Thirteen

Jamie’s in the middle of painting some tropical-looking bird when I see him at lunch. He’s got yellow paint on his earlobe, and it makes me wonder how long it’s been there, or more specifically, how long it’s gone unnoticed.

I don’t interrupt him but I do slide my arms around him and hug him from behind. He keeps painting, but cracks a smile all the same, and leans back into me.

“Wanna eat?” I ask.

He’s obviously in the artist zone because he swishes his brush in the air toward one of the tables, where a half-eaten piece of cold pizza sits.

“Wasting away for art then? I admire your work ethic.”

Jamie laughs and leans out of my embrace, tucking the paintbrush behind his ear. Which explains the paint on his lobe. “I can eat if you want. This little bird was calling to me. I think it might be some kind of songbird, I don’t know. I’ll have to look it up.”

“You and your birds,” I say, but I say it with affection. “Ever paint, like, kittens or something?”

Jamie wrinkles his nose. “Nah. They don’t have wings.”

“So you’d paint a pterodactyl?”

“Ha. No. Just pretty, feathered wings.”

“Shallow.”

Jamie laughs again and we head to the table. He picks up his pizza and inspects it, probably for paint, before taking a bite. “Aren’t you eating?”

“Yeah, I think Meg has my lunch, though. I really just came in to see you and to, um, ask you out.”

Jamie chews slowly and then swallows. Then he sniffs at me. “I already have plans for tomorrow.”

“Oh,” I say, disappointed, even though that’s not exactly what I meant. I meant to ask, Will you be my boyfriend? “What kind of plans?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve got them,” Jamie says, and turns to me, giving me a dry look. “Or at least that’s what I’m supposed to say since you waited so damn long to ask me out again.”

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious? You’re pissed that I didn’t ask you out before now?”

“Yes. According to Cosmo you should have asked me out by Tuesday,” Jamie says, so seriously my heart starts to pound, and then he collapses into a fit of giggles. “Oh my god, your face.”

“You little jerk. I thought you were for real.”

He continues to laugh, sucking in air between fits. “Serves you right. Last Saturday was awesome, Sam. Really, you should have reserved me for every weekend for the next month after that.”

I let myself laugh at that, even if my heart is still beating in an unsteady pace. “You’re right. I really should have. Actually, that’s kind of what I’m hoping to do.”

Jamie, who had bitten down into his pizza again, freezes and stares at me. “What?” he asks around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.

“I’m asking you out. I mean, I’m asking you to be my boyfriend. Not just to go out on another date. I kind of do want to reserve you for every weekend. Like that old Beach Boys song about going steady and not leaving your best girl home on Saturday night or whatever that was.” I wince at myself. Whenever it truly counts, I can’t be smooth to save my life.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?” Jamie asks.

“Yeah. I mean, I know it was only one date, but . . . it was a really good date.”

“Really good,” Jamie agrees. Then he finally chews his pizza. “So does this mean I have to wear your class ring on a chain around my neck?”

“And my letterman jacket,” I say, and Jamie snorts. As he leans backward, revealing more skin around his neck that his T-shirt had hidden, I see that he’s already doing something better. “You’re wearing the cross.”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Jamie looks down, even though he can’t quite see where the cross hangs from a thin hemp cord from that angle, then reaches up to run his fingers over it. “So maybe I can skip the letterman jacket?”

I lean over and kiss him. Just once, quick and chaste, because who knows when his art teacher could walk into the room, and I do not want to spend my Friday afternoon in detention for PDA. “So tomorrow, then?”

Jamie blinks, his eyes focusing on me slowly. He still hasn’t quite gotten used to this kissing thing, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over his reactions to it. “Yeah, um. Tomorrow’s good. I mean, I didn’t actually have plans . . .”

A moment passes, where we just smile at each other like goons, and that makes me feel happy and grateful at the same time. Grateful to have found him, for the crazy spell that might be why I did, and to Meg and her goddess.

“It feels right. We feel right.” Jamie looks down at his hands. “I know. I’m fifteen and this is my first relationship ever. What do I know, right? But it feels right to me.”

