Ascent Chapter 6

The next morning, I'm sore from overworking my muscles during the game. I don't care either, because Brendon calls me once again in the middle of work to arrange our date. He makes me laugh with the way he has a hushed tone, especially when he starts to sing his own version of a spy theme like he's sneaking around.

He tells me his boss is standing at Jared's desk, but because he's a rebel he's calling me anyway. I'm just waiting for him to tell me he lost his job.

Maybe because he writes so beautifully they won't let him go. That's what I'm hoping, at least.

A few days pass like this, until it's time for us to have our date.

I spend an hour on my outfit again, checking the weather multiple times to make sure the warmer temperature is correct. Fall is so odd. Some days it's cold, some days it's warm. I pick my favorite shorts and T-shirt and arrange them with other accessories artfully, but I stick to a braid for my hair this time. Brendon seems like he admires my appearance just as much when I open the door, so I decide it isn't necessary to do something fancy most of the time.

He drives us to the outdoor mall, catching up with me on what's been happening the past few days, which hasn't been a lot. Maggie and Jason haven't called me again since I gave them the designs, but they haven't asked me to send them to the printing office either. That's a bad sign.

Brendon and I settle into a booth at a quaint pizza place to eat as he tells me more jokes.

"What did the pizza say when his girlfriend left him?"

"I feel like I'm going to hate you after you say this."

"I'm so pepperlonely."

"Yep. I hate you. I can see why you're lonely, telling jokes like that."

He sulks, pushing away my hand when I go to ruffle his hair.

"You're such a fun ruiner," he complains.

"That's because you tell dad jokes."

"Dad jokes are the root of all good humor."

"Uh huh."

"Wait, wait, I've got one more. What did the hair styling tool say to the-"

"Brendon, I will find some duct tape. Stop it."

My words are harsh, but I think he knows I'm only teasing. Mostly.

We finish our lunch as he disregards my threat, and I can't say that I mind. The puns are always stupid, but they make me laugh nonetheless. They're just so bad that they're funny.

My heart is light as we step back outside, and he interlocks our fingers. His hands are warm and soft. I missed the feeling when he was gone.

Which is ridiculous, as it's only been a few days. To be honest, I don't care. It's an absurd amount of fun going on dates with Brendon, and it's like the past week has been magical. This isn't going the way all of the others have. I already have a sense of security with the dark-haired man. He makes me laugh, and I always feel giddy when I'm with him. I guess I could just be in the crush phase, but it seems different.

My date tugs me along through the street, stopping along the sidewalk fountain in the center of the mall. Little kids run by, chasing and splashing each other.

Brendon takes off his shoes and socks.

"Come on," he urges.

"What? What do you want to do?"

"Come get your feet wet with me. It's warm out. Don't you want to play in the water?"

"Isn't there an age limit to this?"

"No. That would be silly."

"Oh, yes. I'm the one being silly."

"Jenna, please?" he whines, attempting to pull me in.

"I don't want to get soaked."

"You won't, don't worry. Just splash around a little."

When I don't move, he dips down to cup water into his hand. He flings it at me before I can understand what he's doing. I shriek as it hits my bare legs.

"You said I wouldn't get wet! You're paying for that one."

I strip off my shoes and socks as well, chasing after him. I manage to corner him by the water wall, and I push his head against it. He sulks when he frees himself from my grasp, pushing back his now wet hair from his face.

"I feel that was too much of a retaliation," he says.

"I don't. You started it."

"You're a horrible person."

I giggle, and he smiles in response.

Now that I'm used to the water, I have to admit it's kind of fun. I haven't splashed around in years. There's something inexplicably enjoyable about revisiting the childhood activity. Brendon makes it seem acceptable to do such a thing. I like that he doesn't mind what society thinks.

Since I'm now in a playful mood, I allow him to pull me into the world of our imagination. We walk along the wet ground, making up games. We pretend the porcelain frogs placed on the sidewalk for seating parents that didn't want to get in the water are rocks in a lava pool. We hop along them, laughing as the people around us give us strange looks. They're no fun.

Brendon holds my hand as we come together on the frogs, helping me jump to his side.

My foot is still wet when I go to step on his platform, and I slip.

He catches my wrist before I drop, but it only slows the fall enough it doesn't hurt.

I make gurgling noises as if I'm dying.

"Jenna! Are you okay?" he asks, frantic.

"The lava's got me now," I rasp. "You have to let go. I'm a goner."

He laughs, catching on that I'm continuing the game.

"But I can't! I told you, no man left behind! I mean woman!"

"My legs are burnt, I'm unable to continue. You have . . . to save . . . yourself."

I let go of his hand in a dramatic fashion, sinking down behind the frog.

"No!" he screeches to the sky, feigning grief. "Why? Why God? How could you do this to me? She was so young! She was supposed to live! Not me!"

Our laughter draws more attention, but I don't care as I join him on his perch.

We bask in the sunlight together, hands intertwined.

We are reluctant when we return to our shoes, but our feet are getting cold.

Still, Brendon slips his hand around mine as we continue to walk. That makes up for it.

"Let me tell you a real joke," I offer, smiling when he squeezes my hand.

"Pssh. I doubt it'll be funnier than mine, but go ahead."

"So a lady walks into a bar-"

I'm interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

My lip almost curls as he retracts his hand to pull the device out of his pocket. This is supposed to be our date.

I push aside the jealously as Brendon smiles at me, sheepish. He didn't plan for it to happen, Jenna. It just did. It'll probably only be for a few minutes.

"Hold that thought," he requests, picking up the phone with a worried look.

"What's wrong?" he asks as he steps a few feet away.

I wish he'd go further so I couldn't hear him. He obviously doesn't understand the capabilities of human hearing.

"Well, something must be wrong or you wouldn't be calling me," he says. "What? What do you mean? That's what you're calling me for? Honey, come on. I can't do everything for you. Are we out of them? Look by your bed, they're always there. Where am I? I'm, uh, I'm just on a break at work. Yeah, my business meeting is still going on, we're taking a recess. I'll be back before it's dark. Yeah. See you at home."

Excuse me? See you at home?

I thought he lived alone.

No, wait. He never said that. He could live with his brother or dad. But I wouldn't call either of those people honey. And I certainly wouldn't lie about being on a date with someone to them. What is going on?

"Who was that?" I ask as he hangs up and makes his way back to me.

I'm trying to make sense of the situation.

"Just a friend," he dismisses, reaching for my hand again.

He sounds nervous as he answers, and he avoids my questioning gaze.

The idea of him cheating invades my mind again.

No, Jenna. Don't. He wouldn't, he's not like that. Right?

But it makes sense. The stuffed animal and feminine products that day at the grocery store. The phone call when he had to go home for his "sweetheart." Now his lying about our date and another pet name. The time he rejected my idea to go to his apartment fits into place too. He wouldn't want me to show up where the other girl is. She obviously doesn't know. Neither did I.

