Junk Miles Read online

  He had fallen off of the radar just before my birthday. For a while, he didn’t even show up at school. We were supposed to spend the day together as part of a government assignment, but I wound up going with another girl who won third place in our class competition. He was gone for almost three weeks, then he was back and no one knew where he’d gone or why. He hardly looked my way, didn’t talk to me, and closed his Facebook account. He left me the book on my birthday and other than that, it was just a look once in a while that let me know he was working really hard at keeping his distance.

  The problem was that I couldn’t keep myself from thinking about him. He had almost driven a permanent wedge between me and Jake, but then backed off. He took the heat when Jake could have been mad at me, and then he told me the thing that shook me to my core; he and Jake had the same father, a fact Jake was still in the dark about. Saxon also told me that he didn’t want Jake to know, didn’t want to disappoint him as a blood brother in addition to disappointing him as a friend. He told me that if Jake wasn’t with me, he’d fight for me. And he’d vanished.

  I never told Jake. Beyond the whole problem of Saxon liking me, Jake and Saxon had grown up close, and Saxon had exposed Jake to a lot of vices. When Jake finally had enough of that crazy lifestyle, he cut Saxon completely out of his life, and he hadn’t dealt with him again until I came into the picture. It would make sense for me to stay as far away from Saxon as I could.

  There was just one problem.

  I could never quite wriggle out of Saxon’s grasp, no matter how hard I tried. And something in me didn’t want to. There was something about him that drew me in, whether I liked it or not. I wanted to talk to him more, specifically about the whole Jake thing, but he just avoided me or flat-out ignored me. It sucked, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  I cried a little at the scene where Marianne sees Willoughby at the ball and he brushes her off. It wasn’t that I wanted Saxon to want me or fight for me; it was just that if he felt that way and was open about it, we couldn’t even be friends. Jake hated him so much it wasn’t even an option to bring it up to him. It was a lost cause.

  Before I knew it, my phone rang. I slid my window up and helped him in. He smiled and put a finger to his lips.

  Jake had snuck in before, but he didn’t like to make a habit of it. Especially since he met my parents. He knew they didn’t really approve of him, and doing anything to make that sense stronger didn’t work for him at all.

  But there was the undeniable attraction between us that always managed to skew his judgment and force him to bend his rules. Which worked for me.

  I had never been much of a rebel, but Mom’s new tactics were teaching me something I don’t think she expected; I was learning that I had to do what I needed to do without worrying about who I was hurting. I had to be a little selfish.

  I knew Mom would have freaked out if she knew that was how I interpreted her speech.

  Jake shed everything down to his boxers and slid the neat pile under my bed. He wiggled in between the covers and snuggled up to me. His clothes and skin were still icy cold from running in the night air, across the fields and through the woods. He didn’t park close because he was afraid someone would recognize the truck. I put my hands on his body, ran them up and down his back and along the muscles of his shoulders and arms. He pulled a long piece of my hair and brought it to his nose.

  “Your hair smells like cinnamon.” He breathed it in and hummed with contentment low in his throat.

  “It’s my holiday shampoo,” I whispered.

  He laughed quietly. “Holiday shampoo. You’re a weird girl.”

  “Just because you don’t celebrate at all doesn’t mean that I never want to.” I poked him in the ribs under the blankets.

  “I’m sorry.” He brushed his fingertips over my face. “Next year I’ll get candy cane deodorant and mistletoe aftershave.”

  “I think mistletoe is poisonous.” I giggled.

  “I’m willing to sacrifice to get into the holiday spirit. I want to be a hardcore Christmaser like you.” He kissed me softly. “Maybe you can snag me one of the pictures Thorsten took of you today.”

  “It was a great dress, wasn’t it?” I sighed.

  “I guess.” He kissed me again. “I just think you looked amazing. I don’t know if you realize how pretty you are.”