“No, I agree. Jamie . . . I think I was supposed to meet you,” I say, and cringe at myself. “That sounded absolutely insane. Sorry.”

Jamie takes my hand and traces his thumb over my knuckles. “Not any more than what I just said.”

I smile before kissing him again, just one more time. “So it’s settled? You and I are . . . ?”

“We definitely are,” Jamie says, and this time he kisses me with a lot more enthusiasm than should be allowed at school.

“Well then, I’m going to go eat and tell my friends I’m going steady with the cutest guy in school.”

Jamie cracks up at that. “Okay. Call me tonight?”

“You bet,” I say, and leave him with his songbird.

I’m in the passenger seat of Landon’s car, on the way to Meg’s and then to the Blue Gator after that, to see Travis’s band and celebrate their signing with the rest of his friends.

That means it’s Saturday, a whole two days since I asked Jamie out, and I haven’t actually told Landon yet. I guess I figured Meg would tell him for me.

Okay, I was hoping Meg would tell him for me.

“I asked Jamie out,” I say, and because I’m so chicken, I look out the window as I talk. “And as far as I know, he doesn’t have a boyfriend in Paris or anything, and, you know, he seems to care about me, so this just might work.”

“The Perfect Ten?”

I chuckle a little. “He certainly has all the things on the list. And then some. He likes The Breakfast Club, so it’s a start.”

I feel Landon’s eyes on me, so I finally turn my face to look at him. To my relief, he’s smiling, and I feel a little silly. What did I expect? Of course he’s happy for me. This isn’t freshman year. We’re not dating. He’s not going to throw a fit like he did about Chad Anderson. He’s going to be happy for me, because we’re friends and that’s what friends do.

“Of course you forced him to watch that.”

“Hey, he forced me into watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I had to keep a light on while I slept last night.”

Landon snorts. “He gets major kudos that he convinced you to try it. I couldn’t even get you to watch The Dark Crystal.”

“Shut up, those dragon things were terrifying.”

“They were puppets, Sam.” Landon turns down Meg’s street and the Honda hums along the brick road. “So, two movies, huh?”

My stomach tightens. He’s not really asking about the movies. Landon and I must have watched a thousand movies while we were together, but I couldn’t tell you what they were about. Even the basics. We were too . . . busy. “Two,” I answer. I wait for him to look at me to add, “And we really did watch them. Mostly.”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain. It’s none of my business.”

“Then why ask?”

Landon is quiet, and we’ve arrived at Meg’s house, so he pulls over but doesn’t honk to get her attention. “Just being nosy, I guess,” he answers after a minute.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m taking it slow.”

Landon looks at me, trying to read me. I keep my face emotionless.

“Because you’re still scared it will mess things up?”

“Because I’m scared I’ll mess things up.” I bonk my head back against the headrest a few times for good measure. “He’s so great. Too great.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Landon says. He looks away, then he puts both his hands on the steering wheel and honks the horn. I’m not expecting it and I jump.

Meg bounds out of the house, clad in combat boots and fishnets, which means her parents must be out or sleeping or something. She throws herself into the backseat and we’re off.

The Blue Gator is one of the cooler bars in Athens. It’s huge and wide open in the middle, so there’s plenty of space for dancing, even if a band is playing on the stage. There’s a balcony that wraps around the entire room, so you always have a good view. I’ve only been here once before, about a year ago, when Landon and I went to see a band that wasn’t famous and turned out to not be that good, but they’d opened for some great bands like the Raconteurs, so we were expecting greatness.

This isn’t a ticketed show, so the bouncers at the door want ID. I just smile and say, “I’m Sam Raines,” and feel like the most fabulous, famous person in the world when they step aside and let me and my friends through.

The place is packed. The stage is set up for Liquid to play, and I can see several familiar guitars waiting on stands for Travis. Travis himself is leaning up against the bar, talking to a few women who are looking at him like they’d like to devour him, and I turn to Landon.

“Looks like Travis is already having a good night.”

Landon eyes me. “You sure you’re just friends now? Not a little jealous?”