My breath hitches, and I can feel something terrible spread across my heart. Pain and doubt starts to creep in, seeping through to the place it'll hurt the most. I've felt this before.

But this also doesn't make sense. Why has he been going at a slower pace? Why he would wait for a good moment to kiss me? In most cases I imagine he'd already be trying to get us to sleep together if he was cheating. Or is that not how this works?

The better question is why. Have I done something wrong? What would make him move on? Is it that I'm not open to letting people in? Or is it something more related to the fact we haven't even kissed? That's not my fault though. What happened with the last guy who did this? He never told me.

"Brendon, tell me something," I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

I pull my hand from his so I don't give anything away.

"Okay. What?"

"Are we moving too slow for you? Is there something you're dissatisfied with in our relationship?"

Is this even considered cheating? We've only been dating a week, and we never explicitly said we were exclusive. Oh my god. I should have thought of that.

Stay calm, Jenna. Give him a chance to explain. Maybe it really is something you did. Wait, no. There's no excuse for cheating, right? I'm starting to wonder, since this is the third time.

"What are you talking about?" he asks. "Are we moving too slow? Am I . . . not satisfied?"

I just nod, focusing on keeping my breathing steady.

"No, everything's fine," he replies, sounding lost. "There's nothing wrong. What brought this on? Is something the matter?"

He looks confused. I'm not sure if he's acting or not. Maybe he's a better liar than I thought. He sure fooled me with the shy act. The "I don't have another girlfriend" act. How could I have been so stupid? I knew something had to be wrong. I should have listened to my head and not my heart.

"Is there anything you want to tell me then?" I ask, still hiding my emotions.

I can at least see if he'll be honest and tell me. I think I deserve that.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," he replies. "What would I tell you?"

I have to clench my fists to stop from crying, digging my fingernails into my palms to distract myself.

So it's not me, but he doesn't want to admit he's dating someone else. A person there before me. I'm the one being cheated with. I almost hate myself, having been on the other side. I should have known the last week was too good to be true. Nobody has magic like that in their lives anymore. The person in front of me is just like the guy I dated in high school who cheated on me, and the one after that. I thought they were nice in the beginning too.

"Jenna?" Brendon calls, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Who were you talking to on the phone?" I ask again. "Is it the same person that called you when we played soccer? The one that needed you to come home right away after she checked the bed?"

"You were listening to my phone call? Did you do that to this one too?"

He sounds like I've betrayed him. I can't believe it.

"It's kind of hard not to when you're standing five feet away," I growl. "So, was it her?"

I want him to say it. I feel I should be told the truth. He's going to admit it even if I have to pry it out of him.

"Like I said, it was a friend," he answers, looking defensive. "Since when are you so interested in who I'm talking to?"

His words only reaffirm he's purposely not telling me something.

"Since you're on the phone with them during our date, that's when," I snap. "I'll ask again. Who were you talking to, Brendon?"

He frowns, crossing his arms.

"I don't think I like your tone," he says, irritation seeping into his voice. "Are you saying I'm not allowed to speak to other people when I'm with you?"

"I'm saying that you should just tell me what's going on," I hiss. "Are you hiding something?"

I know I sound crazy. Like that jealous girlfriend who puts a microchip in their boyfriend's phone so they can track them. I know I'm being irrational with this situation. But all I can think about is how much this already hurts and he hasn't even told me yet. This is why I don't date a lot of people.

I made a promise to myself after my dad died to not let anyone ever be that close to me again. Eric just barely made the cutoff, except he wouldn't leave me alone so he now occupies a cozy corner in my right ventricle. But this situation is exactly why I have that rule.

A sharp pain lances through my heart when I breathe in, and I have to repress even more tears.

"Okay, that's it," Brendon snaps. "I don't know whatever weird thing is going on with you, Jenna, but stop it. I'm not hiding anything."

"Nothing weird is going on!" I shout, my voice finally matching my feelings. "I just asked you a question!"

People give me strange looks as I explode, hurrying past when I glare at them.

Brendon raises an eyebrow at me, like he thinks I'm being ridiculous. But there's a nervous look in his eyes that reassures me something isn't right.

"And as I've told you multiple times, it was my friend. I'm just as entitled to having friends as you. Sometimes they call me. Eric calls you."

"I don't talk to him when I'm on dates with you! We agreed no distractions this time!" I hiss, not sure what else I can say.

I hate the how he doesn't see where I'm coming from, the way a condescending look appears on his face.

"It only took a few minutes. You're really upset about that?"

"Yes!"

"Jenna, you're acting childish."

"Well I'd rather be childish than be cheating!"

I hadn't meant to say the words outright like that. They just tumbled from my mouth. But they're out there now, even though I wish with all my heart they weren't.

Brendon's expression fills me with the urge to hide under a rock and never leave.

"Cheating?" he asks, and his voice makes me curl up inside of myself. "Is that what you think? That I'm cheating on you?"

I turn away, not strong enough to do this anymore without breaking down. I just want to go home and bury myself in my blankets. I don't care if I have to walk there, I'm not spending another moment in this man's presence.

My cheeks heat up in embarrassment as I leave. I'm so pathetic to be this upset. I should never have let my guard down, no matter how kind Brendon seemed.

He catches me not even five minutes later in an alley near the edge of the mall, his hand springing out to capture mine.

"Don't you dare run away," he growls.

"Let me go!" I shout, trying to jerk away.

"No! We're not done talking about this. Look at me!"

He pulls me back, using his arms to turn me around.

He seems astonished as he scrutinizes my face. Hot tears cascade down my cheeks, I can feel them, and I'm ashamed to have shown him my moment of weakness. He doesn't deserve to see me cry.

"Jenna?" he asks, quiet.

He lifts a hand to wipe them away, but I knock it back with an angry swat.

"Don't touch me!" I yell. "Just get off me! I'm going home."

I wish he didn't know where I lived.

His eyes become stony again, his grip not loosening.

I struggle against his hold, but it doesn't get me anywhere.

"I said let me-"

"I can't believe you think I'm cheating on you," he interrupts, incredulous.

"Just go home to your little girlfriend, okay? I'm not going to be part of this. If she knew any better she wouldn't either."

I try to break away again, but Brendon's arms are like a cage.

"Home to my girlfriend?" he asks, confused.

Then something clicks, a look of realization appearing on his face.

"Oh, you think . . . but that's-"

He is not about to use some sort of excuse with me.

"Don't you dare use the 'it's not what you think' line! Just leave me alone!"

I shove him, the jolt of the impact shaking him off me. I only make it a few long strides before he's got my wrist again.

"Brendon-"

"Shut up," he seethes. "Don't say another word."

I almost recoil at his tone, barely holding back the flinch when I see the fire in his eyes.

"You're following me to my apartment," he orders, dragging me along. "I obviously need to show you something I should have a long time ago."