  “Oh, I do.” I put my hands on either side of his face. “I totally use it against you. Bat an eyelash, get you to carry my lunch tray. Toss my hair, you run over to my house and jump in my window.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m just your little monkey on a string.”

  “You’ve got that right,” I said.

  And then we were kissing again, and then the kisses got deeper and Jake’s hands were all over me. I relaxed back into the mattress and closed my eyes in the dark. I loved the cool, scratchy feel of his skin on mine. He touched me where I was softest and where I was most sensitive, and I loved it. It was like he had an instinct about how to make me feel incredible. I touched back, and soon the world had narrowed in exactly the way I loved it to. It was just me and Jake in my bed, all roving hands and kisses.

  And then, in the middle of it all, I heard someone in the kitchen.

  Jake snatched back from me like I’d burned him. I righted my pajamas and pushed at him.

  “Under the bed,” I whispered.

  He was off the bed and scurried under in a few silent seconds. I could hear him breathing, and I was positive it was the loudest sound in the world, but I couldn’t tell him to stop.

  My heart hammered, and I tried to relax my own breathing, but, in the midst of pure, palpitating panic, I couldn’t remember how people breathed when they slept. Trying to breath too slow made me need to gulp bigger breaths. I suddenly had an itch on my nose that I didn’t want to scratch, but I realized I must scratch my nose in my sleep sometimes. I felt like the seconds stretched out forever, as I lay on my bed, breathing erratically and trying not to scratch what had become the most unbearably itchy nostril in the world.

  I imagined getting caught. I imagined my mother’s extreme disappointment. I imagined what it would be like if she made me dump Jake. How the house would light up on this otherwise peaceful night and be full of arguments and accusations, disappointment and crushed trust. My stomach clenched, and I felt sweat break out under my armpits. I bit the inside of my lip and willed this whole thing to be over.

  Minutes of shuffling later, and my door cracked open. I relaxed my muscles and kept my eyes closed.

  My mother’s bare feet padded across the room, and stopped inches away from where Jake lay under my bed. I couldn’t hear a sound from him, but I was nervous he was holding his breath. What if he let it out in one long rush and my mother heard?

  The mattress creaked under her weight as she sat on the side of it. It was pure, agonizing torture to keep my eyes closed and not sit up and just confess to end all of the nervous anxiety of the moment. I felt Mom’s hand smoothing my hair, then she leaned over and kissed my forehead.

  She stayed less than a minute, then stood up and headed back out of my room, closing the door behind her quietly.

  Jake stayed under the bed for a long time. Finally I had to call him out.

  “Jake, are you still there?” I felt guilty. I had convinced him to come over. This would probably be the last time.

  He spoke softly from under my bed. “I’m here, Bren.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” His voice was flat.

  “I shouldn’t have convinced you to come.” I chewed on my lip nervously. Jake didn’t say anything. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking that I’m so glad we weren’t sound asleep.” He pulled out from under the bed. He’d managed to get his clothes on, and he knelt on the side, not daring, I was sure, to climb back in next to me.

  “You’re leaving now, aren’t you?” My voice had that wobble I despised.

  “You can’t re
ally want me to stay. What if Mom is having indigestion? She could be back every hour. Let me go. You get a good night’s sleep, and work on getting out for a few hours tomorrow. I’ll call out from Zinga’s so I’m ready if you need me.”

  Jake never, ever called out from work. I knew he was offering me an olive branch so I didn’t flake out. And I knew it was completely ridiculous of me to even contemplate flaking out. He was right, he was reasonable, I was being selfish.

  Maybe Mom had underestimated my capacity for selfishness.

  “Okay, go.” But I wasn’t ready for him to leave, and I wasn’t happy he was going.

  He pulled me close and kissed me, a long, thorough kiss that had only the barest hint of his desperation to be gone.