I turn back to watch Travis. One of the girls laughs a little too loud and lays a hand on his chest. I know exactly what he feels like under her hand—warm and solid and smooth. “Maybe a little,” I admit. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Before I can even reach the bar, though, Travis has caught me up in his arms, and I lean into him out of reflex. His mouth meets mine and damn, the man can kiss. He swirls his tongue around mine once, twice, and presses himself into me farther before finally releasing me with a laugh. “Sorry, friends now. I forgot. We are just friends, right?”

The look in Travis’s eye is wicked, naughty, and just a little bit hopeful. I give him a soft smile. “Just friends. I’m a taken man now.”

The smile that widens on Travis’s face almost makes it worth it to me that that was our last kiss. Almost. “You asked him out?”

“Thursday.”

“You’re a fast worker. I like that.” Travis winks at me, and then, like he’s used to people waiting on him hand and foot, he wiggles a finger at the bartender and motions to me. Seconds later, I have a drink in my hands. “It’s not a Black Widow, I promise.”

Travis winks again and I take a sip. There’s no guesswork in this drink, no illusion of a sober future—this drink is nothing but whiskey.

“I have to go. We’re going to play a few before we sign the contracts. Reps from the label are here to cart my soul off to L.A. as soon as I sign in blood, and they’d like to get a move on. This whole clean-air, small-town atmosphere thing is making them dissolve.”

I laugh and reach down, squeezing his hand. “Don’t forget me when you’re rich and famous.”

“Of course not. I could never forget a boy with those abs. Sean or Steve, or . . . was it Seth?”

“Ha, very funny.”

“Save me a dance?” he asks, and doesn’t wait for my answer. He snaps his fingers at Vanessa and Brendon, who immediately drop what they’re doing to follow him to the stage. He may not be the lead singer, but he’s the leader of the band, and it suddenly hits me that if they succeed in this at all, it’s because of his drive and his brains.

Huh. Maybe he really could have been a Perfect Ten.

I make a mental note to talk to Meg about her religion more.

While Liquid plays, I dance with Meg and Landon, mostly the meat in their sandwich. Okay, so I don’t really dance, more like I hop up and down. Sam Raines is not the best dancer in the world. Landon can dance, though, like, really dance, like he’s one of Beyoncé’s backup dancers or something. I swear that’s half the reason that he’s popular. If he’s on the dance floor at a party, everyone’s watching. So I hang back and do my thing, watching Landon and watching the crowd with awe. All of these people are here, supporting Travis and his band. A huge burst of pride surges in my chest as the band signs the agreements with their future record company. The entire crowd cheers and it’s such a cool feeling, to feel a part of something right at its inception. Someday, when Travis’s walls are crowded with awards and platinum records and magazine covers, I’ll be able to say that I was there the night it all began.

When it’s all over and the record execs whisk the contracts away, Travis appears at my side again. I am flattered down to my bones.

“Don’t you want to go spend some time with Vanessa and Brendon?” I ask.

“You promised me a dance. Then I’ll do whatever. I’ve got all night.”

The song the DJ is playing is slow, down-tempo electronic rock, almost like he wants to blend with Liquid’s sound. I hand Landon my drink before heading to the floor with Travis. We move just as slow, our bodies tight together, my arms around his waist.

“We have to leave in a week. They want us in a studio before the end of the month.”

I pull back from Travis and look up at his face. “That’s soon.”

“It is. Sooner than I’d planned. I’ve got to write a lot this week, but I’ve got a lot I’ve been saving that I’m dying to record too. We’ll see.”

A week. That’s not quite long enough to have a friendship, even. I rest my head on Travis’s shoulder and say into his ear, “That’s just . . . really soon.”

“I know. But I’ll be back. Sometime in January, maybe sooner. Whenever we can get the tracks laid down right. Then we can try this friendship thing. But first . . .” Travis’s hand cups my chin and he holds me still like that so he can kiss me on the lips. “That was the last kiss. I swear. Don’t wanna mess things up with your boyfriend, old buddy, old pal.”

I chuckle sadly. January seems so far away. “You should go talk to those girls again,” I say, already missing him.

