Chapter 26 - I'll Be a Home for You

Chapter 26

so if i killed brad and ended up with a criminal record, would they still let me into stanford?

(fuck it, it’ll be worth it)

Aang

I wake up at five a.m., but for the first time in months, I don’t jump out of bed to practice Cantonese. Instead, I lie in bed inhaling the smell of JJ on my sheets.

I should have kissed her yesterday. I know, I know, she wanted me to kiss her. But I’ve never kissed anyone. I’ve never had a girl look at me and wait for me to kiss her. She wouldn’t have liked it, and my chances would have been ruined in a second.

But I don’t remember the last time I had a thought that didn’t start or end with her. When we walk down the corridor, I need to shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching out and holding hers. I constantly ponder a good place to take her for a first date. Although, technically, she would take us because I can’t drive, but that is neither here nor there.

It’s like freshman math all over again, that helpless feeling of trying to concentrate on the lesson instead of sneaking glances at her. But now, it’s dialed up to a thousand, and I can’t take it anymore. This want that presses against my sternum like a stone. It’s unbearable.

I slowly extract myself from bed and walk over to my closet, then sift through all my button-down shirts. I take out a dark-blue one.

I’m not a scrawny freshman anymore. I’ll put this shirt on, and I won’t drown in fabric. I can lift her. And hold her in the air. She sneaks glances at me when we watch a movie.

I can do it. I can tell her how I feel.

I speedwalk through the corridor to get to her locker before the first class of the day. I can’t help the goofy grin on my face. This is actually happening. I’m horrified, but it’ll be worth it. I’d rather have one honest moment than torture myself for a minute longer. Electricity’s buzzing in my veins, and I know I will actually do it.

I turn the corner and stop in my tracks.

She’s leaning against her locker. And in front of her is Brad. Giving her a flower.

Not just any flower. The same fucking flower I gave her freshman year.

I stumble back as the air is sucked out of my lungs worse than when she fell on me and I slammed into the ground. Are they back together? I turn around. She never mentioned anything. She never talks about Brad unless Remy asks about him.

Shit. Remy. How am I supposed to tell him about this?

I trip over something. A heart balloon? I look around. Lockers are decorated with pink hearts. My mom’s favorite song, “Lucky,” is playing over the intercom. Who’s in charge of this playlist? A fifty-year-old?

Wait.

It’s Valentine’s Day. 

My jaw sets. I was too much of a coward to do anything freshman year. Or yesterday. But today? If Brad wants her, he’ll have to fight me for her first.

Alone in the math classroom, I step back from the board to check out the equation I wrote.

(x² + y² − 1)³ = 3x²y³

My phone pings. I have four unanswered calls and ten messages from Remy. I’ve been avoiding him all day. If I see him, I’ll have to break the bad news. So I’m stalling. Because there will be no Brad-related news by the time Mathletes finishes.

The club starts in thirty-five minutes. She should be here soon. Since the first meeting, she’s always come early to stretch. At the beginning, I hated it but couldn’t look away. And now … I need to tell her she should do it anytime she has a chance.

Thirty-four minutes until Mathletes. She’ll be here any minute.

Thirty-three.

Twenty-one.

I’m overheating. I roll up the sleeves of my shirt.

Fourteen.

Ten.

I pace the classroom. Why isn’t she here yet? She’s always here early.

I stop, my right foot hovering in the air. What if the same thing as yesterday happened? I sweep my phone from the desk to text her, Bryn, and Monique. If something happened to JJ and they didn’t tell me—

The door creaks.

I turn around, and all my resolve disappears at the sight of the flower in her hand. She brought it to Mathletes? That’s probably where she was. She was with him. My hand strangles the phone.

She strolls up to me, and the equation on the board catches her attention. I dive for the desk to find the eraser before she tries to solve it. I sift through the papers. “Shit!” I hiss, clutching my finger. I got a paper cut.

I’ll erase it with my hand.

I whip around and find her even closer to the board. Her lips are moving, but that’s not an equation you can solve in your head. The flower is still in her hand. She turns to me. “What’s the equation for?”

“Nothing.” I push past her, but she grabs a marker.

I yank it out of her hand. She startles and drops the flower from her other hand. I fight the urge to stomp on the petals. Why did he have to give her that one? Why couldn’t it have been literally anything else? She picks up the flower gently. Like it’s the most precious thing in the fucking world. Resentment churns in my gut. “Happy for you and Brad again,” I spit out. It’s petty, but it’s all I have right now.

She frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw Brad giving that to you in the corridor.” I point to the flower. “Classic American high school love story, huh? What you’ve always wanted.”

