The Ugly Stepsister Strikes Back (8 page)

3:32. That was it. I was done with him. I didn't care how cute he was.

At 3:33 I started the movie. Screw Jake Kingston.

Four and a half minutes later, the doorbell rang. My heart leapt in my throat, and I hit pause on the DVD. Had I hallucinated the sound? It was entirely possible. I held completely still.

No, I hadn't imagined it. The doorbell rang again.

I jumped over the back of the couch, running for the front door. When I got there, I made myself stop and calm down. The bell rang for the third time just as I threw the door open.

"Hey," he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn't trust myself to say anything, so I stepped back and held the door open.

But instead of coming inside, Jake stood on the porch, hovering.

"Are you like a vampire that I have to invite in first?" I snapped.

Jake looked at the ground and cleared his throat. "Before I come in, I need to apologize for yesterday. I had a….conversation with my dad that…" He left the words hanging in the air. "Well, it ended up with him threatening to not pay for college."

"So, not a good day."

His glance flicked back up to me and I sort of wanted to fall over given the intensity in his eyes and the way he looked at me. "No. Not a good day. And I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I know I was a jerk. And I shouldn't have tried to get you to do the project by yourself today. I've never done anything like that before. I don't know what came over me."

Jake meant it. I could see the sincerity in his eyes, hear it in his voice. And just like that, all the anger whooshed out of my body in one great tidal wave. It amazed me how quickly I could go from being mad to loving Jake again. I had thought I was better at holding grudges than that.

I knew I should make him suffer for it a little longer. But instead I said, "Apology accepted."

"Just like that?" A hint of a smile lingered around the corners of his mouth.

"I'm not going to make you grovel for forgiveness or anything. I talked to my mother last night and she spent most of the time telling me how much I disappoint her, so I sort of get it." There had to be lots of leeway and forgiveness as far as parents were concerned.

"Cool."

"So, I'll invite you in as long as you promise not to bite me and turn me into a vampire."

"If I was a vampire, there's no way I'd still be in high school," he said as he came in and brushed past me. I suddenly felt all giggly and girly, which was a completely foreign feeling. If I started twirling my hair, I was going to have Trent shoot me.

"Um, the movie's in here." He followed me into our entertainment room and sat down on the couch. I picked up the remote and started the DVD back up. I suddenly felt an overwhelming anxiety that made it almost impossible to speak. Jake Kingston was lounging on my couch, his feet up on my coffee table.

And we were totally and completely alone.

I needed an excuse to leave the room so that I could try and compose myself. "Do you want anything? Soda or popcorn?"

"That'd be great," Jake smiled that toe-curling smile at me and I again wanted to swoon.

Instead I threw an Orville Redenbacher in the microwave and grabbed some drinks from the fridge. Deep breaths, deep breaths. In and out, I reminded myself. I could do this. I could talk to Jake and be normal and find out if we could have a civil conversation where he was not trying to take advantage of me. Like the flake that I was apparently turning out to be, my nerves jumped from frantic anxiety to frantic excitement. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to get back to Jake. I willed the popcorn to pop faster. Every minute I was in the kitchen was a minute I was away from him.

The microwave beeped and I nearly broke the door by flinging it open so hard. I ripped the bag open, practically burning off my face. I emptied the popcorn into a bowl and took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing
, I thought.

While the popcorn had been popping, my stomach had been growling with hunger. But as soon as I sat down on the couch next to Jake, probably much closer than was necessary if he had any personal space issues, I didn't feel hungry. Or thirsty.

Jake didn't have the same problem. He thanked me and ate most of the popcorn in the first five minutes. Which was good, because the awkwardness between us was so tangible it was like we had another person hanging out with us. Maybe I should ask Awkward if it wanted to go to the masquerade ball with me since lately we seemed to be spending so much time together.

But as the movie went on, it started feeling normal. Not awkward. Comfortable, almost. I mean, I was still totally aware of him, of the heat that seemed to emanate from his arm and leg and how it made my leg and arm feel all tingly in response, how every time he shifted I held my breath for a second and had to will my heart to slow down.

