Page 60 of Their Broken Tears
Chapter Twenty One
Jace
Our movie marathon lasted longer than expected, ditching out on school for a day and a half. After finishing the last in our lineup—Child’s Play—the original—at two in the morning, we skip our morning classes but arrive around lunchtime. The day’s mundane at best and coach is pissed that I didn’t show up to practice yesterday, feigning illness.
Jasmine doesn’t practice on Tuesday’s but she waits on the bleachers until I’m finished with mine. Typically, spreading out her homework, and popping in her AirPods.
“Hey, you ready?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” After gathering her work, we walk to my car.
“What’s this I keep hearing about, Andrew? Is Marisol trying to set you up with him?” I glance at her to gauge her reaction.
She shrugs. “Kind of.”
“Kind of? What does that mean? You can’t just tell me ‘kind of,’ and expect me to leave it at that.”
“I mean, she wants me to go to this dance. You know me, I don’t like dances or dressing up of any sort. So, for her to have free rein over my choice of dates, she’s in heaven.” The roll of her eyes is punctuated by her sarcastic laugh.
“Who’s she going with?”
Jasmine tilts her head like a puppy, curious, and inspecting. “Nobody yet. She wants to focus on me first.” Air quotes and another eye roll accompany the cynicism.
We’re silent the rest of the ride, each lost in our thoughts. Mine slideshows through the weekend, replaying every touch, kiss, every time my cock sank deep into her warmth. Fuck.
“What’s going on? What’s that look on your face?” Observant to a fault, this one.
Omitting the truth is slightly better than outright lying, so I give her a partial truth, instead of mentioning I want to fuck her friend again. “College, the team, Mare leaving next year, and this stupid dance.”
“You want to talk about it?” She leans over, as if she’s about to hear a secret.
“Senior year is coming quick and seeing the college this weekend is exciting. We’ll finally get away from home and live on our own.” Glancing at her, I see the hopeful smile stretch across her angelic face. “Their basketball team is strong. Plus, Mare’s going to attend there. We’d be together again. We could probably talk Alex into it, too.
Jasmine’s expression brightens. “That’d be nice. What about the dance? Are you thinking about going?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe. That’s what you’re giving me? Do you have a girl in mind?” Her brows bounce across her forehead.
“I have someone in mind.”
Jasmine leans back in her seat, studying my reaction. She’s too intuitive, tracking, and pinpointing each of my tells. “Jace, you like this girl?” When I don’t confirm or deny, she continues, “No bragging about your sexy fucking bitches.” She mimics my normal banter with laughter, carving up the imitation.
Guilt is literally eating a hole through my heart. I’m going to twin hell for lying to my sister. But I promised Mare I’d give her the week. Plus, I’d love backup when I tell her. Not for Jaz, but for me. I’m nervous as fuck to admit my feelings out loud to the world, to our friends and family. We’re changing the dynamic of every aspect of our lives with the announcement. “Yeah…” The word’s stretch with the lie, like a silver-tongued snake whipping out the reply.
The ringing of Jasmine’s phone saves the situation from digging deeper, the falsehoods stacking like bricks, building a solid wall that’ll wedge between us. The opportunity’s gone, for a moment I could’ve been honest. Even though Mare requested the week, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out, and we’re not even through the second day.
Exposing my beating bloody heart for those around us to dissect… or reject. The scenarios of Jasmine and Alex’s reactions have been haunting me since I agreed to keep silent. Deep down, I realize I’m exaggerating. They love us both. Sure, they’ll be annoyed, hurt that we hid our intentions, maybe even not speak to us for a while, but eventually, they’ll understand. Most likely, they’ll be completely okay with us, but that slight chance that Jaz or Alex will lose their shit has me worried and agreeing to delay the inevitable.
Jasmine’s whine pulls me into her conversation. “Tomorrow? Really, Mare?”
Marisol’s reply is muffled through the phone, only recognizable to Jasmine. “Okay, okay. Fine. After practice.” She hangs up the phone, rolling her eyes. “What have I gotten myself into?” She’s staring at the fabric roof, rubbing her temples.
“What now?” I direct a smile full of fun and games at her dramatics.
“Andrew, the primary candidate, is meeting us after practice to talk tomorrow, possibly to ask me to the dance. She swears he’s into me.”
Grinding my teeth, I ignore what I heard Andrew say earlier in the locker room.