Page 8 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
South Springs High School hadn’t won a single game the season before, but we had a halfway decent team this year, which was great for me since I’d likely be at every game watching Jenna cheer.
Jenna Kamp was the kind of friend you latched onto and never let go of. She was fiercely loyal, hilarious, and driven — which was exactly the kind of person I wanted to surround myself with. She never slept on her dreams and never let me sleep on mine. All that aside, she was the only person in my life who took me for who I was — exactly who I was — and loved me completely. She knew about my parents, about my name, about my less-than-stellar car. She didn’t care that my mom smoked cigarettes in the house and so my clothes smelled like smoke or that I didn’t learn how to do anything with my hair until we were eighth graders. She loved me through the awkward stages and I knew she’d love me through much worse. She was my forever friend.
Which is why I felt supremely shitty that I was focusing on the place where my knee touched her boyfriend’s as we watched her cheer from the stands.
The bleachers were packed, so Jamie and I had wiggled our way into a small open space on the third row up. It was either touch the random freshman on the other side of me or touch Jamie, and I opted for Jamie.
Out of pure familiarity, of course.
“You surviving over there?” he asked, sipping on the red slushy he’d purchased at half-time. “I know all this organized fun can be torturous.”
“You’re totally judging me for my lack of school spirit, aren’t you?”
“Only a little bit.”
I sighed. “And all this after I promised not to judge you for your musical taste. You don’t play fair, Jamie Shaw.”
He moved his straw around, a smirk crawling up on his lips. “You have no idea.”
I narrowed my eyes, ready to ask what the hell that meant when the cheerleading squad started up a new cheer. Jamie’s eyes found Jenna’s and he zeroed in on her, sexy smile in place, their eyes staying connected the entire time as she moved. I watched her too, mesmerized by her flawlessness. Seriously, I’d yet to meet another person more beautiful than her — including Jamie. She just dazzled.
When the cheer ended, Jenna blew Jamie a kiss and he grinned as she turned back toward the field, her short skirt twirling with her.
And then, he turned back to me.
“So are you involved in any clubs or anything?”
My cheeks heated. “Okay, seriously, don’t laugh, because what I’m interested in and what Jenna is interested in are completely different.”
“I’m not comparing you.”
I chewed my cheek at that, noting the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m in Debate Club. And Interact.”
He barked out one, loud laugh. “Of course you’re in Debate Club.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
Jamie laughed harder, his hand coming down on my knee as he doubled over. I tried not to feel the burn through my jeans. “Nothing, it just makes sense. You and that mouth of yours.” He removed his hand, but now his eyes were on my mouth he’d just mentioned, and I could barely breathe.
He sniffed, looking back out at the field. “What is Interact?”
“Basically a community service club. I want to beef up the resume before senior year, you know?”
Our team scored and everyone jumped up, cheering loudly, Jamie and I a little delayed. We shared high-fives with a few people around us and watched Jenna perform a toe touch jump before settling back in on the bleachers.
“Yeah, you told me how you want to go to school in California, but what exactly do you want to go to school for?”
I stole his slushy then, pointing the straw at him before taking a sip. “You’ll have to get in line to get the answer to that question, right behind my mom.”
Jamie snatched the slushy back and immediately took a pull, which made me realize we’d shared a straw. I couldn’t figure out why that made my stomach flip. “Can you share a little insight with the back of the line, at least?”
“I just don’t know yet. I’ll probably go in undecided, take my general education requirements and figure it out from there. I love to write, but I also enjoy the objectivity of solving a math problem. I get amped up over public speaking but I also take solace in the quiet hours spent on a solo project.” I sighed. “I just think it’s stupid to narrow down my options. Is it so bad to be passionate about more than one thing?”
He tilted his head. “Not at all. I think that makes you rare.”
“Great. Rare. Like a steak. Sounds like when my mom used to tell me I was ‘special.’”