“The slutty-looking ones?”

“Yeah, those are the ones.” I snort.

“What would I want with them?” Travis says, that wickedness dancing in his eyes again.

“Something that a friend can’t give you,” I say pointedly, and glance back at the group of girls in question.

“Yeah,” Travis muses, looking at them too, then he turns back to me with a sheepish grin. “Guess I’m settling for second best tonight. I’ll call you before I leave, okay?”

I watch him make his way through the crowd back to the girls, and in seconds they’re laughing at something he’s said, pawing at him at every opportunity. The jealousy in me has waned a little, made small by how proud I feel of him, and the certainty of knowing he’s going to be an awesome friend. This is how it should be, I suppose.

“Want to dance?”

I turn and Landon is holding out a hand to me, an expectant grin on his face.

“Of course.”

Dancing with Landon is different from dancing with Travis. Even though Landon’s practically a professional, he lets me lead, following each sway and dip of my body. It’s fun, more fun that I remember it being, easy and carefree. I can do anything, goofy or ridiculous, and he just follows me, laughing along, no questions asked. Even the moments where it must be obvious that he’s outshining me—when his hips do something so fluid it’s mesmerizing, or he turns so quickly I know I would have fallen on my face—I don’t feel the least bit self-conscious, or like I’m not good enough. And when a slow song comes on and it’s time to stop laughing, he just slides himself into my arms. We fit so well, and my hands flatten over the small of his back, pressing him close. It’s a weird thought, but for a second I wonder if our bodies remember each other, if my skin remembers his skin, my nerves his nerves; if our pulses find the same rhythm again.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m happy for him.”

Landon’s quiet at that, then he turns his head so that his mouth is close to my ear. “I’m having fun.”

I bring him just a little closer to me, his body stretched and leaning against mine as we sway. Yes, Landon’s a friend, but there’s something about this, this moment with him so close against me like he used to be all the time, that makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong. Something a little sinful. And I know I’ll never tell Jamie about it, just as I’ll never tell him Travis kissed me good-bye.

“Me too,” I say, and we keep dancing.

It’s well past midnight when we leave. Meg’s been all around the room, dancing even with Travis, but Landon and I haven’t moved far from our original place. And when he drops me off at my house we don’t say anything about it to each other. Not a word, because like so much else between us, there’s nothing to say about it. It is what it is, and that’s that.

At some point during the next week, Jamie stops going to the art room during lunch to paint, and starts showing up at my table. Meg beams at him, flashing a row of white teeth, picks up her books, and makes room. Just like that, he’s in our circle. When Landon skips out on band and joins us, he sits next to Meg instead of me, and just gives Jamie a little nod.

“Fisher, nice to see you.”

Yeah, Jamie’s definitely in.

What’s really awesome, though, is that the next week, Jamie’s friends join us too. Kit and Meg get along like they were twins separated at birth, bonding over their mutual interests in making their parents crazy and boys that don’t treat them right. Sean, Jamie’s other best friend, is completely chill. He’s a lot like Landon in a way. Not nearly as social, but completely laid-back. He just kind of laughs along with everyone and when he does offer his opinion or crack a joke, I can see why Jamie made him a best friend. He’s wicked smart and probably keeps secrets like some sort of CIA agent.

One day, after Meg and Kit get up to return their cafeteria trays and Sean mumbles something about a missing homework assignment and stalks off, I lean into Jamie and say, “Does it creep you out a little?”

“That our friends are exactly alike?” I snort in response, and Jamie just laughs. “Yeah, a little.”

But it’s good. It’s very good. And it makes Jamie feel even more right than before.

Jamie even starts coming to the Donkey with us after school, and it’s like he was part of our little group all along. He lets Meg explain things about Wicca and pretends to agree, even though he shoots me questioning looks over the top of her head, and Landon begins to use him as his source of sophomore gossip.

A thought or two about Travis sneaks in, but only to wonder about how he is—I am purely Jamie’s boy now. But Travis does call, just once, before leaving. He says they’re ready for the studio and as casual as he tries to act about it, I catch the tremor of excitement in his voice. He asks about Jamie, and all I can say is, “He’s perfect, Travis,” and I think I truly mean it.

