I have a feeling we’re more likely destined to be friends. And I could use some more friends right now.
CHAPTER ONE
Jenna
EIGHT AND A HALF YEARS LATER
What the hell did I just read?
The letter feels strange in my hand as I flip it over, checking for a “just kidding” reference while pretending I can ignore the throbbing between my legs.
Jack’s hinted at this side of himself. But the hints were so goddamn subtle I assumed I was imagining them. Wishful thinking on my part.
But this?
It’s something straight out of a romance novel.
And I’m struggling to focus.
After meeting at the hockey team's Fourth of July party, Jack and I became close friends. Some would say we were inseparable for the following few months. But it was purely platonic. Jack’s someone you file under the “too innocent for his good looks”category, and I wasn’t going to be the one to corrupt him. As fun as that would have been.
He meant more to me than that. I liked having a male friend that didn’t want to immediately get in my pants.
There were times I felt like he was the only one that truly knew me. Even my friendship with Penelope wasn’t as deep, and I thought we told each other everything. Only I never opened up the way I did with Jack.
Life was good.
Until it all came to an abrupt end. Jack’s time in the US ran short, and before I could process, he was on a flight back to Australia.
I can still remember our last conversation. I thought he was bullshitting me.
“I promise I’m not lying.” Jack laughs as he speaks. “My coach needs me back there.”
“That’s what I’m not buying. If you’d said your family needs you…maybe I’d believe it.”
“Fine. My family needs me.” He bites back a smirk and I’m less convinced he’s telling the truth. “Can I have your number? So we can keep in touch when I’mreallygone?”
“Nope.” I bite back a smile of my own. “You can have my address. I’ll await your letters on the holidays.”
Jack snorts but there’s something about his expression that gives me pause.
“I’m happy to write you letters, Jenna. But I really am leaving.” His smile softens before his face drops, and for the first time since he came barging into my room, announcing that he had to go home, my chest tightens.
“Riiight,” I joke but my tone lacks humor. “You’re leaving?”
“I am.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably be back next semester.” That’s not too long.
“Okay, great. I guess you can have my number then.” I reach for my phone until Jack stills my hand.
“I kind of like the letter idea.”
“You what?” I laugh under my breath.
“How about I write to you for your Thanksgiving? Then you write back for Christmas.”