Then, as always, I got totally caught up in
Pride and Prejudice
. Mr. Darcy was walking across the field toward Elizabeth Bennet. So romantic. It was one of my favorite scenes.

Jake started laughing. "He's not coming for you, you know."

I realized that I had moved forward so that I was sitting on the edge of the couch, and I was leaning toward the television. Embarrassed, I replied. "Obviously." I scooted back and crossed my arms.

"Stuff like that never happens in real life," he informed me.

I didn't know what to say in response that wouldn't make me sound like a total sentimental sap. I have this huge thing for romantic movies and their heroes. I would never admit that I couldn't help but get caught up in scenes like that one. I mean, there was Darcy all masculine and hot, striding toward her, coming to claim her. It made my heart all twittery.

The movie finished with the requisite happy ending and I caught myself before I finished sighing. Jake raised a single eyebrow at me and I said, "What? I can't help it. I like romantic movies."

"So, if I'm getting this right, you can basically sum this movie up in," he paused to count in his head, "Nine words."

"Nine words?" I scoffed as I turned the TV off.

"Yeah." He held up his fingers and started counting off the words. "He likes her. She likes him. They find out."

Hearing one of my favorite stories broken down like that made it seem silly. "You just missed the point completely," I felt totally defensive. "There is so much more to it than that."

"Like what?" he asked.

I was going to tell him exactly what, but he chose that moment to stand up and stretch. His muscles strained against his shirt and my mind turned to mush. He looked at me and I realized he was waiting for an answer to his question, but in that moment I couldn't have even told him my name.

"I don't know, but it hasn't been around for two hundred years without there being more stuff to it." I picked up some popcorn that had fallen on the floor and put it back in the bowl while Jake wandered over to our movie collection (my dad loved collecting DVDs and Blu-Rays even though he never, ever watched them).

"I know you think it's lame, but isn't that kind of the basis of all romantic stories? They like each other and then they find out?"

"That's why action movies are better," Jake said as I put the empty soda cans into the bowl.

"Yes, I suppose romantic movies aren't as subtly nuanced a plot as say, things blowing up and bad guys getting killed."

"You just described fine art," he said with a teasing glint in his eye. His fingers trailed through across the DVD cases and he said, "You weren't kidding about the romantic movie thing. Somebody likes John Hughes."

Not many people could name John Hughes as the director of movies like
The Breakfast Club
and
Pretty in Pink
. I was impressed. "Um, yeah. That would be me. Although that man totally ruined high school for me."

"Not like the movies, huh?"

"Not in the slightest, unfortunately."

He held up a copy of one of my favorite movies,
Sixteen Candles
, and said, "My mom's a huge fan of John Hughes too. She actually named me after the guy in this movie."

"Jake Ryan?"

"That's literally my name. Don't wear it out."

I thought my throat might close in. "Your middle name is Ryan?" My voice came out strangled sounding. He nodded.

How did I not know this? Jake Ryan of
Sixteen Candles
was like the perfect man. And my Jake was named after him. Oh my Buddha, I loved him even more now. I knew it was a stupid reason to love him more. I was constantly amazed by the depths of my own shallowness. Wait. Could a shallow person have depths? Whatever. He was named for Jake Ryan. Loved him!

"My dad was mad when he found out, but by then it was too late. I tried to watch it once but…" he shrugged and put the DVD back on the shelf.

I found my voice. "Are you serious? That has like only the most romantic ending of a movie ever."

He looked at me like I had grown another head.

"That scene at the end where they're sitting on his table and he has that cake for her because everyone forgot her birthday and he tells her make a wish and she said it already came true and they kiss," I said that entire thing in one breath and was starting to feel a little lightheaded. I took in a very deep, very needed breath. "Most. Romantic. Thing. Ever." I emphasized the last word so that he would know to not further malign the most perfect teen romance movie in the world.

