The Ugly Stepsister Strikes Back (12 page)

I recalled our conversation at my house. "Yale and then Harvard Law School, right?"

He looked surprised. "Right. But I'm not interested."

"Then where do you want to go?"

"Not Yale or Harvard. I'm supposed to be a lawyer, a partner in my dad's firm by the time I'm thirty. He's planned out my whole life for me and I don't want it."

I knew exactly how that felt. "So, why don't you tell him?"

He raised a single eyebrow. "Have you told your parents about your manga?"

What could I say? Nothing. He was right. So I sat there in silence.

"Didn't think so."

I sighed and wrapped my arms around my legs, pulling them closer to my chest. "Why can't we just tell them?"

"I don't think we're the first teenagers to ask that."

He smiled, I smiled. We were having another actual moment. It gave me goosebumps, sending tingly shivers up and down my whole body. I rubbed my hands over my arms, hoping he didn't notice my trembling.

Of course, he did. "Hey, are you cold?"

"I'm fine," I started to say, but before I could finish my sentence, he was shrugging off his letterman's jacket and handing it to me. I held it in my hands for a moment, thinking I should return it to him and not be this pathetic. It felt heavy, and the leather sleeves felt smooth against my fingers.

I might have been stupid whenever I got around Jake, but not even I was
that
stupid.

So instead I said, "Thanks," and put the jacket on. If I felt a little foolish at first, now I was chastising myself for not thinking to play the cold card before if this would have been the result. It was too big for me; the sleeves covered up my hands. I'd never worn something that made me feel small. The jacket smelled just like him, and his body warmth still lingered inside. It was like hugging him again. I pulled the coat closed and snuggled into it.

Maybe John Hughes wasn't a total liar.

"Do you think your parents wouldn't like your art?"

I held in a very unladylike snort. "I doubt they would think it was art."

"So you don't even give them a chance to judge for themselves?"

I knew he meant well, but he didn't know what he was talking about. They had been my parents for the last eighteen years, and I had a pretty good idea of what their reactions would be. "They would think it was garbage."

"You don't know that. They might even like it. I think you're afraid of rejection. So you reject everybody else first."

I so did
not
do that. "Thanks for the psychoanalysis, Dr. Phil," I retorted. I looked away from him, willing myself not to cry. My throat felt tight, and an uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to argue with him, tell him he was wrong. But part of me knew that he was right. Otherwise, I wouldn't have felt the way I was feeling. It was probably some psychological thing because my mom had left me, but in my heart I believed that everyone was out to get me, screw me over and then leave me. I stayed mostly detached from everything and practically everyone. Like Jake said, I rejected them before they could reject me.

But sitting there on the floor with him, I realized how badly I needed that connection. How much I wanted it. I wanted to matter to someone like him.

I didn't know if I could handle Jake's rejection.

And I didn't want to dwell on it. I ordered myself to calm down and gave him a tight smile. The very last thing I needed to do was cry in front of him. "My turn. Truth or dare."

"I'll take a truth, too."

Maybe it was because I already felt so awkward and figured things couldn't get much worse, maybe I was part masochist, maybe I wanted to unsettle him for a minute. "Are you sad that you and Ella broke up?"

He took in a deep breath, brow furrowed, as if I'd confused or surprised him. "There's not really a good answer to that question."

"I didn't ask for a good answer. I asked for the truth."

Jake let that deep breath back out. "You never give a guy a break, do you? Fine, truth. It will make me sound like a jerk, but not really."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he held his hand up. "Let me explain. We never really clicked, you know? We hardly spent any time together. I mean, it was cool to date the hottest girl in school. And my parents loved her. My dad keeps talking about what an 'asset' she is. Like he forgets that I'm only eighteen." He fixed me with his disconcerting gaze. "And if I'm being really honest, I'm glad she broke up with me."

"Oh," was my eloquent response. Jake didn't love Ella. He didn't miss her. He was glad they broke up. GLAD. My heart skipped several beats.

