The Apocalypse (37 page)

His mother's voice came from the kitchen, and Jake felt blood rush to his cheeks. Quickly, he made himself calm down; there was no way his mother could prove that he hadn't been cooking for himself. Screw the fact that he'd always said that he'd rather eat dirt than cook for himself; there was a first time for everything.

"Yeah, Mom?" Jake replied, making his way to the kitchen.

Diane was standing near the refrigerator, sipping from a bottle of water that she'd apparently just removed from the refrigerator. Her eyes scanned over her son momentarily. "You're not out with the guys?"

Carefully, Jake shook his head slowly. "Nah. I'm hanging out here today."

"By yourself?"

Jake shrugged. He couldn't lie to his mom; she could always see right through his lies. "I don't know."

"Uh-huh…" Diane drank from her bottle again, appearing thoughtful, which made Jake nervous. Nervous again? He'd never felt nervous so many times in one day before in his entire life. "Going to hang out with Isaac and Hannah?"

"Maybe."

There was almost a smirk forming on her face. "You and Hannah seem to be hanging out quite a lot recently."

Aha. The nervousness was proven justified; Jake had somehow known his mother was onto him about his sudden Hannah fixation. "Not really," he answered, trying to be nonchalant. "She just always seems to show up wherever I go."

There was no missing the way Diane rolled her eyes. "If you say so, Jake."

The tone of her voice was enough to make Jake even edgier; it was the tone she always used when she suspected that Jake was lying about something but couldn't figure out what there was to lie about—like the time he'd denied the fact that he actually enjoyed one of her favorite films.

Jake stole a glance at the clock. Hannah would be arriving within the next thirty minutes; somehow he hadn't considered that his mom would be home. "What are you doing today?"

Diane smiled faintly, almost sarcastically but sort of tiredly. "Working. I'm leaving in a minute." She finished her bottle of water and tossed it into the trashcan. "Afterwards, we're eating at Patricia's, and then she and I are watching
Steel Magnolias
." Jake wrinkled his nose at the women's tradition. Diane grinned back at him. "You should join us, Jake."

Scoffing, Jake asked dryly, "Does Julia Roberts still die at the end?"

"Yes," Diane answered snappishly, frowning. "And, yes, it still breaks my heart."

Jake rolled his eyes, ignoring the swat Diane aimed at his arm as she headed for the living room. Jake lingered in the doorway, watching her while she pulled on her coat and shoes. He sighed softly, wishing she didn't have to work so much.

"Bye, Jake," Diane called, opening the door. "Be good, and please don't burn down the house while I'm gone. Just go get fast food or something."

Amused, Jake gave a little laugh, imagining his mother's horrified face if he really did burn the house down while trying to make dinner. It wasn't something that took too much imagination to picture, honestly.

Then Jake found himself looking around the living room; he paced around slowly, assuring that the vicinity was tidy. He wasn't a neat freak or anything like that, but his nerves were forcing him to make sure that everything was perfect. In the back of his mind, he was still worrying about the movie choice, which seemed like such an insignificant thing to the front of his mind—where the weird multiple personality disorder wasn't as infectious.

Maybe he really should look into some kind of therapy.

A few moments later, Jake was back in the kitchen, rechecking his tater tots. They were still there, still fairly edible. Looking into the refrigerator, Jake made sure that there was plenty of ketchup and many drink choices for Hannah. Not that she was picky about much that went into her mouth, but Jake couldn't stifle the desire to make sure that everything would be to her liking.

What the hell was his problem?

To the best of Jake's knowledge, he'd never been so finicky about meeting up with a girl. Never had he ever been so nervous, and never would he ever over-think something as simple as a movie marathon in his own home. How many times had he gotten together with his friends to play hours of video games, obsess for hours over ESPN, or watch hours of
Star Wars
or
Rocky
or
James Bond
? The times could not even begun to be counted on ten hands, Jake was sure of that; this was not a big deal!

But then a flood of memories swept over his mind—occasions where he
had
been nervous and when he
had
obsessed over something as simple as a get-together. Of course, all of those occasions were in the early days of his relationship with Mercedes, way back when they'd first started getting to know each other, when they'd first started dating.

Jake was horror struck. If he was treating meetings with Hannah the same way that he'd treated meetings with Mercedes…what did that mean?

It meant that he was in some deep trouble. Of that he was certain.

Vibrations from his pocket rescued Jake from his realizations, preventing him the opportunity to accept reality. While fleeting disappointment from fear of Hannah cancelling on him flashed through Jake, he shoved that thought away and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, reading a text from Ethan quickly.

U think Hannah wld go to the mvies with me 2night?

Completely taken aback, Jake stared at his phone's screen. Something resembling guilt hammered into his stomach. How had he forgotten that Ethan, one of his best friends, was positively crazy about Hannah and had been for quite a long time? How could he be spending time with Hannah when he knew that Ethan would give away a few toes to be hanging out with her in Jake's place? Ethan had been one of Jake's best friends for longer than Jake could even remember, and he knew that Ethan would be more than a little upset if he found out that Jake was spending a lot of time with Hannah.

