8 Years ago
Jace and I sit in silence on a varnished park bench, shaded by the oak trees creaking in the sighing wind. A pond in front of us glimmers scarlet from the sinking sun while geese nibble the grass along the edge.
When Jace's eyes fell on mine, I wish I wasn't sitting next to a man who was so damn attractive. He's wearing a long sleeve—Henley that showcases his muscular arms. His jawline is sharp, cheekbones strong, and those deep dimples. I'm such a sucker for his dimples. His lips are full, and I wished I'd stop daydreaming how they'd feel against mine. I also wished I didn't feel the bite of my hand meet his cheek when he untied my bikini string earlier that afternoon.
Our knees touch, and even though this is so simple, it sends a shiver along my skin. The summer breeze wafts up his woodsy aftershave, and it gives me a head rush. He even smells good. My stomach drops. The blood drains from my face, remembering — the tug of the string, my top feathering off in the pool. I spun around fast, and the palm of my hand smacked across his cheek before my brain registered what he'd done.
Jace shifts on the park bench. His chin lowers to his chest like he is trying to disappear. Those chestnut eyes are vacant from mine. No words, only an inaudible sigh as he retreats into his thoughts. I wish I could read them. He stares down at his hands, clenching on a Razor flip phone. It rings. Again. Maybe for the fourth or fifth time. Who knew? At first, I paid no attention to it, but the entire afternoon someone calls as if their entire existence depends on him.
There is an unnatural stillness when he glances over with a sad smile. It dawns on me. He’s only trying to sleep with me.
"Who keeps calling?" I ask under my breath and cross my arms.
Whoever was on the other end called when he picked me up. They called when we arrived at his house. When we went swimming, his cell phone rang on the kitchen counter. Even when I came out of the bathroom, changed, and dried off from the pool, I caught him glued to the phone. Jace stays silent. The more they call, the more my chest aches.
A voice whispers in my ears Jace should be sitting here with someone else.
"It's Sarah..." he plants a hand over his heart and rubs the fabric of his shirt that frames his muscular chest. The chest I imagine running my hands across, but I'm too goddamn nervous and scared of being used. The phone rings again. "I'm sorry, Hailie," Jace's voice is thick with emotion.
"Are you going to pick up the phone?" I ask. The question makes him hunch over. He seems entirely disconnected from my presence altogether. Jace gives the phone a cold, dead stare that refuses to lift. If he is so prone to ignoring the phone call, why doesn't he turn his cell phone off?
Jace shrugs half—heartedly, and there is a long pause before he responds. "I'm not sure if I want to."
"Is she your girlfriend?"
He scoffs. "No."
I grip the park bench at my side, confident he lies straight to my face. Blood boils and rushes to my cheeks. I finally gather the courage to hang out with Jace, but an awful image of him flirting and hooking up with another girl eats at my insides.
"Are you two sleeping together or something? Are you fuck buddies?" I ask with a tightness in my chest. A heavyweight sinks to the pit of my stomach, sensing he'll tell me what I don't want to hear. We meet each other's gaze, and the soft summer breeze blows the fabric of his shirt.
I'm unsure if I want to hear the answer when guilt swells in Jace's eyes. A disheveled look plasters on his face when he confesses, "We have, yes."
I swallow down the bulge in my throat, reminding myself to be careful of what I ask. It feels like my heart is shrinking from Jace admitting it. I wish he lied. I wish all the rumors about Jace weren't true, but they are. I wish I never agreed to hang out. I'm not the type of girl to go out and drink the night away, but Jace always hangs around the girls who do. I'm not popular. I'm not prancing the halls in a cheerleading uniform. But Jace holds hands with another girl every other week wearing one.
"She must have feelings for you then," I imply with a jealous sting clutching my lungs. "I've called my ex—boyfriend constantly until he picked up the phone," I admit. Raw emotions tangle between him and someone else while mine are crumbled up like garbage and forgotten.
"It's not that it's—"
"What is it then?" I interrupt, gaping at him with a painful stare. I'm wasting time sitting next to Jace. He refuses to tell me what's going on. He ignores the girl calling. Why won't he answer or face whatever it is?
He holds out the weight of his palms and utters, "It's complicated." Jace pulls off his baseball cap and throws it down on the bench. He leans forward with hands ruffling his short—cropped black hair.
"Why am I the one sitting here?"
"Because I want to hang out with you."
An awful ache blossoms in my chest. I feel my skin bunch around my eyes, and I bite my bottom lip to hold back the first tear threatening to slide down. The first time I gather the courage to hang out with Jace will be my last. I'm about to cry. I hate crying because it won't solve a thing. It never does. It hurts. Everything hurts because the moment I met Jace, Freshman year in high school, he left me in stammers. I'm unable to speak. I can't process or focus on anything but my heartbeat hammering into my ears when he says hi or flashes his bright smile in my direction.
Jace saturated my chest with butterflies and grappled with my heart for the past three years. Every day I froze when I saw him stride through the crowded hallways. All six feet and two inches of him left me paralyzed.
Jace made the weight in my chest unbearable to hold. Of course, we only met through a mutual friend. She possessed an unhealthy crush on him. It was beyond annoying she did everything and anything to seize his attention. She berated me when he asked for my cell number. Then she rubbed it in my face with the story of Jace sneaking out her bedroom window.
Again, the phone rings.
"Jace, pick up the phone!"
Jace picks up the phone and places it to his ears. "Hello."
"Are you with another girl? I've tried texting you, calling you, and you won't answer me!" I hear another girl scream on the other end.
The muscles in my arms tense, and my heart slams against my chest. I shouldn't be here with Jace. He messes around, collecting numbers and who he'll fuck around with next. I should listen to my intuition that I'm another one on his list. It's stupid of me to consider for even a second I'm any different.
The girl on the other end probably pictures me as a spineless whore. God, that is such an impetuous thought.
Jace sighs and gazes into the sky. "I'm hanging out with a friend."
"Are you sleeping with her too?" The girl yells.
Jace excuses himself and walks several steps away from the bench. His free hand rests in his jean pocket as he walks into the fresh—cut grass. Birds flutter away when he steps into their path, and both of their voices fade.
Jogger's feet jar on the pathway when Jace walks back several minutes later. He slumps onto the bench, slipping his cell phone into his jean pocket.
"You're dating someone else? Why didn't you tell me?"
Jace laces his fingers together and leans forward on the bench. His feet spread wide apart. "Sarah and I slept together at a party." He holds his breath, peering into my eyes. "She's pregnant."
"What?" I swallow hard, and my stomach doubles over on itself. It's like Jace severed my lifeline. I cannot focus or speak. It's sufficient to say I should avoid him altogether before. I refuse to become another broken piece he tosses to the ground. I don't want to like Jace anymore. Not if it makes me feel this worthless.
"I don't think it's mine, but she claims it is."
The blood drains from my face for the second time today as I choke out, "She's pregnant?" We are only seventeen years old. I veer away and cover my mouth and ask, "Are you sure?" I want to believe it's a lie, but another part of me tells me nothing will ever be the same now.
He stares down at his hands, resting in his lap as if they hold all the answers he searches for. "I found out about a week ago. We aren't sure what we want to do."
"I don't think I'm the girl you should be sitting next to, Jace," I say and hate to admit it. I despise the jealous twinge cinching at me.
"I don't want you to leave." He scans my face, and his finger traces the strands of my braided hair. Jace opens his mouth to speak more, but his voice remains silent. Neither of us have anything else to say. We both realize I'm unable to stay here. It's royally wrong for me to be with him when he knocked someone else up.
I clasp both knees and lift myself off the park bench. "I'm sorry. I should go home."
