Tweet Cute(64)

It’s shallow enough we’re both standing, and Jack’s smirk is so close to mine, I’m breathing into his face, staring right into the flecks of brown in his eyes and the water streaming past them. The water feels like it’s lapping up behind me, nudging me closer to him. My head tilts upward, the challenge in Jack’s gaze softening and giving way to something else, and just like that, something is washed away—there is nothing between us but the charge I’ve been ignoring for weeks, bare and uninsulated, like something inevitable.

“There you are.”

I’m so alarmed to hear another voice cutting through the air that I jump, backward and away from Jack. The pool water sloshes around us and makes it all too evident what was about to happen, more evident than it was in the moments before it almost did.

My head swivels to see Landon on the pool deck, who, despite all appearances, looks oblivious to what he just interrupted.

I look at Landon, and then back at Jack, not sure which one of us he’s addressing. But Jack’s looking down at the water. A flush of embarrassment itches at my collarbone, works its way up my neck—did I misread things? Why won’t he look me in the eye?

“I was hanging back outside the locker rooms—I realized I don’t have your number,” Landon calls over the water.

I blink. “My number?”

“Yeah. So I can tell you where to meet up tomorrow?”

Senior Skip Day. It all comes rushing back to me in one fell swoop, one that feels almost like an inversion of jumping off the high dive, like something is crawling back into me instead of out of me. The pact Wolf and I made to meet up tomorrow. Hanging out with Landon. Two things I’m almost certain will be one and the same.

Two things I’m not sure if I want to be one and the same.

“Right. Uh…”

I doubt if there’s ever been a moment in my life more awkward than shouting my number across the pool as Landon types it into his phone, but then, directly following it, there is—the moment I look over at Jack and he looks at me, and there’s something so wobbly and uncertain in his gaze that I almost want to apologize and I’m not even sure why.

It’s over as fast as it happens. Jack flicks the water and sends a tiny drop in my direction.

“So you and Landon, huh?”

“We’re just—it’s for Senior Skip Day. Well, afterward. You know how everyone always ends up at the park after school lets out for real.”

Jack raises his eyebrows the way he does when he’s about to challenge me. “Well, it always starts that way, at least.”

I wrinkle my nose. “It’s not a date.” Is it?

“But you want it to be?”

“I…”

It’s not an answer because I don’t have one—but Jack seems to take it as one anyway. He shrugs, the gesture not quite matching his tone when he says, “I didn’t realize you guys were even friends.”

“Well, we text,” I hedge.

“You text?”

I don’t even know what makes me say it. Maybe it’s because he looks so genuinely perplexed. And why wouldn’t he? I suppose I’m not the kind of girl a guy like Landon would casually text—as far as social circles go, we’re in entirely different galaxies.

So I’m flustered and embarrassed, and before I can think through the ramifications, my stupid brain finds some way to justify it to him: “On Weazel.”

The surprise splits Jack’s face, widening his eyes, freezing the rest of him in place. I’m expecting him to ask for details—how we started chatting one-on-one, or when it was the app outed our identities to each other—but instead, he says, “I thought you said you weren’t on it.”

“I’m—barely. I’m not—anyway. It’s just a group thing. You’ll be there too, right? I’m pretty sure everyone is—”

“I have a shift to work,” says Jack, turning his back to me and taking a few quick strokes over to the edge of the pool.

“Jack.”

He pauses, his hand on the deck. I’m ramrod still, trying to think of something to say to make him stay, to bring two minutes ago back. Two minutes ago seems a lot more precious to me now that it’s gone.

But all I can think of to say is, “The bake sale. We need to figure out which time block we’re using so we can book it with Rucker.”

Jack’s shoulders give way to a sigh. “Let’s say Monday. Then everyone has the weekend to bake.”

“Right. Smart.” I bite my lip. Think of something else. But Jack is already pulling himself out of the water, turning and giving me a close-lipped smile and a tight wave before heading into the locker room and leaving me treading water alone in the pool with a disappointment I can’t name.





Jack


My mom sets a large piece of day-old cherry strudel in front of me.

“What’s got you in a funk?”

I know she actually means it because she’s offering me food at the register, which is a huge no-no in my dad’s book. My mom’s all about breaking tiny rules, though. I consider the strudel for a moment, and how I can’t remember a single time I’ve actually had a dessert at this place the day it was made. Maybe Pepper’s not even that good of a baker. Maybe it’s just that her stuff is actually fresh.