"Whatever you say," he smiled and he looked around the room. "Hey, is that a poker table?"

I turned and saw that my dad had set up his table in the den for game night with his buddies. Sometimes I played, too. "Yeah, it's my dad's." Poker was another one of the rare things that could lure him out of his studio.

"You play?"

"A little."

"Want to?" Jake asked as he started walking backward toward the table. "We could play strip poker," he teased.

Chapter 9

I gave him A Look to let him know just what I thought of his little proposition. He laughed. I didn't know it was possible to be both simultaneously disgusted by his suggestion and a little thrilled by the prospect of a shirtless Jake.

"You any good?" he asked, interrupting my visual.

"I'm all right, I guess."

I was actually a lot better than okay. I had been playing since I could hold the cards myself. But like good old Dad taught me, never tip your hand.

"We could play and talk about the project," Jake offered. He sat down in one of the chairs and picked up the deck. "Tell me about the idea you had. You said you wanted to draw manga?"

"Yeah," I said. "You shuffle and I'll get my sketchbook to show you what I'm talking about."

I ran to my room and grabbed the book off of my bed before I came to a complete stop. This was my sketchbook that had all my recent manga, but the entire first section was dedicated to pictures of Jake. Not manga pictures, but actual sketches of him. This could be mortifying. But I couldn't come back empty handed. I opened a desk drawer and pulled out some Scotch tape. I ran a piece of tape from the cover to the last Jake picture. He might ask questions, but hopefully I could play it off.

When I got back to the den, he was counting out poker chips evenly between us. He stopped what he was doing when I put my book on the table. I opened it for him. I stepped back with my hands balled up into fists, my knuckles turning white. This was easily one of the scariest things that I had ever done. I didn't know why this didn't occur to me before I went skipping off to grab my sketchbook. It was like I wanted to share this part of myself with him, but it scared me to death to think that he might laugh at me.

He flipped through several pages before glancing up at me. "You okay?"

"I've never showed this to anyone before." I hoped he didn't hear how my voice trembled.

An expression I couldn't describe crossed Jake's face. "These are really good. Is this Ms. Rathbone?"

I nodded, and he chuckled. I needed to explain. "That was sort of my idea—to turn the Bennet sisters into these samurai warriors in feudal Japan."

"Like those crazy nuns out for revenge in that one series?"

"You mean
Y+M
?" I asked in total shock.

"Yeah," he nodded. The entire universe shifted on its axis. Jake knew about manga. How did he know about manga? I couldn't process.

"So, you really like my drawings?" It was just this side of ridiculous how invested I was in his answer. I so badly wanted him to like them.

He closed my sketchbook. "I mean, you're no Masashi Kishimoto, but they're still really good."

"You like Kishimoto?"

He smiled at my shock. "Yeah,
Naruto
is one of my favorites."

My mouth dropped open. I loved
Naruto
too. He wasn't just blowing smoke like that time in eighth grade at Julie Hansen's party where I pretended to know about NASCAR so Mike Reed would talk to me. My mind reeled at the reality that Jake Freaking Kingston liked manga.

"Your parents must be really excited to have their daughter following in their footsteps."

Since my world had gone totally off kilter at the idea that Jake knew and liked manga, I wasn't in any position to try and explain my parents to him. "Not quite. My parents would probably be greatly disappointed that I drew manga. So, I haven't exactly shown them any of my pictures. And I don't plan to, ever."

"Understandable. What's this?" Jake fingered the piece of tape and started to pull on it. I came out of my shocked haze and practically leapt on top of the sketchbook.

"N-nothing," I stuttered. We had things in common. We could possibly get along very well. He could fall in love with me, even. The absolute last thing I needed was for him to get a look at the depth of my craziness.

I put the book under my chair and sat down, careful to keep my feet on top of it. No way could I ever let him see those pictures of him. Jake shrugged it off, shuffled the deck and started dealing. "Just basic poker then, right?"