Chapter 22

22

ZACH

The girls kept up a lively stream of chatter from the back seat of Jason's truck as we made our way into the city. They mapped out which stores they wanted to hit and made a plan for the day while I tried unsuccessfully to bury the odd tension I now felt around him. He didn't say much, mostly leaving me to my own thoughts, but I'd felt him glancing my way a few times when he thought I wasn't looking.

Upon arriving in Omaha, we started the day with lunch in the Old Market. Jason and Mandy led the way to Spaghetti Works, unaware it was a landmine of old memories relating to our mom. When they discovered the last time we'd eaten there had been just hours before Mom died, they insisted on eating somewhere else, but Drea put her foot down. She said it was time we stopped letting things like that keep us from moving forward.

Over pasta and garlic bread, we shared stories about our mom, and I had to give credit to Drea—it had been cathartic. And though we'd eventually moved on to lighter topics, the mood remained somber through lunch. But as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, with the sun shining and holiday shoppers bustling across the street, I breathed deeply. Talking about Mom that way had been heavy but cleansing, and I thought maybe Drea was right. It was time to stop repressing those memories. Stop hiding from them to avoid the hurt. Mom deserved to be talked about. Other people—our closest friends—should know just how amazing she was.

Resolved to not let the heaviness of our lunch weigh down the rest of our day, I pasted on a smile and asked, "Where to?"

Jason stared at me with an assessing eye while Drea responded, "Let's head over to the record store. I still need one more thing for Dad."

The girls led the way while we followed a short distance behind. I could feel Jason watching me, shooting little glances my way he thought I wouldn't notice, just like he had on our way into the city. His hand bumped against mine, and I wondered what it would be like to grab it. To thread his fingers through mine and walk down the street like a couple.

I'd been having more and more thoughts like that since he'd fallen asleep on my couch last week. Little what-if thoughts like whispers in my ear that I did my best to ignore but couldn't quite push away. No matter how much I tried to fight it, it was becoming evident that my feelings for my best friend had extended beyond platonic into something…more. But even if I wanted to put myself out there and share my feelings, it didn't seem fair to put that on him when I knew he couldn't reciprocate. And knowing Jason the way I did, knowing the kind of person he was, he'd feel guilty, and that was the last thing I wanted. It wasn't something he could help, but I knew he'd feel bad all the same. So I shut down thoughts of holding hands, swatting them away like an annoying gnat buzzing in my ear, and did my best to put it out of my mind.

"I'm okay, you know. You can stop shooting me glances every couple of feet to see if I'm going to fall apart."

"Sorry. I don't mean to. I just…"

I watched as the girls entered the record shop about halfway up the block before stepping out of the way of the other shoppers and turning to Jason.

"So here's the thing. When we went back to school after the accident, everybody treated us differently. No one knew what to say, so they didn't say anything. They stopped texting. Stopped hanging out. Teachers gave us sad looks. In the process of losing my mom, I also lost my friends. And so did Drea."

"Yeah, I remember you saying something about that this summer."

"Right. And I also told you that was why I didn't say much about it when we moved to Astaire. I didn't want to be the sad kid who lost his mom anymore. I just wanted a regular senior year."

"I get that."

"Good. Then stop shooting me the side-eye."

"I didn't mean?—"

I put my hand up to stop him. "I know. You're a good guy, Jason. I know it's because you care. But I promise, I'm okay. Please don't treat me any differently. I don't want to lose you too."

His eyes softened, and for the second time since I'd arrived back in Nebraska, he pulled me into his arms. "You aren't going to lose me."

I let my arms come up to return the embrace, allowing myself to explore the sensation of being held by him. A warmth emanated from him that felt so damn good. I wanted to revel in it.

Too soon, he pulled away, leaving me feeling empty. "Come on. Let's go find the girls."

We spent a pleasant afternoon shopping with the girls in the Old Market, eventually making a trip to the outlet mall for a few other things before returning to Astaire exhausted but happy. The girls had dragged us from shop to shop, arms laden with shopping bags, laughing and giggling along the way. Shopping was generally not my favorite pastime, especially the weekend before Christmas when crowds were large and lines were excessively long, but I'd found myself unbothered by it amid the pleasure of spending time with those who mattered most.

