“I was so alone and scared for so long and you made it a little easier to bear. You make me forget,” Lola whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happening between us. It scares me. In a good way,” she added at his look.
He pressed his lips together and nodded, letting his forehead drop to hers, his arms around her. “Me too. My life doesn’t suck quite so much since we started hanging out. Sorry. That sounded lame. I’m not good at stuff like this.”
Lola drank in the sight of Jack, feelings things she couldn’t put names to. She wanted to laugh and cry; she wanted to run to him, and at the same time, run as fast as she could away from him. Her fingers itched to trace the line of his cheekbone, to feel the softness of his lips against her flesh. She wanted him to hold her, wrap his arms around, and she wanted to fall asleep within his arms.
Jack touched her lips with his fingers, caressed her cheek. Lola turned her face into his palm and closed her eyes. A sense of peace flowed over her, sheltered her from reality.
After a moment, he dropped his hand. “I’ll walk you home. I have to let Isabelle know. Be right back.”
Lola examined the framed photographs while Jack talked to his sister. There were four of them; all of Isabelle, and two with Jack as well. No mother, no father. Jack’s expression was somber in each of them; his eyes large and sad. Isabelle had a small smile on her lips and her brown eyes shone. Complete opposites of one another in looks and dispositions.
It was plain to see even as a small boy he’d carried a heavy burden on his shoulders. Lola stared at his younger image, an ache in her chest. If only she could take some of the burden away. Lola cocked her head. Maybe she did.
***
Lola’s unease intensified the closer they got to her house. She pictured Bob waiting up for her, drunk and ready to retaliate for her fleeing earlier. Her feet dragged and she became quiet.
The streets were empty, lights in most houses out for the night. It was past midnight and the temperature had dropped considerably.
“You don’t have to go back.”
She glanced at Jack, saw he was serious. “Yes. I do. I have nowhere to go.”
He stared across the street, at Sebastian’s house. “I hate this, Lola,” he muttered.
Lola’s gaze followed his. Sebastian sat on the porch swing of his house, watching them. His face was in shadows, but Lola could feel his eyes on her; could feel the hurt and incomprehension rolling from him to her. He stood; waiting for something, waiting for her.
Jack looked at her, expression neutral. “Is there anything I need to know about you two?”
Lola’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No! Nothing like that. We just…we used to be best friends, but we don’t talk much anymore and…it’s awkward. With everything at home, I just…”
“Pushed everyone away?”
“No,” she denied. Jack’s eyebrows lifted. Don’t kid a kidder, his look said. “I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t remember,” Lola finished lamely.
“That seems to happen to you a lot,” was his dry response.
Not until Bob it hadn’t.
Jack lowered his head to look her in the eye. “If he hurts you, you call me, okay? You have my phone number.”
She nodded, anxiety accelerating her pulse. She didn’t want to go inside. Lola never wanted to go inside that house again. Jack understood. He knew what could happen.
Jack pressed his lips together and spoke low, “I don’t want to leave you. You promise me you’ll call me, Lola. Promise.” Her head jerked in what would have to pass for affirmation.
He exhaled loudly. “If you can’t get to a phone, you go to him.” He nodded in Sebastian’s direction. “Promise me.” Jack’s tone was urgent, his fingers dug into the flesh of her arms.
A lump formed in her throat. Lola whispered, “I promise, Jack.”
He stared down at her, brows lowered. Jack wiped her eyes Lola hadn’t been aware were wet and turned his back on her, fading into the shadows of night.
Lola watched him go, feeling bereft. It felt like a part of her, the best part, had been severed.
Sebastian reached her and touched her shoulder. “Everything okay?”
Lola looked at him. He had on pajama pants and a sweatshirt. His face was tired. She didn’t answer. She didn’t feel like lying.
“I was waiting for you. I was worried about you.”
Lola searched the house for signs of movement, for the glow of a television screen. All was dark. He was in there, waiting for her. Lola shivered, knowing it to be true.
“Lola?”
She took a deep breath.
“What’s going on? Are you and Jack dating or something?”