She takes a step back. “You don’t know what I want.”

“I think I do.” I scoff. “You want your stupid American high school movie. You want Brad.”

She tightens her fists. “Brad and I are friends. But even if we weren’t, why would that bother you? Aren’t we friends? So what’s your problem now?”

I draw back like she punched me.

The door creaks again. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Georgie skips in. She drops her stuff on the table and looks at the board. “An equation! So cool. Can I solve it?” She grabs another marker.

JJ shoots me a glare before throwing herself into her regular seat in the front row. She bangs her head on the table three times, the flower still in her hand. I clench the marker and walk to the teacher’s desk. The room fills with the rest of the group.

“Got it!” Georgie steps back from the board. “When you graph it out, it makes a heart!”

JJ’s head shoots up, and I grab the schedule and hide behind it. Three weeks until Nationals, and we’re supposed to do logic questions today. Ugh. No way. I put the paper down. “We’ll do geometry today.”

“Again?” Drew raises his eyebrows. “We did that at the last meeting.”

JJ crosses her arms. “Today is logic questions day.”

I lock my jaw. “I think you’re mistaken.”

“I think I’m not.”

“Aang, at the last meeting, you said we’d be doing logic questions today! I wrote it down!” Georgie points to her notebook, which has so much ink covering it that it’s hard to see the white paper.

Oh god. If Georgie’s anything like freshman-year me, she has a verbatim transcript of everything I’ve ever said. I owe my old captain an apology. Maybe therapy.

I sigh. “You’re right, Georgie, it’s logic questions day.”

She cheers. Loudly.

Yup, definitely tracking the old captain down.

When I distribute the exercise sheets, Drew turns to JJ. “You got a Valentine for today?”

She shoots me a look. “I thought I did.”

What is that supposed to mean?

We’re nearing the end of the meeting, and I am infuriated by how well JJ’s doing.

I read out the last question of the day. “You’re on a game show with three doors. Behind one is a car, and the others hide goats. You pick a door, and the host opens another door to reveal a goat. Should you switch your choice?”

“Yes.”

Annoyance spikes in me. She’s right, but I don’t want her to be. “You sure about that?”

Hesitation flashes in her eyes. Guilt stabs at me, but before I can backtrack, her face hardens. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She stands up. “Give me the pen.”

That’s my girl.

I choke at the thought but cannot examine it any further, because she’s in front of me and trying to take the marker out of my hand. I wrap my fingers around it.

“What are you doing? Give me the pen,” she says.

“You don’t need a pen to solve this.”

“I think I do. The fact that you doubt my answer means I have to spell it out for you.” She tugs on the marker, but I’m not budging.

“There’s no need to spell anything out for me.”

“I must respectfully disagree. You have difficulty comprehending simple concepts.”

“I think I comprehend simple concepts pretty well.”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “The goat herself could tell you to switch the doors, and you’d still tell her No, let’s just be friends.”

“Well, the goat never told me to switch doors.”

“The goat was sending a clear message.” She rips the marker out of my hand.

“I’m confused.” Georgie leans sideways toward Drew. “How is that relevant to the question?”

“Oh, Georgie.” Drew doodles in his notebook. “They haven’t been talking about math since the beginning of this class.”

I scan the room. The group is staring at us, most with perplexed faces. My cheeks heat up, and I take a step away from JJ. “Sorry, guys. JJ’s really passionate about goats.”

She scoffs. “Really?”

The bell rings. Everyone packs up and leaves as quickly as possible. Drew shakes his head at us. “Maybe just kiss already? You’ve traumatized the freshmen.” He shuts the door on his way out.

My ears burn. I must have looked deranged, and that’s not a good look for a captain. And we haven’t actually solved the question.

JJ points the marker at me. “You should switch the doors. If you don’t switch, it’s a one-third chance. If you do, it’s two-thirds. The probability kicks in when you make the choice.”

She’s correct, but I’m not in the mood to agree with her. “The probability doesn’t kick in. Do I have to teach you middle school statistics?”

“I don’t know. Do I have to teach you primary school statistics?”

“I don’t know. Do I have to teach you kindergarten statistics?”

She throws her hands up. “You know perfectly well I’m correct. Why are you fighting me on this?”

“Are you sure you’re correct? Maybe your brain’s just busy thinking about Brad.”

“Oh my god.” She drops the marker and tugs on her hair. “Stop talking about Brad! I don’t like Brad!”

“Well, he clearly likes you if he’s giving you flowers for Valentine’s Day.” I cross my arms. “Let him down gently, okay?”