That Friday, after our daily trip to the Donkey, Jamie walks with me back to my house so that I can pick up a car and drive him home. Landon, our usual ride, had some sort of meeting after school, debate or something, but that’s okay. It’s more time with Jamie. And it will be the first time my parents have met him. I admit, I’ve been hiding him away a little bit. I guess after Gus and my mom got on so well, I couldn’t quite bring myself to introduce them to Jamie, but it can’t be helped now.

My mother takes one look at him and recognizes a kindred. “Ah, the prodigy!”

Jamie winces with embarrassment, and I mouth a “Sorry!” to him as Mom scoops him into a hug. “So talented. I couldn’t get over the painting you gave Sam. I could stare at it for hours.”

“Bring it down, Mom,” I say. Obviously, it was too much to hope for that she would just hand us the car keys and we could be on our merry way.

She lets Jamie go, but not without offering him food first.

“A sandwich? Cookies?”

“Mom. The keys.”

“I’m sorry, am I embarrassing you in front of your boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s official, then, huh?” My mother clasps her hands together, hopeful.

“You didn’t tell her I’m your boyfriend?” Jamie asks, pouting, playing like he’s hurt.

“Oh my god. Keys. Please?”

Mom hands me the keys to her Prius and pats my cheek. “Don’t be out too late. Your father is planning major revisions tonight and he can’t have you barging in, interrupting his flow.”

Jamie finds the whole discussion wonderfully ridiculous and snickers all the way to the car. “Your mom is great.”

I roll my eyes. “Get in. And stop encouraging her, would you?”

“What? She’s fun.” We pile into the car and the Prius silently makes its way down the road. Jamie watches me intently. “So your dad is back?”

“For now,” I say. Truthfully, I haven’t seen him enough to notice. He came home from New York two days ago with his latest manuscript marked up in so much red it looked like it was bleeding, and he hasn’t come out of his office since. “I think he’s going to help me edit my writing samples for college applications soon.”

If he remembers, anyway.

It’s like Jamie reads my mind because he says, cautiously, “Well, I’m no writer, but I read a ton. If you want an extra pair of eyes, I’d love to read your stuff.”

I look away from the road to look at him. “Really? That would be great.”

“Of course. That’s what boyfriends are for, right?”

“It’s probably written in the fine print.”

Jamie laughs and I park the Prius in his driveway. I lean over to kiss him good-bye but he puts two fingers on my lips, stopping me. I make an undignified sound that might be the kind of sound a puppy makes waiting on a treat.

Jamie’s smile is one part amused and one part triumphant, and I scowl.

“Why don’t you come in?” he asks after making me wait a few more seconds than I like.

In. He’s never invited me in before. My palms start sweating instantly, like the giant geek that I am.

“I . . . um . . .”

“Mom has the late shift tonight. She won’t be home until almost midnight.”

“Okay.” I stare at him.

“So. We’d be alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. Unsupervised. No chaperone. Completely scandalous.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“You just seem so confused about what I’m trying to say.”

I laugh, embarrassed, and cover my face with my hands. “Not confused.”

“Shocked, then?” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that reminds me of Landon. “I only look like an angel, you know.”

I laugh so hard at that I get tears in my eyes. As out of character as it is for Jamie to comment on his looks, that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Are you sure?” I ask him.

“Yes,” he says, and to his credit, there’s no hesitation. He cocks his head at me. “But maybe you aren’t?”

When I don’t answer right away, Jamie settles back into the car seat and stares out the window.

“Jamie . . .”

“It’s okay, Sam,” he says, but his voice is tight so I think it’s probably a lie. “I wouldn’t be sure about me either.”

“It’s not that,” I say. I put a hand on his knee and he looks at me, finally. “I’m sure about you.”

He just looks at me, with those pale blue eyes all wide and hurt, and that’s all it takes for the whole thing to come tumbling out of me in a big rush. I tell him about Landon, about how he and I behaved together and how for the longest time I blamed that dysfunction on us getting physical so soon, never realizing that we just had an incredibly unhealthy relationship, period. I even tell him about what Travis said, although I don’t tell him it was Travis who said it.

