Page 45 of Pieces Of You

“Uh-huh.” The TV’s on mute, and I’m mid-match, but all I’m doing is smashing buttons. I could’ve died twenty times by now, and I wouldn’t have noticed because I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. She’s wearing a t-shirt way too big for her, and it makes me question where she got it. I don’t recall ever seeing Dean wearing it, but it’s not like I would’ve paid attention. It bothers me. And I really shouldn’t be feeling any type of way about her wearing some other guy’s clothes. But… I’m an only child, and I’m not good at sharing. Not that Jamie’s mine, but… I don’t know.

To be completely honest, I’m out of my element here. Sure, I’m used to having girls in my room, in my bed, but there was always a game plan. There’s a middle, a beginning, and an end, but with Jamie—I have no idea what to expect, and maybe that’s what draws me to her. What excites me about the prospect of possibly having her.

“Holden?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “What was it like?”

“It was…” I take a moment to think about it. “Honestly, it was the best. When I was living there, I hated it. I used to promise Mia that I’d get us out of that shithole as soon as I could, but now that I look back on it, I wish I could go back there. Not so much to that place specifically, but to that time and place, you know?” I pause a moment, reliving the best memories of my life. “Like, we lived on hundreds and hundreds of acres, and we’d spend all day just playing, not a single care in the world. There was no pressure to be or do anything but be kids, and that—that’s what I miss the most. And my dad, obviously.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“My dad?” I ask, and she nods, eyes still focused on the task in front of her. “Every day.”

“And Mia?”

“I try. Multiple times a day,” I say through a sigh. “But she’s not really in the headspace to be talking to my dumb ass.”

Jamie glances up, then right back down, placing an edge piece in a separate pile. Her lips part and snaps shut a second later, and I can tell she’s holding back. “What’s on your mind, Mildred?”

Shaking her head, she looks up, stares right into my eyes for one second.Two.It’s barely a whisper when she says, “I’d have given anything to have a friend like you growing up.”

And maybe it’s that nanosecond of a high from her maybe-compliment that has me admitting, “You kind of smell like home to me.”Yep. That came out just as creepy out loud as it did in my head.

She snorts with her abrupt laugh. “You know what I smell like?”

I sit up straighter. “Have you forgotten that time when you sat in my car and forced me tosniffyou?”

After a groan, she mumbles, “I purposely blocked it out of my mind. Thanks for the reminder.”

“What the hell was that about, anyway?”

Jamie goes back to the puzzle, flicking pieces around with her index finger. “You ever have that kid in elementary school who was always dirty and stinky and—”

“I was home-schooled, so no,” I cut in.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows knit, inspecting a single puzzle piece laid flat on her palm. “Well, that was me. I was kind of neglected as a kid and constantly teased or talked about, so I guess being clean or whatever—it’s my way of overcoming some fucked-up psychological childhood trauma.” She says all this without ever looking up, without taking a breath, and I have no idea if she realizes what all she’s just revealed. I try to picture a younger version of Jamie precisely the way she described, and for the life of me, I can’t fucking do it.

For me—being dirty and smelly was part of growing up the way I did. All that outdoor play meant being coated in mud and sweat, but those things came from laughter and joy and… I can’t even process being raised any other way. And maybe that’s on me. Maybe I’ve lived in a bubble my entire life, or maybe I’m just way too self-absorbed that I hadn’t realized until right at this moment that the world is as messed up as it is.

I get some things are inevitable and out of our control. Like death, for example. But my greatest fear growing up was simply that—growing up.

It’sstillmy biggest fear.

I don’t know what to say or how to react, and so I do the worst thing possible: I do nothing at all.

Seconds pass, or it could be minutes, and then Jamie exhales, the single sound filling the room. Her eyes are already mid-roll when she glances up, letting out a groan. “Right,” I say, forcing myself to look away. “Don’t look at you like I pity you.”

“No. That’s not it.” She shakes her head. “It’s just… I tell you not to feel sorry for me, but then I give you the fuel to add to the fire. And now you have no choice but to carry the weight of my burdens, and it’s not fair to you.”

I heave out a sigh, my eyes unintentionally trailing back to hers like they always seem to do. “It’s not really fair to you, either, Jamie.”

Her eyes stay on mine for a long moment, and then she forces an exhale, her eyebrows dipping. “It kind of bugs me that you’re not at all what I expected.”

Cracking a smile, I say, “That’s because you judged me way too early.”

“I think it was all that big dick energy you harvest.” Her nose scrunches in feigned disgust, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You sure talk a lot about my dick for a girl who’s never experienced it.” I stare at her, one eyebrow cocked.

It’s a challenge.

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