“That’s it.” She snatches the flower off her desk, then marches up to me and shoves it into my face. “You’re the one who established that a guy can give a girl flowers and still be her friend, aren’t you? Didn’t you give me flowers and, in the same breath, tell me we were friends?”

I take a step back and hit the teacher’s desk. “That’s not the same—”

“Why not? Why can’t Brad give me flowers without it being romantic, and you can?” She waves the flower in front of my face. The same kind of flower I spent two hours at the florist’s for, agonizing over whether it was the right shade of pink.

It’s like somebody has lit a flame in my bloodstream.

“Because it was romantic!” My voice echoes in the empty room. I take a step forward, and this time she steps back. “But I was a fourteen-year-old loser, and really, what did you expect me to do? Tell you I’ve fantasized about kissing you since the moment I saw you?”

“Yes!” she shouts. “And honestly? I didn’t even need words. You should have just pushed me against the locker and kissed me!”

“This isn’t one of your American high school movies!”

“Yeah, I thought it was going to be better!” She throws the flower at me. I don’t manage to catch it, and it falls on the floor. “This is for you, you idiot. Brad’s dad is a florist. Do you know how hard it is to find camellias last minute on Valentine’s Day?”

“What?” My brain is malfunctioning, my neurons scrambling to understand the words. Which has nothing to do with the fact that her accent reverted to Polish midway through the rant. “The flower is for me?” I take a step toward her.

“The flower is for you.” She takes a step back, heaving like she just went through a whole cheerleading routine.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.” I step forward.

“It is.” She steps back.

“Is it a friendly Valentine’s Day flower?”

“It most definitely is not.” She shakes her head, her back hitting the wall. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go, but it seems she’s exactly where she wants to be.

I cross the rest of the space between us. My sneakers graze hers. “It is not?”

“It is not.” She leans forward, her breath hot against my lips.

My shaky thumb slides down her jawline until I’m cradling her cheek. I need to remember every second of this. The curls escaping her ponytail, brushing my hand. Her dark-brown eyes, like a leather-bound book.

That should be only mine to read.

JJ puts her chin up. “Well, what now?”

“Can I kiss you?” I whisper.

“I swear if you don’t, I’ll—”

I crash my lips against hers. She gasps, and fireworks erupt behind my eyes.

Her hands immediately tug on my hair, bending my head, pulling me more into her, her vanilla scent waking up my every nerve. My right hand is still cupping her cheek, but the left one clutches her hip, pushing her harder into the wall. Her lips are burning, and when they open mine and our tongues meet, air becomes impossible to find, but breathing turns optional.

She’s kissing me like she’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.

My glasses are falling down my nose, and I’m getting a neck cramp from bending to her height. I start walking back, taking her with me, still kissing her, until I feel the first row of desks behind me. I spin us around and propel her onto one. Her mouth slides along my jaw down to my neck, and I—

The door swings open.

“Aaaaaaah!” Remy covers his face. “My eyes! My eyes!”

JJ pushes me away, but my palm is pressed against her shoulder blades, holding her in place. I’ve waited two and a half years, and she’s not getting away from me. Embarrassment doesn’t even register—I’m too far past that. Still standing between her legs, I turn my head toward Remy. “What are you doing here?” I huff out.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? Girl, you’ve been avoiding me the whole day, didn’t eat lunch with me, and didn’t respond to any of my texts! I thought you were dying!”

“Oh … sorry.” Thinking back on my plan, I can see some holes in it. I brush my hair off my forehead and slide my other hand from JJ’s back to her hip. “I’m fine.”

“I can see that! How long has this been going on?”

JJ and I exchange looks. “About five minutes?”

Remy clutches his chest. “In a math classroom?” He shivers in disgust. “I’m going to tell you the same thing my grandma told me when I came out to her.” He points between us. “Y’all need some Jesus.” He turns around.

“Bye, Remy,” JJ says.

“Sorry, I couldn’t see you from where you were swallowing my best friend’s neck.” He leaves and slams the door.

JJ leans against my chest, shoulders shaking. Her laughter ricochets through the classroom.

I prop her chin up, my fingertips registering the heat emanating from her skin. “I was a fan.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She giggles. I lean in again, but she dodges my lips. “Was this your first kiss?” she asks.

Panic flickers behind my ribs. Was I that bad at it?

“Yes?” My voice is strangled.

“Aww, your first kiss was in a math classroom.” She grins. “You’re such a nerd.”

“I hate you so much.” But my face hurts from smiling, so it must actually scream I like you so much, I like you so much, I like you so much …

“Hate me. Yeah, right.” She strokes my hair. “Want to kiss me again?”

“Frankly, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do with my life.”

She laughs, wrapping her hands around my neck.

And we kiss again.

And again.

And again.