Page 52 of The Love Rematch
“And a Star Wars T-shirt.”
“Ah-ha! Which one?”
“My vintage 1977 logo shirt.”
“The one with the rainbow stripes and the jet?”
He can’t believe she still remembers. “That’s the one.”
“Soft.”
“It is.”
“And where are you sitting?”
“On the window seat in my room.”
“Which has a view of…”
“Your room.”
She snorts. “I thought you were going to say the ocean or something.”
“Not nearly as enticing.”
He’s riding a thin line. He knows it, but he can’t help it. With Emily, he always liked to live a bit dangerously.
To his surprise, Emily doesn’t back off. She fights fire with fire. “You have always had a thing for staring at my bedroom window.”
“That’s because you used to stare back.”
Click.
For a second he thinks she hung up, but then he hears thecreakof a door and he realizes she put the phone down on the counter. A few seconds later, a shadow moves across her curtain. It pulls back, and there she is. It’s déjà vu seeing her there in those pink pajamas with her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders and no makeup. She’s just Emily, the girl he remembers.
Seven years ago, he would have been on the ground beneath her window. She would have slid it open and giggled under her breath from the nerves while he pulled himself inside. They would have fallen onto the bed in a mess of lips and limbs, knocking a pile of books off her nightstand in their haste before shushing each other to be quiet. It was all laughs and sighs and smiles. He wonders if the bottom button on that shirt is still missing or if she sewed it back on. The plastic was so slippery, and his hands were so shaky, that he finally ripped the stupid thing apart to get to her skin.
Jake flicks on the light in his room.
Emily’s searching gaze immediately jumps to the spot.
They stare at each other, no telling for how long. Despite the distance, the tension is thick, at least on his end. Jake’s heart pounds. His jaw clenches. His chest feels tight, as if he’s running a marathon and can’t catch a breath. Does she feel it too? This pressure? This connection?
He’ll never know.
Emily turns away from the window and pulls her curtain closed. The light in her room turns off and her outline dissolves into shadows. The phone line goes dead. Fifteen minutes must have passed. His time is up.
Was she on her way back to the bathroom to keep talking, or was she going to hang up on him anyway?
The question haunts him into the night. But Jake does have clarity on one thing.
He let Sam scare him away once before.
He’s not going to do it again.
Jake pulls up the conversation with Sam and finally replies. It’s what he should have said seven years ago, the first time she spoke in Emily’s stead.
It’s her decision to make.
