And you know what? As it turns out, I don’t think Sam needs to hear this whole story. It probably wouldn’t make her feel much better. So I keep the full story to myself but decide that, one day, if I feel she needs to hear it, I’ll tell her.
Wait a second.
Why in the world am I picturing myself in Sam’s life as she’s growing up?
“I had some not-so-nice people say some not-so-nice things about me when I was young. But you know what…” I look down at Sam and brush her hair behind her ear. “I survived. It hurt at the time, but now I’m a strong woman who lives with a very scary medical condition, and I have every right to feel proud of myself for that. And you do, too. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about who you are or scared to live your life. You’re more than your seizures. And I’ll be happy to remind you of that anytime you doubt it.”
Sam smiles and then surprises me by leaning into me and wrapping me up in her darling little arms. “Thanks, Evie. I’m glad I emailed you that day…even if I did lose my iPad for a week.”
I laugh. “Me too, darlin’.”
A few minutes later, I hear the sliding door open, and Jake steps out wearing a pair of aviators in a way that would make Tom Cruise envious. “What are you two ladies doing out here?”
“Just enjoying your incredible pool,” I say, holding my hand above my eyes to shade them from the sun. I should have put them in front of my eyes to shade them from Jake. I can’t handle how good he looks drenched in the orange sunset. He’s already tan, but the warm glow only adds to it, licking at his muscular forearms and making the man look downright illegal.
“I’m glad someone’s enjoying it,” he says, coming to sit down on the other side of Charlie.
“Yeah, we never use it,” says Sam, a sad tone touching her voice.
“Never?” I’m shocked. What kind of crazy person would have a pool this glorious and never use it?
“Between work, and school, and doctor’s appointments, we just don’t have the time.”
“Then make time!” He should be put in jail for owning a pool that could be featured on a design show and not finding time to use it.
He chuckles and shakes his head a little. “It’s not that easy.”
“It really is, though.”
He’s trying to sell me adulting, and I’m not buying it. The real problem has been hovering in Jake’s and Sam’s eyes all week. They haven’t picked up the pieces of their life yet. They got hit with some tough stuff and haven’t decided to move forward. I’m about to slingshot their butts into moving on.
“Life isn’t worth it if you can’t play a little. You’ve gotta steal fun when you can,” I say while standing up.
Jake looks up at me with a crooked smile. “Like when? What do you suggest when every day is booked solid and I can barely find time to tie my shoes?”
“Get some slip-ons.” I flash him a haughty grin. “And allow me to point out that you’re not busy right this minute.”
His smile falters ever so slightly. “I don’t have my swim trunks on.”
Oh, silly little practical Jake. As you’re about to find out, I don’t give one hill of beans if your trunks are on or not.
I smile wickedly, and then, before he has time to process the evil about to befall him, I give him a shove from behind and dump his practical butt in the pool.
He comes up out of the water like a cologne ad that never made it to live television because it was too sensual. His navy shirt is clinging to his chiseled body, and his hair is dripping wet before he dashes his hand through it, sending glistening water droplets through the air—and basically, I’ve never been prouder of a decision in my entire life.
Sam has dissolved into a fit of laughter beside me, and I’m pretty sure that Charlie just called Jake a moron under his breath. (Obviously, he likes Jake, but I think he’s a tad bit jealous of our new friendship. He can go cry to Rachel Green.)
“Laugh it up, chuckles,” Jake says with a heart-melting smile. “You’re next.”
I see what he’s doing. He’s inching toward the edge of the pool with a smirk that says I’m coming for you. Jake is so certain that I’m going to scream and run away like the girl who just got her hair done and would rather die than ruin her blowout. He doesn’t know me very well yet, and my hair appointment is so overdue I think my hairstylist has given up on me completely.
Ladies, if you don’t take any other advice from me, listen to these words, because they are the most important you will ever hear: if a sexy man is in a pool and smiling at you like Jake is smiling at me, don’t waste a single moment standing on the side.
Before he has a chance to make it to the stairs, I take off running and cannonball in right beside him.
Chapter Sixteen
EVIE
I’m wringing out my hair from my shower and listening to Leon Bridges croon over the speakers. I have a sweet, warm, scented candle lit on my coffee table, and everything is right with the world. It’s been a good week. A good day, especially.
I can’t put my finger on it, but something about me feels different. I’m still working my same job; I still have my same thimble-sized apartment; there is still the same chance I’ll have a seizure today as there was yesterday, but something feels different. It’s like I had a pile of books stacked on my desk, and although I can’t be certain, I think someone came in at some point and rearranged them. I’m rearranged.
Laughing in the pool tonight with Jake and Sam made me feel a sense of belonging. It scares me as much as it excites me, but I don’t want to give into the fear. I still feel like I’m sitting up in the nosebleeds, but maybe I’m ready to walk down a few flights of stairs to get closer to the field.
I think Jake feels this way too. I could try to talk myself out of it—run a fake play on my own heart and choose to believe that he’s not interested in me. But here’s the thing: I catch him looking at me a lot. And it’s not a normal look. It’s a smoldering, knock-your-socks-off-kissing-until-midnight kind of look. He’s at least attracted to me—I know that much.
So, what kind of dance are we doing here?
I just finish squeezing the water out of my hair and neatly hang up my towel on the drying rack (ha ha, just kidding! It’s laying in a bundle on the floor where it will probably live for the rest of the week), when I hear a knock at my door.
“Did you order cookies again?” I ask the lazy dog lying on my bed.
He gives me a look that says stop blaming your poor eating habits on me and then lays his head back down. It’s a good thing he’s so cute.
I open the door and then realize I should have looked through the peephole first. I could have just opened the door to a murderer, or a rapist, or—gasp—my mama. But thanks to my incredible luck in life lately, I open the door to none other than Jacob Broaden.
“Jake!” I say, and whoa I need to simmer down because I sound WAY too excited to see him. Play it cool. I’m supposed to be walking down the stairs toward the field, not full-on sprinting and skipping steps.
He likes it, though, because he smiles when he says, “Hey, Evie.”