I tug at my wrist, trying to escape his grasp. His tight hold doesn't hurt, but it's proving difficult to escape from.

He whips around when I start to protest, invading my personal space. His breath is against my face he's so close.

"Do you remember when we met again at the grocery store?" he asks, a blazing inferno still in his eyes. "You kidnapped me and took me outside to prove you weren't dating Eric. I let you do that. So you're going to let me prove to you I'm not cheating."

He drags me again until we stop at his car in the parking lot. He uses his other hand to open the door. He lets go of me to gesture to the passenger seat, but still blocks my exit.

"Get in the car, Jenna."

"No," I reply, defiant.

"Get. In. The. Car."

Seeing no other real option besides calling the police for kidnapping, I slump into the seat. So much for liking this car. Brendon closes the door. Slams it, actually.

He walks around the vehicle to get to the other side. The idea to make a break for it passes through my mind, but I dismiss it. He'd catch me before I could get anywhere and then he'd be even angrier.

I don't say anything to him on the ride to his house. If he's going to hold me against my will, he doesn't deserve my words.

He pulls up to his building, turning off the engine and getting out.

When he comes around and opens my door, I don't move. I'm not going to make this easier for him. I don't want to hear whatever his explanation for being with two people is anymore.

"Out," he barks.

"Why?" I ask, snarling. "What are you going to show me, huh? Fancy lingerie sets so both of your girls can match?"

I regret the snarky question when something livid sparks in his eyes. Why is he so upset? Isn't that supposed to be my thing in this situation?

"Do I have to carry you?" he asks through gritted teeth, voice thick with controlled emotion. "Because I will. I'm showing you that you're wrong whether you like it or not."

I believe the threat, so I get out and brush past him even though I don't know where I'm heading. If we're going to do this, I don't want him to lead me to it. Or carry me. He catches up to me in a few strides, carefully positioning himself close enough he can stop me if I try to flee again.

We make it to his apartment, both fuming the whole climb up three flights of stairs.

Brendon violently jams his key in the lock, shoving open the door and then holding it so it doesn't close. His gaze burns a hole into me as he makes it obvious I'm supposed to step inside.

I do, glaring at him. He drops his keys on the kitchen counter a few feet from the door, dragging a hand down his face. He takes a deep breath, exhaling in a sigh.

Why does he look so tired?

"Taylor!" he calls into the apartment. "Can I see you for a minute?"

"Brendon? You're back?” I hear a feminine voice ask from another room, voice muffled by the wall.

"Yes. Come here."

"What? Why?"

"I want you to meet someone."

"Okay. Give me one second."

I don't want to see this Taylor. This is his idea? Introduce us? Does he think that'll make me okay with it? That I'll just suddenly be fine with sharing my boyfriend now that I know the other girl? Please.

But the person that appears in the hallway is not the one I expect to see. She's not a voluptuous woman wearing Brendon's shirt, or something like I'd been imagining. No, she's a teenage girl.

To say I'm surprised would be the understatement of the century.

Her long black hair lays across her back in waves, framing a delicate face. Her almond-shaped eyes are dark brown. She has a dainty form, decked out entirely in black and white. She's holding her phone in her hand, a headphone cord running up to one of her ears.

"Hi," she greets, pulling the music source out. "You're Jenna, right? I'm Taylor, if you couldn't tell."

"Hello," I answer, still dazed.

"Brendon's told me a lot about you," she says. "And I mean a lot."

I'm wishing he'd told me a lot about her. Or anything at all, really.

"Hey, watch it," the man calls from behind me. "Don't go saying that. She'll get the wrong idea."

"But it's true. He always talks about his girlfriend," she trills. "Jenna did this today. Jenna looked so nice in that sweater. Listen to this funny thing Jenna said."

"So much for letting you be my confidant," he replies, petulant.

"Anyway," she says, turning back to me. "It's totally nice to finally meet you. Brendon said you've been really busy lately, so we haven't had the chance to talk yet. I've been asking him to bring you for a few days now, but he said you didn't have time."

"Did he?" I ask, still trying to wrap my head around what's going on. "Oh, um, yes. We haven't really had any time to see each other. It's nice to meet you too."

I shake her extended hand.

It's quiet for a moment as we all look at each other.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to playing video games. I'm almost done killing the boss," Taylor announces, ending the silence.

She bounces off to the room she was previously in, leaving me and Brendon alone.

I face him, trying to form words. This was not something I was prepared to speak about.

The fire in his eyes has died down now that I've seen what he wanted me to, his face returning to its usually soft state.

I'm glad to see the gentler expression come back. I didn't like the other one.

He sags against the door, appearing relieved.

"Do you understand now?" he questions, voice quiet.

There's a silent pause as I digest everything that's happened. Was she his sister? Why wouldn't he tell me about her then? He told me about his brother. Another idea comes to me.

"You have a daughter?" I finally ask, dumbfounded.

"Yes, Jenna, because I really look like I'm old enough to have a fourteen-year-old daughter."

My confusion leads me to kick into sass mode. I'm not sure where else to go.

"They say that guys look younger than they are. Plus, there's always adoption."

"No. Just no."

An awful thought pops into my head.

"Are you dating her then?"

"No!" he exclaims, appearing to be sick. "That's a terrible thing to say."

Thank goodness. That would have been really creepy.

"Sorry, I had to ask."

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, looking uncomfortable.

"I just, uh, take care of her sometimes," he says, looking down.

I feel like an idiot. Like I'm the stupidest person in the entire world for thinking Brendon was cheating on me when it wasn't even remotely close to that. I wish again that I could run away, but this time to hide from the embarrassment of it all. I know I had a reason to think that, but now I just feel so small.

Brendon's voice breaks through my thoughts.

"Taylor's my next door neighbor, has been for three years. Her parents spend a lot of time in Tokyo because that's where they work. She threatened to run away when they wanted to move there, so they worked out a deal where she could stay with me while they were off on business trips."

The comment surprises me. I've never met anyone in my building that would do something so huge for someone else.

"They just let you take care of her? I don't think I'd let my neighbors do that if I had a daughter. Then again, they let their dog bark at ungodly hours and they steal my door decorations so I don't trust them with pretty much anything. It's no coincidence I got Steve the skeleton and the day after he went missing, he was on their door instead. I know it was Steve since he was even missing his third toe because of the time I dropped and subsequently tripped on him. I couldn’t just steal him back because I know they'd make a big deal out of it and try to say I took him from them. I didn't want to go through the fuss they'd make."

He's laughing now, and I'm unusually happy about it. After the rough discussion earlier, it's nice to hear something so pleasant coming from his lips.

"That sounds rather traumatic," he says.

"Oh, it was. But then I fed one of their two plants that always block the hallway orange juice so it would die. I felt kind of bad, but I didn't want to seem weak. I don't think they figured it out."

