Page 81 of The Second Kiss
"You don't need to–" Dad starts.
Mom cuts him off, matching Laini's mock sweetness, “Are you sure? I'm sure we could find something for you to wear. Jess' pants would only be a little tight.” Mom might be the only person at the table who's on my side.
A dark look for Mom shows that Laini didn't miss the jab. “I actually feel a headache coming on anyway. I've been putting in a lot of extra hours at work." She sighs dramatically. “Jacob, could you get my purse for me? And my shoes, I left them by the door.”
“I’m happy to wrap up the salmon for you to take.” Dad reaches for her plate. “And some ribs for Jacob too.”
“That won’t be necessary. The salmon will be plenty for both of us.” Laini stretches her legs out for Jacob to help her with her shoes. He kneels in front of the chair and slides the sandals on her delicate feet as if she were Cinderella instead of both stepsisters and the wicked stepmother rolled into one.
I haven’t had the chance to move from my place of dishonor, the place where I spilled barbecue-flavored liquid animal fat on the queen. I’m standing directly in front of them when Laini finally rises from her seat. She extends her hand and for a second I think she expects me to kiss it and grovel before her. Instead, she presses my hand like we were affectionate rivals in some Regency romance. “It was so nice to meet you Jessica. Please, don’t worry about the pants, accidents happen.”
Jacob gives me a kind of ‘I’m-embarrassed-for-you’ helpless look as he passes, but he doesn’t say anything. Dad wraps up the salmon. Mom ignores Laini’s request and wraps up a plate of ribs for Jacob. Everyone follows them out to the car to say good-bye except for me.
Just when I think I'm safe—just as my family comes back in and sits down to resume what’s salvageable from dinner—Mom notices Laini’s crystal bowl full of salad. She hands it to me. “Jess, run out and see if you can catch them.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I know it’s not worth arguing about. Besides, the last thing I want is for Jacob to have an excuse to bring Laini back in my house, even if it’s just to retrieve her bowl.
I make it to the steps before Jacob intercepts me. “Laini forgot–” I thrust the bowl at him. “Thanks,” he takes it, but doesn’t move. “Are you okay?” he says quietly.
“Fine,” I answer.
“It was just an accident,” Jacob is trying to be comforting, but I hear the shades of doubt in his voice when he says 'accident.'
“I know. It was my accident.” I turn to go back in the house.
He puts his hand on my arm. I stop. “I still owe you an oil change. I can come by this week and take care of it.”
“Whatever.” I can’t even pretend to care. I’m tired and humiliated and somehow it feels like it's all his fault.
"Whatever?" He sounds surprised. Is he really that oblivious?
I raise my eyes to meet his, hoping I'm conveying a look of utter disinterest. “Whatever you want to do. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“Jess, I’m–” An impatient beep from Laini’s horn cuts him off. “Sorry. I have to go.” I can’t tell if he meant for his ‘sorry’ to be attached to his ‘Jess, I’m,’ or not. “Tell your parents–”
But I don’t hear what he wants me to tell my parents, because Laini leans out the window and says, “Jake,” like she’s calling a disobedient puppy in training.
"Gotta go." He hurries down the stairs and climbs in her immaculate BMW. His car must not be good enough for her either.
As they drive away my mom joins me on the front step. She shakes her head. "Guys can be such idiots."
I couldn't agree with her more.
forty
Owing Nothing
Three days after our dinner disaster with Laini, Jacob is waiting for me when I get home. I catch my breath.
Why is he here?
“Ready for that oil change?” He already has the hood up on The Nag.
“Sure,” I try to stay nonchalant as I cross the yard to him.
He tilts his head sideways, appraising me as I get closer. I can only imagine he’s cataloging the stark differences between me and Laini. Or maybe he never thought of me that way anyway. He asks, “What are you doing home so late?”
“I had to fill in for another instructor.”
