His accent had been soft and mellow, wrapping around his words. I didn’t dream about Jake anymore, but when I used to, he always spoke in the voice I knew from middle school—not the one I heard on TV.
“Oh, that.” Jake cleared his throat. “The band’s publicistthought I was a little hard to understand in interviews, so she wanted me to talk slower and clearer so my accent wouldn’t slip through.”
Seriously? That’s nonsense. I never found him hard to understand.
“She wanted less Tex, more LAX in general,” Jake continued. “That’s why, when we debuted, she told the press I grew up in Los Angeles.” I felt a pang through my chest. It’s like Jake’s past with Somerset and The Tiny Tiger andmenever existed. “Marie was all for it too. She didn’t think a twang fit in with the bad boy image.”
“But you’re not in an interview now.”
“I guess I got used to talking like this,” he said with a shrug, seeming unbothered by this lost piece of himself. “My accent’s mostly faded now.”
Hmph. My favorite game used to be trying to get Jake to say words where his accent showed more without him knowing—likewindshieldorlibraryorcharcuterie. Though that last one was admittedly a challenge to slip into casual conversation.
I reached across to his side of the table, snagging the last piece of bacon before he could reach for it. “You ever get it back?”
“Sometimes, I guess? Like when I’m really tired. Or super excited or nervous about something and not paying attention to speaking a certain way.” Jake gave me a peculiar look. “Why are we talking about my accent?”
“Because your rap sheet isn’t really breakfast conversation.”
Jake snorted. “Rap sheet.”
“Right.” Who was I kidding? Jake didn’t have a rap sheet. I saw the way the cops were smiling at him after the fountain incident. And the graffiti one. “You probably just do the celebritything and autograph your way out of trouble.” Rolling my eyes, I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Were you really taking a joyride in Crystal Ashton’s Ferrari when you missed coming onstage after US won at the Artist Awards?”
“I’ll tell you what I told my manager: I was in the bathroom.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Whatever. Here,” Jake said, pushing a tiny silver cup across the table toward me without making eye contact.
“Uh...” I stared down at this bizarre peace offering. “Is this maple syrup?”
“Yeah. I saved it for you.”
Frowning down at it in confusion, I asked, “Why?”
“Because you always pour some with cream in your coffee.”
“That old habit’s long gone,” I told him. “I haven’t done that since the second semester of freshman year.”
“Oh,” Jake said, looking lost. He didn’t have an exact map to me anymore like he used to—he’d entered uncharted territory.
And he’d just plunged into Snarky, Shark-Infested Waters.
“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think you’re the only one who gets to turn into someone else?”
Jake raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of me.
“Someone else?” he questioned, deadpan. As if he didn’t leave with button-downs and a sweet disposition and turn into some kind of heart-wrecking pop star–frat boy crossover.
“Never mind. You can have this,” I said, pushing the maple syrup back to his side of the table, then retracting my hand. “Or not. You weren’t crazy about it when I made some in the café for you to try that one time, were you?”
Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he glanced down at the maple syrup, opening his mouth and then closing it.
“Forget about it,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.” I glanced around the nook. “This place hasn’t changed since we were last here.” Jake and I mostly hung out in the café, but I visited him here a few times and had listened to him play the rickety piano in the corner of the party room. “The carpet and the wallpaper’s got to be at least as old as my mom.”
“Yeah. You know, it’s funny,” Jake said, looking around too. “I thought the motel might look just a little bit different four years later. Places in LA are always renovating to be trendy, but...” He glanced over at the faded wallpaper, then down at the ugly blue carpet beneath his black boots. “Everything here’s the same.”
“Unlike you,” I said, before I could help myself.