"Anyway, about my neighbors," he interjects, scared of whatever else I might say. "We've been really close for a while now. I guess they just know I'll be a good caretaker and not some creepy kidnapper. They have a two weeks on, two weeks off schedule. Her dad's looking for a job here so they can stay at home, but this is what we're doing for now."

Relief floods my body, and my knees almost buckle. I have to focus intently on breathing for a moment. Brendon's not with anyone else. The thought fills my heart with joy. He really was telling the truth. I hadn't been wrong in my feelings for him.

"Oh!" I exclaim, a realization coming to me. "So that's who the pads were for! You really did need them for a friend."

"Why didn't you believe me?" he asks, sounding slightly hurt.

"I thought maybe you were just saying that so you could get away with dating two people at once. Then there was the phone call where you said sweetheart and the other time honey. Those are also pet names for girlfriends."

"Do I really seem like I have the ability to lie about that? Do you remember how we met? Honestly, I think I'd just start crying and break down on the first date."

"That's true, I guess."

"I just can't believe you thought I was seeing someone else," he says, genuinely distressed.

"You thought I was dating Eric," I shoot back. "Even after I said I wasn't. Only once I'd called him and we both gagged at the insinuation did you believe me."

"Yes, but we weren't together then. You didn't trust me and we've been dating."

"I'm sorry," I murmur, looking anywhere that's not his eyes. "But what else was I supposed to think when you had all these things going on with another girl? And with how you purposely avoided me coming to your apartment?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but then can't seem to find the words. He shrugs, sighing.

"I'm sorry too,” he says after a moment. "Not just about disbelieving you with Eric. I didn't tell you about Taylor because it's kind of awkward. Most people our age wouldn't want to date a guy that is responsible for a kid every two weeks. Not unless they have their own. I was worried you wouldn't give me a chance if you knew."

"Alright, fine, you've got a responsibility. So what? You have a teenager to take care of, I have an Eric to take care of. They're really not so different when you think about it."

He chuckles, appearing relieved again that I'm okay with this new development.

"I guess you're right, considering I know what Eric is like."

"Really, you should have told me earlier," I say, waving a hand at him. "The fact that you're looking after a fourteen-year-old just because you're nice automatically raises your score on the attraction scale by five."

"What is it now?"

"Seven."

"Did you seriously just tell me I was a two? You think I'm only worth a two by myself?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"What does that say about your standards then?"

"Hey!"

"You started it."

The familiar mood makes me feel comfortable, a welcome change to the past half hour.

"Are you eight now?" I ask, teasing. "Is this when you flirt with me by being mean?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," he says, repeating my words. "Is it working?"

"Next you'll be passing me a note in class asking if I think you’re cute."

"And would you say yes?"

"Should I check the like like box? Or is this strictly yes or no?"

"You're insufferable."

"Pssh," I scoff, "if I was any other way you wouldn't like me as much."

"Says who?"

I smack his arm, and he withdraws like a kicked puppy.

"Don't be so melodramatic," I say, more of an attempt at soothing than sassing.

"I think your abuse warrants my reaction."

"I barely touched you."

"I don't care."

I feel like I'm glowing, the warmth of the moment and the silly banter restoring my happiness.

Taylor suddenly clears her throat from her position in the hall again, then walks over to where we're standing.

"Do you two usually talk this much?"

Brendon smiles affectionately at her, soft and sweet. Then it twists into a mischievous grin.

"Oh, I don't know," he says. "Do you usually get tickled this much?"

"What?" she asks, before horror invades her vision.

"Brendon, oh my gosh, no! Dude! Don't you dare! I said stop!"

She squeals as he reaches for her. She attempts to spring away, but he wraps his arms around her torso and lifts her in the air. She wriggles in his grasp before he drops her onto the couch and mercilessly starts to tickle her.

"Brendon, come on!" she pleads, laughing. "I'm sorry. Please!"

He finally stops his assault, laughing along with her.

I can't stop the joy that floods my heart at the sight. What is it about watching guys interact with younger kids that's so heartwarming? I'm surprised men don't become friends with single moms and babysit their children just for attention. Actually, isn't there a movie like that?

"Jenna," Brendon coos, now a short distance away from me, "I think someone else might get tickled here."

"Not if someone doesn't want to get hurt," I threaten back, holding my bag like a weapon.

He pouts.

"You're ruining all the fun."

"I think Taylor would disagree about it being fun."

"I totally do!" she chimes. "I think Brendon should be the one who has to suffer for a change."

He looks hurt, and moves to sulk in the corner by the door.

"You guys are terrible people."

"Whatever," Taylor scoffs.

"Drama queen," I add, making her smirk.

She high fives me.

"I'm beginning to think this was a mistake," Brendon says. "You two should not interact together. As if you weren't enough trouble individually, now you're teaming up."

He has to duck when Taylor throws a remote at him before I have the chance to find a suitable projectile.

"This was most definitely a mistake," he repeats, cowering in the corner.

We torment him for a few minutes more, giggling with each other. Then she turns to him.

"So why are you back so early? I thought you were in some emergency business meeting or something. And when did you pick up Jenna? I was pretty sure you told me she was, like, a graphic designer. Was she at the meeting too?"

"You didn't tell her we were going on a date?" I ask the dark-haired man in front of me.

"No," he replies, flustered, "I didn't. If she knew she'd have asked me to bring you back here."

"What's wrong with that?" Taylor asks, hurt. "Are you ashamed of me, Brendon? That's awful."

"I'm not," he answers, even more panicked now. "Look, I'm sorry. I just knew you would team up on me and I was trying to avoid that as long as possible."

I don't want to explain everything to the teenager, so I go along with his story.

"He's a jerk, huh?" I ask Taylor.

"I know, right? You've got it, sister. So you guys were on a date? What are you doing back here so soon?"

"That's right, we were on a date. But then you had to ask me your question," he says, facing her. "Do the words 'don't call me unless you're dying' mean something different to you than they do to me?"

"I would consider not being able to find the cheese balls dying. My stomach was eating itself."

I can see why she called him. He doesn't seem to be unavailable to pick up the phone any time of the day when he's working, no matter what he says he has to do.

"It takes around three weeks to die from starvation, Taylor," he admonishes. "You weren't dying. There's other food here too."

"Well, I'm sorry," she says, looking small all of a sudden. "I didn't know you would be mad about it."

I feel bad for her. I didn't want someone to get scolded for my jealousy and worries.

"It's okay, Brendon," I reassure. "I don't mind. Besides, I think we should have met sooner. I'm glad she called, if you get what I mean."

He ducks his head, guilty. He sighs, pushing back the fringe on his forehead. It falls forward again. I scare myself with the way I want to brush it away with my own fingers.

"You're right, Jenna," he concedes. "You should have met sooner."

He turns back to Taylor, ruffling her hair in an affectionate manner.