  After a few more minutes of my pulling him to me and his pulling away, he vanished back into the goosebump inducing black. I watched him run across the fields and back to his truck, somewhere in the dark, cold night, from my window. Now the bed would feel even larger and emptier. The night stretched longer and lonelier than it ever had before. I couldn’t help the tears that fell. The frigid air outside made me feel better, and soon I was cold and shivering. I got back under the covers and dreamed about Jake and Saxon, racing around the school track, me in a snow globe watching them, pounding on the thick, clear glass. I woke up with a start in the early dawn, then fell back into a restless sleep until long after sunrise.

  Mom knocked lightly on my door. I was already awake, but not up. My first thought was that she knew what I had done last night, and she was coming to give me a long, long lecture. I felt panic sweep through me.

  “Sweetheart? Did you get a chance to finish packing?” She waited outside my door, looking like part of her wanted to barge right in while another part of her thought staying out was a better idea.

  It occurred to me that Mom was just unsure how much space and privacy to give me. “Come in, Mom.” I patted the bed, just like she would do for me. “I finished packing yesterday.”

  “What did you pack for a jacket?” she quizzed.

  “My blue wool trench coat.”

  “Good. And for nights out?”

  “I have the red silk from last night, with stockings and my black mohair sweater.” I stretched my arms over my head. “What coat are you bringing?”

  “I thought my new plaid. The one with the orange in it.”

  “Ooh, that one is so pretty.” I had definitely inherited my love of gorgeous clothes from my mother. “I love the lining. It’s too bad no one ever gets to see it.”

  “You’re right. It does have that gorgeous Japanese floral and bird thing going on. Well, I’ll be sure to fold it inside out whenever I hold it.”

  “And I’ll appreciate it every time I see it.” There was nothing like an amazing, hidden lining. “So, what’s on the itinerary for Paris?”

  “The usual museums and churches, but we’ll have a lot of free time, down time. And the other professors will be bringing their families, so there will be kids your age.” She smiled. “A bunch of nerdy professors’ kids.”

  I grinned. “Yeah right. You, a nerdy professor? Thorsten and I had to wait half an hour last time we came to pick you up. There were so many hot young guys drooling over you I could barely see you.”

  Mom laughed, and I remembered how much I loved that sound all over again. A desperate need to see Jake crashed over me. I didn’t want to tear this moment apart, but I knew she and I would have lots of time together in the next few days. Just as I was about to open my mouth…

  “Brenna, if you want to go out with Jake today, you should. You won’t see him for a while, and I’ll be busy getting everything in order here.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I looked at her face, but she didn’t meet my eyes. I could sense my mom’s intentions warring with her guilt. Instead of trying to figure it all out, I kissed her cheek and got up. “I’ll give him a call so we can go out early. What time is our flight?”

  “Five in the morning. Bright and early.” She smiled apologetically.

  Yuck. Our five in the morning was Paris’s eleven. If the plane flight took eight hours, we’d land right around seven at night, Paris time. “I’ll be ready,” I promised. Mom kissed my forehead and left me.

  I got up and picked through my many watches. I selected my old pink leopard print watch and set it to Paris time. I liked to get myself thinking ahead so I didn’t get severe jet lag. Then I called Jake.

  “Hey Bren.” His voice was adorably sleepy. “How is it in the Blixen house?”

  “Getting ready for travel.” I twirled my watch on my wrist. “How about you and me spending the whole day together?”

  “Your wish is my command.” He sounded much more awake.

  “Do you need to go back to bed?” I didn’t want to dwell on the night before. It was just so far from what I had wanted. It wound up being rushed and guilt-filled and completely unromantic.

  “Why are you always so obsessed with getting me into bed?” he teased. “I am not tired.”

  I heard him get up out of bed, and, if I closed my eyes, I could picture it – his long, muscled body with only a pair of boxers hanging low on his hips, his hair cutely mussed, the phone at his ear, and, especially, that great smile with its chipped front tooth and twisted eye tooth. “I want to see you soon. How ready are you?” His voice was awake now.

  “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.” I hopped off the bed, ran to my closet, and pulled out an outfit.

  “Good, because I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and I’m taking you captive as soon as I get there. Go get ready.”

