Tweet Cute(71)

“No,” I say, too quickly. “No, no, we’re just friends.”

“The people of the internet have spoken, Pep, and they ship Jactricia.”

I pull a face, shuddering. “Please tell me nobody actually typed that ship name with their bare hands.”

“I would, but that would make me a liar.” She tilts her head back up to stare at the boys, who are now engaged in what seems like a drunken game of Red Rover that will inevitably end with at least one broken bone and two very angry coaches. “Anyway, he’s clearly not as big of a dope as this lot, so he has that going for him.”

I laugh, turning my head away from them because it is honestly starting to make me nervous. But just as soon as I turn away, I blink myself there again, standing in the shallow end of the pool, staring into Jack’s face in that breathless, hesitant moment from yesterday. In some ways I’ve been there all day, the thought of it latching and tugging to every other thought, refusing to leave me alone. For a moment I just let it happen to me, let it take me to wherever it wants to go, and then—

“Oh, god.”

“What?”

My stomach lets out one of those ominous, inevitable kind of roils, and I manage to blurt, “I’m definitely gonna hurl.”

Pooja doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay. Uh—sit tight.”

She runs over to a trash can and comes back with a paper bag, just in time for me to shove my face into it and let out half the contents of my stomach.

“Pepper?”

It sounds like Jack, but that’s ridiculous. And in any case, round two follows up round one so quickly, it’s a miracle I’m still upright, with the amount of hot dog I’m presently upchucking. It’s volcanic, and so disgusting the mere act of throwing up makes me want to throw up, like some kind of vomit-ception. Pooja had the foresight at least to grab my hair before the worst of it, and I turn to give her some messy combination of a thank-you and an apology when I realize the hand holding my aforementioned hair back belongs to Jack.

What are you doing here? I almost ask, but then I clamp my mouth shut—I’m sure my breath smells like a hot dog funeral.

“Hey, put your phone down, you asshole,” Pooja yells.

I glance in the direction she’s shouting and see I have accumulated quite the audience. Landon, Ethan, Stephen, Shane—the whole drunken crew has stopped what they’re doing to stare, as have random people in the park.

The Pepper I was five minutes ago was so naive to think this day couldn’t get any worse.

I straighten up and manage to put the vomit-filled bag back in the garbage. Jack’s hand is on my elbow, following me like a shadow, and Pooja is charging forward and yelling at someone who must have taken a picture.

“Whoa,” says Landon lowly, coming up to me with a broad grin on his face. “Props, Pepper. Never would have guessed you’d be the first party foul, considering the size of the stick up your—”

Jack moves forward with his fist cocked, looking like a cartoon character. I yank him back by his elbow, and he’s surprisingly easy to pull, all momentum and lanky limbs.

“She’s not drunk, you dick.”

“Jack, it’s fine,” I mutter, pulling him back a little farther so he’s next to me. He gives in to the tug like a very angry noodle, but doesn’t look at me.

Landon’s expression can’t quite settle on irritated or amused. “Hey, man, chill out.”

“Seriously, Jack,” says Ethan, who has walked over to the commotion.

Jack scowls. “Really, Ethan?”

Ethan gestures vaguely, like he wants to apologize but his body doesn’t know how to commit to it.

“Nice,” Jack mutters.

Ethan sighs. “Shouldn’t someone get her home?”

“On it,” says Pooja. She hooks her arm into mine, and I feel a rush of gratitude so intense that for once, it doesn’t make me ache for my own sister—for once it feels like I have someone as unquestionably on my team as a person can get. She steers us away, flanking one side of me with Jack on the other, who is hovering like he walked into the wrong reality and needs directions to get back.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

“Yeah. I weirdly feel better now.”

“It was definitely that shady hot dog,” Pooja concurs.

“In that case, I hope Landon starts chucking some up soon too.”

“Why?”

Jack is in full Jack mode, his body like a live wire as he follows us.

“Jack, you don’t have to—I mean, I live like six blocks away.” I nod my head back at the edge of the park. “You can go hang out with the others.”

Jack hesitates. Out of the corner of my eye I can see his arm lift, can see him scratch the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s put on the spot. “Actually, I came to see you.”

Pooja ducks her head in an ineffective attempt to hide her smirk.

“Oh.” Something lifts in my chest. Thankfully this time it isn’t dinner. “Sorry to be a buzzkill.”

“Eh, I’ve seen worse,” says Jack.

I look over at him and he’s got this doofy kind of smile on his face, the kind that tricks me into thinking I look okay right now instead of the sweaty-browed, post-throw-up mess of a human I absolutely am. It’s stupid how relieved I am to see him, how glad I am he’s here. That he’s talking to me. That he crossed the whole length of this overcrowded island to do it.