"It's alright, kiddo. I'm not upset with you. Just try to remember where you put things from now on, okay?"

"Okay," she chimes, a smile returning to her face.

"What was the other call about?" I ask, hoping that's not intrusive.

I'm not trying to be the psycho girlfriend again.

"She couldn't find their dog when she went to feed him. He wasn't in his usual spot buried under her blankets. It turns out she accidentally let him out when she propped the door open with the bag of dog food she was putting in his bowl, so I had to go search for him. We did eventually find him in the alleyway outside, but he was covered in garbage. I'm not sure how she managed to talk me into washing him even though he's hers. She still owes me, actually."

Taylor sticks her tongue out at him, sulking. Then when she glances at me, her expression brightens again.

"Hey, Jenna," she calls. "Wanna see my bedroom? It's super cool."

She takes ahold of my sleeve and pulls me down the hall. Brendon follows us.

"Sure," I say, like I have a choice.

Taylor gives me the tour of her entirely black and white bedroom, barely giving me any time to respond to each thing. When she launches into the stories of how she got each individual picture on her wall, Brendon sneaks into the spot next to me.

"How did you-"

"Have room? This is actually an office, we just made it her room."

"Oh. That's cute."

"Brendon, stop talking. I'm telling Jenna about the picture Stacy gave me. Don't make me move you away from her."

"Sorry," he says, giving me a giving me a conspiratorial look.

"Yeah, Brendon," I tease, returning it. "Come on."

"Gosh, getting me in trouble with the teacher."

"So anyway," Taylor resumes. "So Stacy liked Jake too, but she told me if I stopped liking him that she'd draw me a picture. Which is a huge deal because she's the best artist in the world. So of course I was like, 'Sorry, Jake. You're cute and all, but I'm more interested in the arts.'"

She flips her hair back in a dramatic manner, pretending to be regal.

She then begins a new story about the one of her name drawn intricately into a picture of vines.

Brendon starts to talk to me again.

"Dude!" Taylor snaps. "You need to get out. You're ruining my stories."

"That's not fair," he protests. "Don't be mean to me."

"We're friends, right? And friends do things for their other friends, like leave. Don't be the guy who sucks and doesn't leave."

He sulks, but retracts to the hallway to give us some privacy.

Taylor has some interesting stories mixed into the saga of her life, and I enjoy listening to her.

"Okay, apartment tour!" she chirps, pulling me along again.

Brendon looks startled when we bursts through the door, especially since Taylor reaches down to yank him off the couch he's sitting on.

"What are we doing?"

"Apartment tour, apparently," I answer.

"No interrupting me this time, okay Brendon?" Taylor says.

"Okay," he agrees, allowing himself to be dragged.

Brendon's apartment is well laid out, mostly black and white like Taylor's bedroom. They must have their favorite color scheme in common. He likes stripes. Every time there's a burst of color, it's navy blue. Not surprising.

The floors are a beautiful wood, and I have to wonder how much Brendon makes working for the newspaper. Obviously I've made the wrong career choice. Not to say my apartment isn't nice, but it's not this nice.

We look at the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, and even the linen closet because "there's just this absolutely hilarious story about it." So hilarious, in fact, that I would die when I heard it. Wow. I'm not sure I want to hear it then.

All teasing aside, I genuinely enjoy Taylor's presence. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and she's actually great at telling stories. Just not ones about Stacy.

"Okay, to Brendon's room!" she announces, and he looks alarmed.

"No! I haven't organized it or anything. Taylor, let's just skip that part."

"No way! I showed her mine. You have to show her yours."

"Come on," I interject. "Please? You've seen my house. And my bedroom."

He sighs, looking resigned.

"Okay, fine."

"Don't worry, Brendon. It's not a big deal," I say.

He smiles, allowing himself to be pushed to his room.

The inside is not at all like the rest of the house. Everything outside was organized and neat, with smooth colors. This room has three bookshelves, all full and then some. Books are haphazardly stacked in front of others, as well as on the top. How much does this man read? I like books, but come on.

His bed looks fluffy and is enormous, a navy blue striped comforter laying across it.

On the bedside table are framed pictures. There's one of a younger Brendon standing with a group of people, all dressed in uniforms. He's holding a soccer ball. Taylor and what I'm assuming are her parents occupy another one with him at a fair of some sort, both of the younger people sporting face paint. I'm not surprised to see the bright grin on his face.

The one next to it catches my eye. It's a picture of a teenage Brendon, a small dark-haired child sitting on his lap. Who's that? That can't be his brother. He's so young. I'm distracted by the other person in the frame. The boys are encased in the arms of a stunning woman. Her long vermillion hair cascades across her shoulders, mouth stretched into a grin as she laughs at something. What really strikes me are her eyes. They're exactly the same as Brendon's, beautiful pools of emerald. She must be his mom. Something about her gives me the same vibe as he does, even through the photo. I wonder if they're a lot alike. He appears to be at peace, holding onto the toddler's hands as he lays his head against his mother's shoulder. He seems . . . happy. I haven't ever seen him look quite like that, not with such joy and love in his eyes. His father must have taken the picture, as he's not in it.

I feel like I'm delving into something much too personal with the picture, so I tear my eyes away and look around the room. I hope Brendon didn't notice.

The rest of the room isn't particularly messy, his clothes are all in his laundry hamper and there isn’t any trash, but the real chaos is on his desk. Not because of papers, or knickknacks. No, it's all pens. What seems to be at least eighty of them are crowding the desk. I think it may be more than that. He has four cups of them, and the rest are scattered across the wood.

"It's the pens, am I right?" Taylor asks, laughing at my expression. "I did that too. He has a hundred or more pens."

"I do not!" Brendon protests. "I don't think so, at least. Maybe after the last one my aunt gave me on my birthday. Probably not though."

"Why do you need so many?" I question in awe, getting my thoughts together.

"I like to write things by hand," he answers, shrugging. "Pencils smudge and look less professional. It got around I like pens, so people give them to me as presents. That's why I have so many, at least."

I continue to look around. At first, I don't think his room fits him. It should be collected and calm like he is. But then I remember his face when we had our soccer match, and the silly childhood game we played with the frogs.

I think I like this much better than what I had been thinking. It suits him. The real him, not just the personality he projects.

"It's cool. It's you," I tell him, wishing I was more able to express myself.

"Thank you," he replies anyway.

He looks like he understands what I really mean, his lips quirking up into a pleased smile.

"You guys aren't going to spontaneously start making out, right? Because I get crushes and all, but I don't want to see that."

"Oh, is that so?" the dark-haired man asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You understand crushes? I know. Let's tell Jenna just how much you understand, okay?"

Horror fills her face, and she lunges to clamp a hand over his mouth. He catches her arms easily, holding them away so he can speak to me.

"Taylor's got a crush on-"

"Brendon, don't you dare! Stop it!"