  We got off the phone and I got in the shower. I was as quick as I could be, but I felt like I had to shave, and I always felt like it was a waste of good conditioner if I didn’t leave it in for a full five minutes. It was just a theory of mine, but I didn’t think the possibility of frizzy hair was worth cutting conditioning time short, even if I was trying to rush it. When I got out, I dried my hair quickly and put makeup on as fast as I could. I threw on black knit leggings and this great bright blue tunic sweater. I pulled on a pair of high boots with fur on them. They seemed kind of silly, but I loved them at the same time. I slung a wide belt over my hips and took it off, then put it on again. I tied on my ‘B’ necklace and selected a pair of dangling silver earrings Thorsten got me in Sweden when we visited. Since Jake wasn’t there yet, I applied more eye makeup and slid on a headband that I took off right away. Just when I was feeling certifiably stir crazy, I heard Jake’s tires crunch on our gravel.

  Right there, in the middle of my room, I did a little happy, hopping dance since no one was there to see me and I felt, in that moment, so perfectly, burstingly happy that I needed to expend that feeling. This wave of sublime bliss washed over me, and I was buoyed like I was full of golden light.

  Then Jake was in my doorway.

  “Jake!” I wasn’t dancing anymore, but the only times he’d ever been in my room were when he snuck over at night or while Mom was teaching and Thorsten was at work.

  “Mom told me to come and tell you I was here. She was in the garage getting out a big, big suitcase.” He leaned against my doorframe, his hands in his pockets and a huge grin on his face.

  “Did you help her?” My mother was fiercely independent, to the point where she’d rather fall off of a ladder backwards than ask for a hand.

  He rolled his eyes. “No. I love to see crazy moms fall down attic stairs with their arms full of luggage.” He strode into my very feminine room and filled it up with his big, beautiful guyish being. He picked me up and swung me around, and it felt as good as I always imagined it would. “After I helped her get everything down, I came to check on you. I kind of hoped you would still be in your towel.”

  I popped a hard kiss on his mouth. “When did you become such a pervert?”

  “I guess you’re rubbing off on me. I made you something.” He pulled a jewel case out of his jacket pocket. It was a new, thick, warm Carhart jacket. Mom and Thorsten had picked it up for
his birthday along with new gloves and a hat. I thought he would be offended, but Thorsten got all puffed up about how “working men need working clothes,” and Jake accepted them happily. I loved Thorsten so much sometimes.

  “Did you make me a mix?” I hopped from foot to foot again. What can I say? Jake Kelly awakened my inner dancer.

  “Yea.” He put his hands on my hips and held tight. “No screaming, and just enough whiny boys to keep you happy.”

  “Thank you, Jake.” I kissed him. “I’ll listen to it on the way to Paris.” I noticed the new watch I bought him. “Let me see that.” I pointed.

  He gave me the watch, and I spun the knobs expertly. I loved the tiny mechanisms on watches, and I loved the rapid spin of the hands around the face when you changed the time.

  “Um, you’re like six hours off.” Jake glanced at the watch face.

  “Paris is six hours off,” I clarified. “Six hours later than we are.”

  “Oh.” He looked at it again. “It’s weird that we’ll be in totally different time zones. Like, you’ll be right in the middle of your day when I’m waking up.”

  It sounded very melancholy, whether Jake meant it that way or not. “It’s not for a long time.”

  “I was just making a time-based observation.” He took the watch out of my hand and wrapped it around his wrist. “I want you to do this. You need to get some more traveling under your belt so you’ll be ready for Italy. I’m not going to be any help.”

  I loved that he took the idea of Italy so seriously. “Okay. Maybe we should take Italian next year.” Jake had discussed doing Share Time, meaning he’d go half the day to the academic high school and half the day to technical school, like I did. He was currently enrolled full time in the tech school we both went to, but it wasn’t very academically challenging.

  “Ooh la la.” He nuzzled my neck.