I used to think we understood each other because of that. But now I’m not so sure I ever understood Garrett Tempest at all.
When we get back to the house, it’s practically lunch time. Everyone’s cars are lined up and I can smell the food out on the veranda wafting over to us. We make good time putting our food and supplies away before heading out onto the deck, to see the veranda has been decked out with twenties style black and gold accents. There’s a champagne fountain, a large table set with canapes and appetizers, and there’s a live band playing jazz. Everyone is tucked into their couches and chairs, and my dad and Rob are drinking and laughing.
“Well, if this is lunch, I hate to see what the dinner is like,” Jacob says beside me.
“It’s going to be ten times as tacky, because Garrett has no class,” I say bitterly.
I lead us to the table to grab something to eat, choosing a spot under the gazebo away from everyone else. But it seems that’s not enough because my mother finds a spot next to us.
“How’s the book coming?” she asks.
“What?” Jacob stiffens beside me.
“The book. Did Jackson figure out his feelings for Arthur yet? Have you worked out how you’re going to finish it?”
I blink, looking between them.
“The characters in my book,” he says, nudging me.
“Right, your contemporary gay romance.”“Um… I think we’re entering the third-act breakup, actually,” he says.
My mother’s eyes water. “Oh no! Why?”
Jacob shifts in his seat next to me. “Well, books have to follow a structure, right?” he says softly. “You can’t have a happy ever after without some strife. Something’s got to happen to keep you reading.”
She dismisses him with a wave.
“Not all books have to stick to the formula, Jacob. Sometimes it’s good to be different.”
He bristles. “Maybe. But readers like knowing what they’re getting before they get it. If they pick up a fake dating book, they know there will be miscommunication and a third act breakup where one realizes his feelings aren’t fake.”
He looks at his plate, his body tense.
“You okay?” I ask.
He turns to me, then my mother. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just uh… not feeling all that hungry.”
He gets up and moves away, and I glare at my mother.
“What the hell was that all about?” I bite at her as I get up to go after him.
“Nothing, I was just curious how his writing was going. We had a lovely discussion about it the other day and—”
“Maybe he hasn’t worked it all out yet,” I snap. “Did you ever think of that? Maybe he doesn't want to give away his whole story.”
My mother purses her lips.
“I was just making conversation, Aaron. Don’t get so defensive.”
“I’m not defensive, I—”
My mother offers me a smile.
“I think it’s lovely that you are. Shows you care.”
I glare at her.
“It’s nice, you know. Seeing you care about someone.”