"-my brother Josh," he finishes. "And I'm talking a serious one. She even put their names together to see if they work well. They do."

Are they the same age? I guess the baby in the picture really was Brendon's brother. That's a huge age gap.

Taylor yanks her arms from his grip, delivering a hearty smack to his shoulder. He pouts, rubbing his injury.

"I hate you," she announces, petulant.

"No you don't," he answers, now smiling. "Besides, it's inconvenient if you hate your future brother-in-law."

She responds by hitting him again in virtually the same place, and he glares at her this time.

"That hurt," he complains. "You didn't have to hit me twice."

"Yes, I did. You're the worst friend in the world."

"It's okay," I interject. "I think it's sweet. What do you like about him?"

Her cheeks flame up in embarrassment, so I decide to be bold and pull her with me to another room.

"Come on," I say. "I'll tell you why I like Brendon and you can tell me why you like his brother."

The man starts to lag behind, so I stop and face him.

"Shoo," I order, waving him away. "This is girl talk, right Taylor?"

"Right," she agrees, smiling. "Go away."

"But I want to hear-" he tries.

"Shoo!"

He sulks, but leaves anyway.

I sit with the teenager on her bed once we reach it.

"You don't actually have to tell me if you don't want to," I say. "I just thought I'd rescue you from Brendon's teasing."

She looks relieved. But then she peers up at me, shy.

"Well, actually . . . I haven't talked about it with anyone. Not Brendon, obviously. But I haven't told my mom either. She thinks I'm too young to like boys even though I'm almost an adult."

I have to hold in a laugh about her being an "adult." I'm not even an adult, even though legally I am. It's most definitely not the same thing. Still, I want Taylor to be comfortable with talking to me. She seems like a good person, and she obviously doesn't have anyone to talk to about this. Or, at least she doesn't want to tell her friends.

"Okay, then we can talk," I offer, smiling. "Tell me about him. Is he cute?"

"I think so," she answers, looking down I'm embarrassment.

"What else do you like about him?" I nudge, trying to get her to open up.

"Well . . . okay, I'll tell you."

She crosses her legs in front of her, leaning forward.

"He's super cute and he's really nice to me when we talk. He's always walking across our school looking so sure of himself. He's not a jerk, he's just really confident."

"So the opposite of Brendon then?" I ask, teasing.

"Pretty much," she answers, laughing.

"Why don't you ask him out then?"

Her face becomes red again, and she shakes her head.

"No way," she protests, mortified. "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because . . . I don't know if he'd be interested in me. Sometimes I think he is but other times I don't know. He always teases me, but he's not mean. Is that good?"

I grin, thinking of how many times I've teased my boyfriends.

"Yep!" I chirp. "That is good. That's the number one flirting move, Taylor."

"Really?"

She's so adorable. Her excitement brings about my own, and I laugh again. I was just like her when I was that age. Not that I'm much different now.

"I hate to tell you, but he likes you," I coo, drawing out the word.

She looks away to hide her blush, but I can see the way she bites her lip to hide the smile.

"Well, I still can't ask him out," she says. "I just started High School. He's a Sophomore. They're all so cool."

"That's only a year difference. I know that seems like a lot, but I promise it's okay."

And you don't think it's weird I live with his brother sometimes?"

I have to think about that one. I don't want to give her bad advice. If they broke up in a bad way, it may be awkward to stay with Brendon. But then I dismiss any concern. Taylor doesn't seem like the kind of girl to do anything to make them have a bad relationship, so if it happened it would be on Josh. And Brendon doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would take sides, so it shouldn't mess anything up.

"It's not weird," I reply, wagging a finger. "It just means you have better connections. Think about it. Brendon could ask him over and you'll just happen to be here."

She's smiling, so I continue.

"Oh, hello Josh," I say, imitating her. "It's so nice to see you. I know, crazy meeting here, huh? Yes, actually, I am free on Sunday. Let's see a movie."

She launches into a giggle fit, collapsing onto her bed to laugh. I can feel my own chuckles escape my throat, and I join her among the fluff of her bedspread.

When she stops, she props herself up on her elbow.

"There is one more thing," she admits, looking nervous.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"A few other girls like him too. One of them is Stacy."

"I thought she wanted Jake."

I'm feeling proud of my memory for being able to differentiate Stacy from Samantha and Amy.

"She did. She always wants the guys I like."

I hold back the smile I can feel as I respond.

"Will you give Josh up for a drawing?"

"No way," she answers, serious.

"Then who cares? Stacy can go after someone else. I don't care if she's the best artist in the world, she's not as great you."

Her smile is genuine, and she looks so pleased I can't help but feel warm I'm able to help her.

"Besides," I add, coy, "does he tease Stacy? Or any of the others?"

"No," she answers, biting her lip again as she smiles. "He only does that to me."

"There you have it. He likes you, you like him. Perfect."

"Can girls really ask guys out? Are you sure that's not super weird?"

My grin grows wider, thinking of my own experiences.

"They sure can," I answer. "In fact, I asked Brendon out. He was too shy to do it himself. Do you think we're weird?"

"Nope! But wow, really? He didn't tell me that."

"He was probably embarrassed. You can tease him for me later if you want."

She looks down at her fingers for a moment, thinking. She takes a deep breath.

"Okay, I believe you. There's this dance thing in a month. The girls ask the guys to it. I think I'll ask Josh."

"That's great! I think you'll have fun."

"Thanks, Jenna. You're pretty cool."

She leaps forward, almost shoving me off the bed when she hugs me. I wish I had someone this enthusiastic in my life more often.

"Just giving you advice from someone who's older," I answer, laughing.

"So, it's your turn," she chimes, shooting up.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your turn," she repeats. "To tell my why you would like Brendon. Because honestly, even though he's one of my best friends, I can't see it. No offense to him."

"Well . . ."

I think for a moment. He's kind. He's funny. I love how passionate he gets about everything. He's silly and ridiculous, but in the most endearing way possible. He makes me feel safe. But before I can say of these things, the sound of the floor creaking outside the door comes to my ears.

I can't believe it. Brendon's eavesdropping. Fine. If he's going to be like that, I have an idea.

I raise a finger to my lips to shush Taylor after she hears it too, gesturing with my head to the door. She seems to get my plan.

"Well," I start again. "I used to think he was really attractive. But the more time I spend with him I change my mind. And he's really dumb. He says all these ridiculous things. Don't even get me started on how weird he is."

I motion for Taylor to talk, and I slowly creep to the door.

"Yeah, I can see why you'd say that. He's pretty lame actually."

I jerk the door open in one pull, laughing as Brendon falls through and lands on the floor. He has to recover for a moment, rubbing the place he landed on his arm.

"Ha!" I crow. "That's what you get!"

"That was mean!" he snaps, upset. "I could have seriously gotten hurt."

"Then don't lean on the door and listen to us! You deserved it."