Would he believe me if I told him I was only doing it for her memory's sake?
Jake began questioning himself. Then another part of his mind was asking,
Could you lie to your best friend like that? Could you convincingly deny your feelings for her to him like that?
Disgusted, Jake smacked his palm against the kitchen counter, the loud noise of the smack echoing through the silent kitchen.

The guilt in Jake's stomach washed away, at least for the moment, as he reasoned with himself. Before Hannah had lost her memory, she wasn't interested in Ethan. After she'd lost her memory, she still wasn't interested in Ethan. Obviously, Ethan was not Hannah's type, no matter the situation. Therefore, if Jake was spending time with Hannah, he was not in any way interfering with things between Hannah and Ethan because there was nothing there to interfere with.

Except for Ethan's pursuit, of course, but wasn't that hopeless?

Before Jake could reason with that thought, he turned curious. Before Hannah had lost her memory, she wasn't interested in Jake. After she'd lost her memory, she was. Did that mean that
he
was her type? Or would he only be her type until her memory returned?

Was he sabotaging his chances with her by trying to help her get her memory back? Did he even want a chance with her? When had he started seeing Hannah as anything other than his enemy? Could he ever swallow his pride enough to admit that he just might possibly be attracted to her?

"Oh my God." Jake felt his eyes widen, not even caring that he was talking to himself. That was merely only further proof that he needed therapy of some sort. "I've officially lost my mind."

Jake shook his head, trying to shake his never-ending questions out. He really was over-thinking things—something that he only ever remembered doing when he was falling for Mercedes.

He was screwed.

More vibrations from his cell phone jerked Jake out of his mental attack, but he nearly groaned when he saw that Ethan was calling him. For sure, Jake was cursed. "Hello?" he answered, hoping the dread in his tone wasn't obvious to Ethan.

"Hey." Ethan sounded normal, although maybe a little bit pensive. "What's up, man?"

Jake closed his eyes, wincing at the lie that fell from his lips. "Nothing at all, Ethan. What are you doing?" Maybe his friend was going to ask him to hang out, meaning he'd have to cancel on Hannah. Not even the sanest region of Jake's mind could deny the disappointment he felt at the mere thought.

"Brent's over. We were just wondering what you were doing tod—ouch, damn it, Brent!"

It sounded as if Brent had thrown something at Ethan, which was not something rare. Jake half smiled, wondering what had prompted such a reaction from Brent. "Uh-huh. You guys doing anything exciting?"

"This is Vandalia," Ethan answered flatly. "Seriously, dude."

"Right, right…"

"Anyway, I was curious about Hannah," Ethan went on, sounding overly thoughtful—yet nowhere near as thoughtful as Jake had been. "Brent seems to think she's not into me." He scoffed, and his tone turned mocking. "Said something like nothing I do will change that."

Taking
a
seat at his kitchen table, Jake made a mental note to ask Brent about that conversation later. Even though it would mean some interrogation from Brent about Jake's own feelings, it sounded like Brent had information that would appeal greatly to Jake.

Ethan sighed. "You and Hannah can stand each other now, Jake. I figured maybe you could give me some advice. You think I should give it up?"

"Well…" Jake wasn't sure what to say. He figured mixing honesty with his bias was acceptable, as long as there was some legitimate honesty in there. "I don't know, man. Hannah's never seemed too interested. Isn't there anyone else you could go for? She might still be getting over that dumbass ex of hers."

A lengthy pause came from Ethan's end, during which Jake fidgeted in his chair, hoping he was letting his friend down gently, even though he knew he had no right to let Ethan down at all. Perhaps it was pompous of Jake to determine who could fight for Hannah's affection, but—

Oh shit.

Jake scowled at himself, letting the sanest part of his brain take back over. There was no way that he was fighting for Hannah's affection. He hated her, and that was that. Even if he didn't really hate her, he was going to keep hating her for hatred's sake, as little sense as that seemed to make. No one should let so many years of dislike evaporate just because the dislikeable member had gotten amnesia. That was pity! Jake would not pity Hannah.

But…he also would not encourage Ethan to like her. He never had, and he certainly wouldn't start now. No part of his mind could justify letting Ethan chase after Hannah—not the part that wanted to claim Hannah for his own or the part that wanted to hate her even more for confusing his emotions so badly.

"Brent told me that she didn't like me," Ethan said thoughtfully, "and you're telling me the same thing." He sighed, and Jake realized that he was holding his breath in anticipation of Ethan's thoughts. "Maybe you guys are right."

Relief washed through Jake as his doorbell rang. Hannah had arrived. Jake informed Ethan that someone was at his door but that he'd call him back—even though he didn't really plan on calling Ethan. The first thing on Jake's agenda was figuring out all of these senseless thoughts he kept having; only then could he deal with anything else.

"Hi," Hannah greeted brightly when Jake opened the front door for her. She stepped inside and removed her coat, revealing the navy blue t-shirt she wore with her gray sweatpants—sweatpants that Jake noticed were actually Isaac's basketball warm-ups. Jake wasn't sure if her apparent disinterest in dressing up came from her still feeling ill or her just wanting comfort; the fact that he wondered left him more baffled.

Jake smiled back at her. "Hey."

Seemingly at great ease, Hannah maneuvered to the couch and flopped down on it, curling her legs under her. She swept her hand out grandly to the television. "Entertain me, Jake."