with rogue pirates, high stakes, and a main character exploring the high seas.”
“She’s much more focused on exploring what’s happening beneath Dominic’s britches.”
“She’s doing that, too.” My abuela winks, and a laugh bubbles from Jett’s chest.
“Righteous! Send me the link,” he says, looking in my direction.
My mind flies to Amy’s text—her comment about Charlie’s exploration beneath my waistband—and discomfort and confusion settles beneath my diaphragm.
Was it a silly joke, or was there merit behind the comment? Has she thought about me in a not-so-friendly way? Did I misinterpret her response? Was the flush from discomfort rather than schoolgirl embarrassment?
This is the problem and why I haven’t told Charlie how I feel.
I descend into a spiral of questions and concerns until I’ve convinced myself it’s easier to keep my thoughts to myself and flirt in hopes she’ll pick up on the cues and drop some of her own.
Only she hasn’t flirted back, nor has she said anything that suggests my advances would be welcome.