The truth was, I'd missed this. The semester had been busy enough that I hadn't had time for any serious bouts of homesickness, but there'd been small moments when I'd been caught unaware and felt a pang of longing for the people who knew me best. This afternoon, there'd been moments when I'd felt that same pang, only this time in gratitude. The way the sunlight caught on Drea's hair. The sound of her laugh. Her eyes twinkling in merriment. Jason's quiet steadiness. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The sarcastic comments he threw at Mandy, who returned them right back, both of them smiling with obvious affection. Those were the sorts of things I'd missed in LA.

I was tucking my shopping bags in the back of my closet when Drea bounded into the room and plopped on my bed. "You didn't get enough of me today?"

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Gotta make up for lost time."

I closed the closet door and went to sit next to her on the bed. "Did you have a good day today?"

"Best day I've had in a long time. Thanks for coming with us."

"I'm glad I came," I said quietly. "I missed you this semester."

Her eyes snapped to mine. "Really?"

I chuckled. "Well, yeah."

She searched my face as if trying to determine the truth in my words. "I missed you too," she said with a sigh as she laid her head on my shoulder. We sat like that for a moment, enjoying the quiet after a long, busy day.

After a while, she straightened, turning toward me and tucking one foot under her. "So, what's going on with you and Jason?"

I froze, surprised at the question and unsure how to respond. "Why do you ask?" I stalled.

She laughed. "You have a shit poker face."

"Fuck off." I threw a pillow at her. "You caught me off guard."

She caught the pillow, but rather than throw it back at me, she wrapped her arms around it while she looked at me with a shrewd eye. "You're different with him."

"Different, how?"

"I don't know. You're more…you."

A snort escaped me. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"You've always had this…front you put on with other people. If there's a crowd, you're in the thick of it. Quick with a joke. Flirting with the girls. Ribbing the bros. You're big and loud. The life of the party."

I could feel my shoulders rising, tension creeping in at being called out like that. She made me sound like some sort of attention-seeking douche. Agitated, I moved to get off the bed, but she reached out and stopped me.

"It's not bad, Zach. You're not a dick about it. People genuinely like you. It's why you got homecoming king even though we'd only lived here a few months."

"Okay…" I still didn't know what she was getting at.

"It's just…that guy, while fun and all, was never you. Not the real you. When you're with Jason, you're relaxed. Quiet. Happy to let someone else take the lead."

I thought about it. Tried to see it from the outside looking in. She was right, I realized. About all of it. "He's my friend. He makes it…easy, I guess, to be me."

"Why do you think that is? Why is it easier with him than it is with anyone else?"

I thought about that too, and the honest answer was I didn't know. Going back to that first bonfire of the summer, I'd never understood why Jason had the ability to pry me open when no one else could. I'd stopped trying to figure it out months ago and had just accepted it for the gift it was.

"What are you getting at, Drea?"

Her eyes softened, her head tilting to one side. "I've seen the way you look at him." Her voice was soft. Careful. Patient. "You've never looked at anyone the way you look at him."

"How do I look at him?"

I was giving too much away with the question, but this was Drea, and maybe a part of me wanted her to know. To have someone to talk to. To help me make sense of the craziness I'd been feeling for a while now.

"Like he's a tall glass of water in the middle of a desert."

I could feel my cheeks heating. I looked down for a moment, fiddling with the hem of my jeans, debating how to respond.

"I think I like him."

My words were tentative, spoken softly, but there was no taking them back. They hung heavy between us, the weight of my admission impossible to measure as one beat of my heart stretched to two, then three, and by the fourth, I looked up, unable to wait any longer for her response.

"Have you told him?"

I scoffed. "Hell no. I wasn't even sure what I was feeling until I got home last week."

"Last week ? Jesus, Zach. You're such an idiot."

"Thanks, sis." My tone dripped with sarcasm and I ran my hands roughly through my hair before flinging myself back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

"How long do you think you've had a thing for him? Because, by my estimation, it's been at least since the Fourth of July."