"She's right," Taylor adds, giggling. "You're a jerk for snooping. Not cool, dude."

"I'm the jerk? Jenna's the one saying horrible things about me."

He looks up at me, still on the floor, and sulks.

"I can't believe you'd say that about me. Did you really mean it?"

"I don't talk to eavesdroppers," I tease, walking away.

I'm startled when he pulls my leg until I topple down next to him. I can't say my knee isn't sending sparks of pain up my leg, but I can handle it.

"Ouch," I complain, yanking my ankle away from him. "You suck."

"So do you," he replies, sullen.

"You two are silly," Taylor interjects, pulling me up from the floor.

We ignore Brendon.

"I feel so unloved," he whines, and we just glare at him.

He lithely slips off the ground, pretending to sniffle.

I can't say it doesn't make me want to smile, even though I purposely don't.

"Oh, wait!" Taylor exclaims. "I have an idea. You guys wait in the living room, I'll be back."

I give Brendon a curious look, and he just shrugs. We follow the teenager’s instruction as she heads next door to look for something.

Brendon sticks his hands in his pockets as he stares at me, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"What's she doing?" I ask, waiting.

"I don't know."

He is quiet for another moment. I wonder what Taylor's trying to find.

"She's not bothering you, right?" the dark-haired man asks, looking worried.

"Of course not," I answer, frowning. "Why would she be bothering me?"

"I'm just making sure," he replies, and then his eyes soften. "Thanks for helping her, by the way. She's been agonizing over my brother for a while now. She wouldn't tell me she was, but I knew."

"I'm glad I could help. You really shouldn't listen in on her though. I think she took it as a joke, but she's shy enough about it as it is."

"I'm sorry," he says, abashed. "I know it was rude. I couldn't help myself. Sometimes I get too curious."

I relate to him there. Just replace "sometimes" with "every second of the day" and we'd be the same.

"You were very good to her," he adds, and I almost melt at the way he gazes at me in appreciation. "It was sweet."

Wow. I wish he would look at me like that all the time. Does he have any more friends in need of advice? No, Jenna. That's selfish. Stop it.

"Was I right?" I ask, now nervous. "I told her the best thing to do, right? You don't think Josh will reject her?"

I would hate if I told her to go for it only for it to be the cause of her broken heart.

"Not at all," he reassures. "I think they'd be cute as a couple. They always seem to have fun together when they hang out. Josh has kind of hinted at it too. He always looks embarrassed when I mention Taylor."

"Good," I breathe, letting out a relived sigh.

I open my mouth to say something else, but close it a moment later. I'm confused. How did Brendon end up with such a young brother?

"You're wondering about the age difference between us, aren't you?" he asks.

How did he know that? Maybe I'm really easy to read.

"Well, yeah," I admit. "Taylor's only fourteen and you're my age."

"My mom had me when she was eighteen," he tells me, eyes warming. "She liked to tell me I was a pleasant surprise. That's really just a nice way of saying an accident. She waited ten years to have her next child. She was hoping Josh would be a girl. We used to call him Joshella to tease him about it."

"That's so mean," I say, but I don't actually think it.

"Well he looks a lot like my mom, so she sort of got her wish. Look, here's a picture of him. One of the only ones in existence pretty much. He hates being in photos."

"Sounds like someone else I know," I say, nudging him with my elbow.

"I only don't like being in them alone," he corrects. "It's awkward."

I take the phone he hands me to look at the picture. He wasn't kidding about him looking like his mom. He has the same dark hair as Brendon and his eyes aren't green, but otherwise he's the male version of the woman in the previous photo. He has bird-like features, with soft curves and delicate cheekbones. And I've been calling Brendon the pretty boy.

I can see why Taylor likes him, and I mean that in the least creepy and non-pedophile-like way possible.

"Is he anything like you?" I ask, teasing. "Because if he is, Taylor's got a lot to deal with."

"He's not," he answers, chuckling. "He's actually my opposite. We used to argue a lot, but we've since adapted to each other. He's one of my best friends."

"Does he kidnap people too?" I joke.

But when Brendon's smile slips from his face, I understand he didn't take it that way.

"I didn't mean it like that," I add, worried. "I'm just kidding with you."

His lips curve upwards fractionally, but there's something distressed in his face as well.

He wedges his hands even deeper into his pockets.

"About that. In all seriousness, Jenna, I would never cheat on you. I'm not that kind of person. But even if I was, I respect you far too much to think about doing such a thing."

"If you were that kind of person you wouldn't care," I say, smiling. "But I'm glad you didn't know that."

He approaches me, hesitant. When I don't move away, he slips his arms around me for a hug. I've never been so glad to be holding onto someone before. It's a relieving and welcome change to have this happen instead of what usually does after something like this morning.

Brendon's words are quiet and sad when he speaks.

"I'm sorry I made you feel as if I was being unfaithful to you, as well as for being so harsh with you. I know I needed to show you, but I didn't have to act like that. I was scared you'd leave before I had a chance to explain. I can't apologize enough. How long have you thought this was going on?"

He tightens his hug. His voice is starting to break.

"What am I talking about?" he asks himself before I can speak. "Even a minute is too long."

His words make my heart warm, any residual worry and pain dissipating.

"I'm the one who's sorry," I murmur into his shirt. "I shouldn't have yelled at you or have said those awful things. I was just so upset at the thought of you using me like that."

"Don't apologize," he replies, his tone soft. "You had every right to be angry with that thought. I'm glad you let me show you I wasn't. I guess I should use the term 'let me' loosely. I did kind of kidnap you, you’re right. Honestly, Jenna. I'm extraordinarily sorry."

"It's okay," I answer, voice still muffled by his body. "I think it might have mostly been me. I haven't had the best experience with dating before."

Brendon pulls back to look at me. When I avoid his curious eyes, he doesn't question me on the subject.

"Jenna, will you let me try this with you again?" he asks, eyes wide and earnest.

"So long as you don't mind dating the crazy girl who freaked out on you, sure," I answer, grinning.

I'm joking. For the most part, anyway.

"You're not crazy," he answers, serious.

"Well, maybe not for that," I chime.

He smiles too this time, looping his arms around my waist.

The sound of a camera shutter catches our attention.

"Perfect shot!" Taylor exclaims, looking at the screen of her camera.

"Did you just take a picture of us?" I ask, blinking.

"Yep! You guys can start kissing and I'll take a shot of that too," she teases, waving the device around.

"You're so dead," Brendon announces, lunging at her again.

She tries to flee, but he's too fast for her in the end. He lifts her up and spins with her until she squeals her apology. He sets her down, laughing.

"I'm dizzy," she says, but she's giggling too.

I can feel a wide smile on my face, and I don't have any control over it. It may be stupid I'm so happy to see the two play around, but I can't help it.

"Come on, Jenna," Taylor orders, pulling me back to her room. "You too, Brendon."

"What are we doing?"