“And regardless of knowing the difference now, I guess I’m still a little scared. Okay, a lot scared. Because I would never want us to be the way Landon and I were. I like us too much, Jamie.” He folds his hand over mine. “I like how we talk and joke around and care about each other’s art. If I ever get so jealous of you painting that I ask you to stop it, or get so jealous of every guy that looks at you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Jamie is looking at me, but it’s like he’s not seeing me. His eyes are focusing on something different, like a memory. “Sam, I have a question.”

“Okay.”

“Was it ever you that acted controlling? Or was it just Landon?”

I think about it for a moment. “Unless I’m not remembering right, which is a possibility, it was mostly Landon.”

“And you recognized that there was something wrong about it, even if you didn’t get the root of the problem exactly right.”

“Yeah.”

Jamie cups my jaw in his hand and forces me to keep his gaze. “Then why on earth do you think you’d do these things to me? You need to stop blaming yourself for what was mostly Landon’s problem.”

I open my mouth to defend Landon, but Jamie isn’t done.

“And furthermore, I’d never do those things to you. Do you know how much I love it that you write? And so what if you take a lot of time to do it. That just gives me time to paint. We both have things we love to do, Sam, and yeah, those things require some time apart, but that just means that we have incredible experiences to share when we see each other again. It makes us both better people.”

A whole minute passes before I speak. “You really love it that I write?”

Jamie’s smile is big. Genuine. “I do.”

The list, and the hopes I’d sent out to the universe or the Goddess or whatever, pop into my head. I’d put “talented” on there. I guess what I should have also put down was “appreciation for my own talents too.” Regardless, the Goddess seems to have thought ahead for me.

Maybe I owe Meg another meal at Seven Sauces.

“And you’d really help me with these samples for my college applications?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I think my dad is going to forget.”

Jamie nods. “Sounds like he’s busy right now. So come in. I’ll read them and tear them apart for you,” he says, eyes dancing with humor. “If you can handle it.”

“You can’t be any worse than my father,” I say, and it’s a joke but it’s also true. I glance over at Jamie’s house, considering. Jamie notices.

“We can stay at the kitchen table and I swear I won’t make a move.”

Which reminds me of Travis a little, and I laugh. It’s a little soggy sounding. Imagine that. Someone shows me they care and suddenly I’m a crying fool.

“Deal. Jamie, it’s really . . . I mean, Landon wouldn’t have . . . and it’s awesome that you . . .” I give up. “Thanks for doing this.”

“I told you. That’s what boyfriends do. Or they should,” Jamie says, and I pick up what he’s laying down: Landon should have treated me better.

“You sure you’ve never had a boyfriend before?”

“Never, but I feel like I’ve been training for it my whole life.” Though his voice is light, there’s a seriousness in him that I can see and sense. His eyes are focused, sharp, like his Jubjub bird. I recognize that feeling, down to my bones. I open my mouth to say something, I don’t know what, but Jamie speaks again. “You know how you said you thought we were supposed to meet?”

“Yeah?”

Jamie lifts a hand to his throat, fingers the knotted cross lying there. “About a week or so before you came to Seven Sauces, I prayed for the first time since Dad died, Sam. I prayed to find someone. And I know I’m going to sound crazy . . . like a religious freak or a superstitious idiot . . . but . . . it can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

My whole body tingles, every hair rising up, my nerves on high alert. I could swear there’s a buzz or a hum in the car.

I shake my head. “No, Jamie. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Because I don’t think you’re a freak or an idiot for saying that. Anyone else might, but you’ve met just about the only other person in this podunk town, besides Meg, who doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

Jamie kisses me then, and there’s another hum, though it might be a feeling more than a sound. He pulls away briefly, then kisses me again. “One more. Improves the odds that I’ll actually behave myself inside.”

He winks, which is about enough to make me throw any self-control I have out the window, but thankfully when we go inside he does behave, and I leave a few hours later knowing how to fix my stories.