He thumped his fingers against his leg, looking around the room before his eyes settled back on me. "So, does Ella ever say anything about me?"

Fury and indignation flared up inside of me. "I am not talking about my stepsister with you."

"No, I just, uh, is she okay?"

He was concerned about her. He just told me that he hadn't really ever even liked her, and now he was worried about her feelings. I was both touched by his empathy and sort of repulsed by the reminder that he had dated Ella. "She's fine. And you?"

"What? I'm cool. All good."

I needed the ability to sort through and understand my emotions faster. I went from raging mad to helplessly in love to totally confused to completely embarrassed in the range of a few seconds when I was with him. I'd never really had this happen before and I wasn't sure how to deal and make sense of the insanity.

I realized that he was looking at me. And not just in the way he normally looked at me, but like he was really seeing me for the first time. It kind of took my breath away.

"You're easy to talk to, you know that?"

My heart started beating fast and his expression made my stomach do funny things. "Aren't most people?"

One corner of his mouth tugged up. "No. Just you."

I knew that he was going to kiss me. I was as sure of it as I was of my own name, which was…um…was…okay, so I couldn't remember my own name when he looked at me that way. My heart pounded furiously.

I don't know how I knew he was going to kiss me, having never actually been kissed before. Some female instinct, I guessed. But I knew it.

"Truth or dare, Mattie?" His voice was soft, and unbelievably appealing.

I looked into his dark eyes, and forced myself to speak. I understood what he was asking me. And I only had one answer for him. It came out as a whisper.

"Dare."

Jake moved closer to me and leaned in so slowly that it seemed like all time had stopped just for that moment. He lifted one hand to the side of my face, and my skin burned so hotly that I briefly wondered whether there would be a permanent imprint of his hand on my cheek.

He edged even closer.

I closed my eyes.

Chapter 12

Nothing happened.

I think it almost did. I had my eyes closed, so I didn't see anything, and I was breathing hard and that sort of blocked out all the sound, but everything else intensified. I could sense his lips hovering over mine, feel his warm breath against my face, the heat from his body encircling me, his thumb lightly rubbing my cheek.

And that was when Ella unlocked the recording studio door.

"Oh!" she said. I pulled back so fast I worried I might get whiplash. "Oh!" she said again, looking totally confused and embarrassed. "I came to let you out."

"Thanks," Jake said smoothly, getting to his feet. I stood up too, worried about my ability to stay upright. I leaned against the counter behind me for stability. I tried to catch my breath, and gulped several times just to get enough fresh air. I noticed my hands were shaking, and so I hid them inside the sleeves of Jake's jacket.

"The staff in the front office said we have to go. We were supposed to be done half an hour ago," Ella explained. "Maybe we can do it tomorrow morning before school?"

"Sure," Jake replied. He didn't seem weird or awkward or anything. I knew I'd never be able to contribute to this conversation because all I kept thinking was
oh my Buddha, Jake Kingston almost kissed me! Kissed me!

"I'll see you guys tomorrow then," Jake said as he picked his backpack up off the floor, slinging it over one shoulder.

Ella said goodbye. I stood there like a French mime.

"Hey, before I forget, Mercedes gave this to me." Jake opened his bag and pulled out my sketchbook.

My freaking sketchbook.

"I thought you'd probably like to have it back."

The earlier panic attack had absolutely nothing on the full-fledged hysteria I now felt. My head started to spin and I saw little stars in my peripheral vision. I couldn't catch my breath.

My sketchbook full of Jake Kingston pictures. Jake had my sketchbook! I had never felt so completely humiliated and mortified in my entire life.

He was holding it out to me and I finally realized how much time had passed and that I was making everything worse, so I took it from him. I held it against my chest, wrapping my arms around it, using it like a shield. As if it could protect me from what had just happened.

Maybe he hadn't looked inside, I thought frantically. Maybe he recognized it from our poker game and was just being kind and wanted to return it to me.

"Your pictures are really good. I still think you should show them to your parents."