"Photo shoot!"

We spend the next hour making funny faces for the camera, dressing up in different outfits. Taylor must have kept around twenty of the photos in the final cut.

Afterwards, we order a pizza and they teach me how to play the video games they both like. They have a huge collection of them. They even play Wii Tennis with me. I wear the wrist strap this time so nothing breaks, and I win a majority of the matches. Let's just say there was some pouting about losing from my companions, even though it was just a cover for their smiles.

I decide that they're both people I want to keep around.

Brendon drives me back to the mall where my car is after we finish, but not before Taylor makes sure she has my number and cuts off my air supply by hugging me tightly. She doesn't let me leave until I've promised I'll come back to see her soon, and I extract my own promise that she'll ask Josh to that dance.

The ride back is much more soothing than the one there, the cool air of the evening weaving through my hair as I lean out the window. Brendon is cautious as he takes my hand, but he smiles when I don't pull away. I don't bother to scold him about safety.

When we pull up to the parking lot of my building, it's quiet. Hardly anyone is around, either tucked inside or already out for the night.

There's only a distressed mother trying to strap her far too energized kids into their car seats and a man laid across a bench. I wonder where the mom is taking her kids so late. She's dressed in athletic clothes, so it must be the gym. There's one several blocks down the street that has a play place in it as well. Good luck getting them to go to sleep afterwards, gym mom.

The man is limp as he lays there, making me concerned. I'm not sure if he's drunk or just immensely lethargic, and I don't want to. He's kind of creeping me out with his spaced-out stare.

I slide out of Brendon's beautiful vehicle, reluctant. I sigh.

"It's not fair you have this car," I say, sulking.

"And why's that?"

"Because you don't appreciate it like I do."

"Hey!" he exclaims. "I do too! I love my car. Just because I don't know everything about it doesn't mean it can't have a special place in my heart. Shush."

"Whatever."

"You're just jealous."

"I'm not going to respond to you."

"Because I'm right."

"Go away."

He laughs, reaching down to hold my hand.

"I had a good time today, pretty boy," I say, looking up at him.

"Oh, I'm sure," he replies, sarcastic but light-hearted. "What was your favorite part? When I made you think I was cheating on you? When we yelled at each other? Or was it when I kidnapped you?"

I smile, squeezing his hand.

"We've had an eventful day, haven't we?"

He scoffs, looking away.

"I'm an idiot," he says.

"So am I," I reply, voice soft. "At least we can be idiots together."

He doesn't say anything, but his lips quirk up just enough for me to know he's pleased.

"Actually, I did have a favorite part," I announce, trying to make him really smile.

"And what was that?"

"I don't want to tell you," I tease. "You'll be obnoxious about it."

"Aw, come on," he whines, facing me. "I want to know."

"It may or may not have been the frogs."

He processes that for a moment, thinking of what I mean. Then his face breaks out into a dazzling smile, and I don't regret having to hear what comes out of his mouth.

"Jenna, I can't believe you. You mean you actually liked something fun? Something that wasn't what you consider entertainment for adults?"

"See? I said you were going to be obnoxious. I was right."

I pretend to hit his shoulder, but I don't put any effort into it.

When he places his hands on the car, one on each side of me, I don't mind at all. I like the small spaces he makes.

He tilts his face down as I tilt mine up, and our eyes meet. I get lost in the sea of green, so it's several moments until I notice that he's about to kiss me.

And then at that exact moment two things happen. Neither of which are what I expected, nor are they things I appreciate.

One, the gym mom's youngest child decides to bust a lung by screeching as loud as humanly possible.

Two, the previously semi-comatose man from before lurches out of his seat and starts singing something incoherent.

Brendon stops, startled. Just before I have the presence of mind to push forward and connect us, he pulls away to look at what's causing the commotion. Damn it.

Does the universe just not want us to kiss? What have I done to it? Was it that time I said it was a meany face because I dropped my ice cream? I was five, for crying out loud. I didn't know what I was saying. I would have just kept my mouth shut if I had known was going to take revenge on me. If it wants to be like that though, I have some much more potent words I could use to describe it now.

"Oh my god," I groan, clutching at Brendon's collar. "Why does this keep happening?"

The man simply smiles, wrapping me up in a hug.

"Sorry, Jenna," he coos. "Looks like we'll have to wait again."

"I don't wanna," I sulk. "Come on, let me just get it over with."

"That is quite possibly the least romantic thing you've ever said," he teases, leaning back. "And that's saying a lot."

I smack him for real this time, irritated.

"Why not?" I whine.

I'm tired of other people infringing upon my romantic moment.

"You really want to have our first kiss surrounded by screaming children and a drunk man?"

"Maybe," I reply, sullen.

He laughs again, and then lays a kiss against the edge of my mouth. Not enough to actually count for anything, but certainly enough to tease me.

"Now you're just being mean," I complain, shoving him.

The intoxicated man gets louder, stumbling towards us.

"H-h-hey," he slurs and hiccups. "Ain't you t-two lovebirds a s-sh-s-sight? You . . . You . . . You're somethin'. Where's my beer?"

He departs again, frantic in his quest to find the alcohol that's actually still on the bench. I'm wondering how long it'll be before someone calls the cops on him for public intoxication.

"It's not that bad," I tell Brendon, trying to make my case. "This is romantic, right?"

Before he can answer, he's interrupted by gym mom.

"Timothy! I said put on your seatbelt! Young man, I will take away your game system. Hey! Gregory! Stop hitting your sister! I don't care if she started it!"

"So romantic," Brendon teases, laughing at my exasperated expression.

"Fine," I concede, shoving him again. "Go home. You're awful."

He pulls me back to him against my protests, smiling as he holds me. He buries his nose in my hair.

"I'll call you tomorrow sometime to arrange something and then maybe for once we can have a normal date."

"I doubt it," I answer, still pouting. "I don't think that's possible for us."

He laughs, and it puts me in a better mood. It's soothing to feel the vibrations of his chuckle through his chest.

"Let's hope for the best, then," he responds, drawing away.

"Okay," I say, sighing. "Don't get fired for calling me at work."

"Of course not. They won't fire me. I think."

"You're hopeless."

I don't mean it.

"I know. Goodnight, Jenna. Sleep well, have pleasant dreams."

"Goodnight, pretty boy. You too."

He lays his lips against my cheek, lingering longer than normal. Okay, maybe it's not so bad. It's just not what I want.

He smiles as he pushes away from the car, walking to the driver side.

He waves at me before he slides in, blowing me a kiss.

I know he'll sulk if I don't, so I pretend to catch it in the air even though that's extraordinarily corny. Like him.

I evade the drunk man as I slip inside my apartment building, running a hand through my hair.

It's been a long day. Not that I really mind, but I'm tired now.

I barely make it to my bed before I fall asleep, still in my shoes and regular clothes.

At least I do indeed have pleasant dreams.