I turned my head to stare at her. "I started dating Leslie on the Fourth of July."

"Right. As I said. Idiot."

I huffed out a breath, returning my gaze to the ceiling as Drea lay next to me. I thought about the time I'd spent with him this summer. The bonfires. The overlook. Playing video games. Hanging with our friends at Sherry's Soft-Serv. Morning runs. And yeah, the Fourth of July. But even looking back with eyes open to the possibility, I didn't think there was one moment I could point to as the source of my…crush, I guessed you could call it.

It was the culmination of a thousand little moments. A gentle smile. A kind word. An ear to listen. How many miles had our feet traveled on our morning runs while I unloaded my shit? My grief and anger, sadness and stress, and fear? Things I'd never shared with anyone.

Then there were the texts. So many texts. He always responded, any time of day. No matter the topic. Sometimes, he made me laugh. Sometimes, he made me think. Always, he made me smile.

I turned and looked at Drea, unsure how to distill those thoughts into words.

"I…I don't think I can pinpoint when it started. I just know he has this way of making me feel…known. He's always been easy to talk to. He has this quiet intensity, you know? Like when I'm talking to him, he actually listens. He doesn't look at his phone. He doesn't interrupt to tell you some story about himself. He just…listens. Like he genuinely wants to hear what I have to say. Like it's the most interesting thing in the world."

She nodded, then tucked her hand under her cheek. "He's an old soul."

"Exactly."

"Okay, but Mandy and I have that kind of relationship, and I'm not crushing on my best friend. So what's the difference?"

It was all so tangled in my mind. I didn't understand it myself. "I don't know if I can explain it. I hadn't even thought about it this way until a couple of weeks ago when my roommate made the assumption that the guy I was texting back home was my boyfriend. He saw a picture of Jason and said he was hot."

"He is hot."

"Ew. Ew, no." I sat up and glared at her. "No, thank you. Never say that to me again."

It wasn't that I thought either of them was actually into the other, but just the suggestion left me feeling…icked out.

She laughed and sat up to face me. "You don't think he's hot?"

"Of course I think he's hot. But you…you're not allowed to think he's hot."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Zach. How many times do I need to call you an idiot in the same conversation?"

"How about zero times? Maybe, like, don't call me an idiot at all?"

"Then don't give me a reason to."

I wanted to argue the point, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure I had a leg to stand on.

"I just…" Deflating, I blew out a breath. "Once Clayton put that out there, that he thought Jason was my boyfriend, I couldn't get it out of my mind. And I started to wonder if maybe there was something there."

"And is there something there?"

This time, I didn't hesitate. "Yeah. I think there is."

A smile spread slowly across her face, her eyes alighting from within.

"What?" I asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm happy for you. Jason's such a sweet guy. You deserve someone like him."

I let out a laugh, completely devoid of humor. "Slow your roll, sis. Pretty sure this is a one-sided thing."

"You don't see the way he looks at you." I raised a skeptical brow but didn't say anything more. I was pretty sure she didn't know he was ace, and it wasn't my news to share. "He looks at you just like you look at him. You're both besotted."

I snorted. "Besotted? Who says words like besotted? You've been watching Bridgerton again, haven't you?"

"Don't be a dick. And stop deflecting." She shoved my shoulder playfully. "I'm telling you, I don't think it's one-sided. You should talk to him."

"Don't get your hopes up."

"Ugh." She stood in a huff. "Why are boys so stupid?"

I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to answer that.

She started to stomp away, but I reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her. I tugged a couple of times until she reluctantly turned to look at me. "Thanks for making me talk about Mom today. It was good to talk about her. To share her with Mandy and Jason." Her gaze softened, the irritation from moments before fading. I tugged a piece of her hair. "You remind me of her."

Her eyes filled, and I pulled her in for a hug. We stood there in my bedroom, arms wrapped around each other, giving and receiving comfort. With a sniff, she pulled away and swiped her fingers under her eyes. "I'm going to head to bed."

"Okay. Goodnight," I called out to her.

"Night."