“No, you didn’t... I don’t know how to explain it.”
“That’s okay. I think I know what you mean.” He wraps a strand of my hair around his finger, and all at once, he looks thoughtful.
“What are you thinking?” I stroke his cheek gently.
I expect it to be about his parents, his sister, or Sam. But I’m wrong.
“Do you think Caleb still has a problem with us?”
I stiffen. Crap. I should have guessed he’d ask me about this sometime.
“No,” I answer honestly. “I talked to Caleb a few days ago. After you and I...” I can’t say it. I blush. “After we slept together,” I continue, before I can lose my nerve. “I had a talk with him. Caleb was the only one I could even talk to last year, and I... couldn’t help it. But no, he doesn’t have a problem with it.”
“But he had one last year.” It’s not a question but a statement. There’s no point in lying. It was pretty obvious that Caleb didn’t like it when Jase and I kissed at the party.
“Yes. But that’s all I can say about it.”
For a moment, it looks like Jase wants to argue. But then he nods, and a sad smile crosses his face. “I miss him.”
“I think he misses you too.”
“He always reminded me of Sam.”
I push a few strands of blond hair off his forehead, which immediately fall back into place. “In what way?” I ask carefully, because I have the feeling it would do Jase good to talk about Sam.
“He was the same type of person. Sam was a football player, like Caleb. And he had the same kind of self-confidence. The same openness. The same sense of humor.” I hear something wistful in his voice, and all at once there’s a big lump in my throat. “It might sound strange, but sometimes it seemed like fate put me next to Caleb in math class on purpose. As if the universe knew I needed a friend like him.”
I put my hands on either side of his face and pull him down to me for a quick kiss. “Maybe that’s what happened.”
“Yeah, maybe.” This time, his smile is a little less sad. “I’m pretty sure, actually.”
He kisses me again, and then we stop talking for a while.
* * *
I’m lying on Jase’s bare chest as it rises and falls gently. His breathing is calm, but his heart beats a little faster each time I run my fingers over his skin. I love that I’m the reason for it. Everything feels so simple right now. With his past and mine. There are no more secrets. Only shared truths.
When Jase’s stomach growls, I look up with a grin. “I think it’s breakfast time.”
“What time is it anyway?”
“I have no idea. My phone is still in my mom’s purse. But I think it’s time to get up.” I sit up, but Jase has other plans. His hand slides over the back of my neck, and I’m amazed at how such a simple touch can make my whole body tingle.
Laughing, I pull away from him before he can kiss me. “I know you’re hungry. Let’s go eat. If we’re lucky, Mom will have made pancakes.”
“All right.” He gives in with a sigh. “But only because your mom makes the best pancakes ever.”
I get up and pull him out of bed. I hope Mom really did make pancakes. I get clothes for him from Caleb’s room again, and we get dressed and go downstairs. An old ABBA song is playing in the kitchen, and I can hear Dad singing along quietly. I can’t help but smile. I stop in the doorway and watch with amusement as hedances around the kitchen. The dishwasher is open, and the smell of coffee fills the air.
Dad stops when he notices us. “Good morning,” he says, continuing to load the dishwasher. “Ceara made pancakes.” He points to the plate, which is under a lid on the kitchen island.
“Jackpot,” Jase whispers in my ear, grinning.
“With blueberries or chocolate chips?” I grab Jase’s hand and pull him over to the island.
“What do you think? Chocolate chips, of course.” I hear Mom’s amused voice from the living room. She’s sitting on the sofa, her legs up and a book in her hand.
“That’s what I hoped,” I say, lifting the lid off the plate. I grab two more plates from the cupboard and distribute the pancakes between them.