Okay, so he had possibly already looked at the pictures. But maybe he wouldn't say anything to me even if he had looked inside. Maybe we could just go on like none of this had happened and pretend like I wasn't a completely psycho stalker. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

All the maybes went poof when he said, "I don't think you got my nose right, though." He was teasing me. I could hear it in his voice. I closed my eyes the way I did when I was a kid and I imagined that if I couldn't see anyone else, they couldn't see me either. I wanted to disappear.

Utter, total, shattering humiliation.

My stomach churned with anxiety. I could only imagine what he thought of me. Too many horrifying scenarios ran through my mind. He just stood there, like he expected me to say something. Maybe he wanted me to explain myself. But in what reality could I say, "The thing is, Jake, that I'm in love with you and have been since we were nine years old and all this time I've spent with you has made me fall even more madly in love with you and so I draw lots of pictures of you because you're beautiful and fun to draw and now I hope you'll be cool about all this and that I didn't scare you off or freak you out by drawing my secret pictures of you and we can go to the masquerade ball together and live happily ever after. What do you say?"

"So, we have to get going. Mattie's dad is expecting us at home." I had never loved Ella more than I did in that moment. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out into the hallway.

I heard Jake say, "Later."

I kept my head down and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Ella steered me into the nearest girl's bathroom.

"What just happened? Why was Jake talking about getting his nose right?"

"The pictures," was all I could say. Ella looked at my sketchbook and quickly figured out that her answers would be there. She tried to pull it out of my hands, but I had a full-on death grip.

"Tilly, let it go. Let me see."

I shook my head. Ella started prying my fingers off, one at a time, and got the sketchbook free.

She opened it and gasped. She quickly flipped through the pictures until she got to the end of the Jake section.

"Oh, Tilly." The sympathy in her eyes and voice was almost more than I could handle. I leaned against the bathroom wall, and slid against it until I landed with a loud thump on the dirty floor. I didn't even care. I put my head in my hands. I was getting a killer stress headache. My throat ached with unshed tears.

I thought of all the embarrassing things that had happened to me over the years. Freshman year my shoes slipped in the courtyard and I landed flat on my butt in front of a hundred people. In eighth grade I really had to pee and didn't quite make it to the bathroom. In sixth grade I accidentally and loudly passed gas in the middle of a test, when the room was dead silent. I had a long history of humiliating experiences, but every single one of them paled in comparison to the way I felt now.

"You have to see the bright side of this. I don't think he cared."

I looked up at her, but my eyes were so watery that I couldn't see her. I had to blink several times to clear them up.

"He must think I'm a total nutjob."

Ella sat down on the floor next to me, which was impressive given her strong aversion to germs and general dirtiness, and put her arm around my shoulder. My shoulders stiffened in response. I didn't normally like being touched. Ella didn't seem to notice. "If he thought you were a nutjob he wouldn't have almost kissed you."

"He didn't almost…"

"Yes, he did." Ella cut me off firmly. "I thought something like that might happen if you two could spend some time alone. That's why I pretended to not have a working key."

My mouth dropped open in shock. "You had a key the whole time? You did this on purpose?"

"Not the sketchbook part, but the rest of it, yes."

Ella rested her head on my shoulder and it felt nice to be comforted. I thought about what Jake had said; how I rejected people before they could reject me. Ella wouldn't reject me. She was here with me, caring about me. Even when I had resented her or felt jealous of her, she hadn't changed. She still loved me and wanted a relationship with me. I let myself relax into her hug.

I had also started to doubt my own instincts because while it seemed like Jake would kiss me, and despite what Ella thought, he hadn't and then my world exploded with a nuclear mortification bomb.

"So, any ideas about what we're going to do with Mercedes?"

Jake had told me that Mercedes had given him the book. I had been so focused on the fact that he had the sketchbook that I completely blanked the part where that horrible wench had given it to him. She must have stolen it in study hall. Such a foul and heinous thing to do, that I couldn't even think of something that would make Mercedes understand how badly she had made me feel.