Page 98 of The Fangirl Project
“That’s why you were so upset at the party, why you didn’t want to talk to me, after. That’s…But—even before that, you weren’t talking to me. You only saw me—” To watchOWAR.When it involved hanging out with Max.
WasIthe third wheel? Or was Jake, in Max’s eyes?
I shake my head. “Jake, I wish you’d justtalkedto me. We could’ve avoided this—this whole…” I wave my hand around in a vague, all-encompassing gesture, and a smile quirks the corner of his mouth up on one side.
It drops away again when he says, “I couldn’t, though. Because then it would’ve…beenA Thing.I’d have been, you know,coming out,and you’re my best friend, so that would’ve felt…I don’t know, final? Like a rubber stamp on it, or something? And I didn’t even know for surewhatI was coming out as. Bi? Pan? Gay? I didn’t…want to choose the wrong thing, and then it not feel right.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, dragging one hand through hishair and gesturing agitatedly with the other. “It just felt likepressureto tell you—or any of the guys from soccer or school, or even Thomas and Ginny. I actually ended up talking to Anissa about it all. She’s been a really great sounding board and it just felt sort of low stakes, because we didn’t know each other all that well in the first place—and…and all I’ve wanted to do was talk to you, Cer, but I didn’t know how.”
He looks so lost, sotiredright then, that I fling myself at him, giving him the big, warm hug he usually doles out so freely. He grabs me back, tight, and I hear him sniffle.
“Oh, Jake. Yougumball.”
“You…what?”
I laugh, making a mental note to tell Evie how annoyingly catchy that word is. “Long story,” I say. “Are we friends again, though?”
His face is squashed next to mine. “Yeah. Best friends, Cer. Until the end.”
“Until the end,” I repeat, and it mends some of the cracks in my heart.
33
Jake and I hang outsidefor a little while longer, taking refuge from the rain underneath an awning. We talk about how this whole realization left Jake feeling confused and overwhelmed the past few months, and I joke that he should’ve watchedHeartstopperwith me; he might relate to Nick Nelson. But mostly we catch up on things we’ve missed in each other’s lives—things I thought we’d talked about on Discord, but apparently not.
We stand shoulder to shoulder looking out at the rain, talking about anything and everything, and it feels like I’ve finally got my best friend back.
He has a great laugh at my expense about the revelation that I had a crush on him, but I can’t stay too mad at him. It feels…distant,somehow, now. I attached so many of my feelings to my chats with @runicrascal that the screen name makes it unnervingly easy to separate those feelings fromJake.
Although that may also be helped by the mind-blowing kiss I shared with Max…
“So wait, wait,” Jake says, gasping for breath, hugging a stitch in his side, undeterred by the way I’m currently glowering at him. “You got intoOWARand the conventions and stuffjustto impressme?”
“So we could spend time together!”
“So I’dfall for you.”
“I swear to God, Jake—”
He snorts, but tips his head back against the brick wall behind us and sighs. “So…you and Max, then?”
“I…I don’t know.” I squirm, twisting to face him better. “I don’t want to get in the way of—”
“Of what—mymassive unrequited crush on my friend?” He raises his eyebrows, and his smile is self-deprecating. “I don’t think Max is even a blip on the Kinsey scale. And if he is, I’m not histype.”
“The what scale?”
“Ah, my heteronormative friend, so much still to learn.” He nudges me with his shoulder, though, smiling, and tells me, “I only just found out about it the other week, don’t worry. Anyway,point is, he’s definitely not into me. I’ve been spending months trying to untangle whether I’m gay or bi or what,andget over a crush so it doesn’t ruin my friendship—”
“Mood.”
“So you’re not getting in the way. I mean, it’s weird, yeah, and I don’t have to feelgoodabout it, but…you’re my friends. I care about both of you.Idon’t want to get in the way, either.”
I groan, leaning to rest my head on his shoulder. “Is thisgrowing up, Jake? Being all messy and mature? I don’t like it, take itback.”
He laughs, shifting to sling an arm around my shoulders and tuck me into his side in a way that saystell me about it.
And I take a deep breath and tell him, “Love ya, Jake.”
“Love ya, too, Cer,” he says softly, sincerely, and it’s not at all like how I pictured it being.
