Jake Undone (17 page)

Tarah, Ryan and me at night. He and I would sometimes linger, staying up late, eating ice cream or a dessert

I made while we talked in the kitchen.

Our conversation topics became more personal, too. He opened up more about his childhood. I learned

that he actually grew up in Chicago, not Boston and that his mother had been a drug addict as a teenager but

straightened up when she met his father. Even more surprising: the fact that the sister he is close to, only

came into his life eight years ago because she had been given up for adoption when Jake’s mother was

fifteen. He told me a story that blew me away about how he first met her accidentally during a bizarre

chance encounter in a cemetery.

It was adorable how his eyes would light up when he talked about his twin nieces. He used to babysit

them when they were infants and shared a lot of funny memories about those days; it thoroughly amused

me to picture this tough-looking guy changing diapers and getting spit up on.

We had a lot of laughs and sometimes, I would catch his eyes lingering on mine or traveling down to

my mouth. These were subtle hints that a part of him wanted more, even though something was obviously

holding him back.

Every night, he would go back to his room, and I would go to mine, replaying everything we had talked

about. Despite my vow to bottle up my feelings for him, they were still growing stronger than a batch of sea

monkeys trapped in a jar.

***

The last Wednesday of the semester rolled around, and when I turned my final exam into Professor

Hernandez, I knew that this one wasn’t going to be an A. In fact, I hadn’t even completed the last two

problems. Maybe it was because Jake and I had done more talking lately than studying or because secretly, I

wanted this last punishment from him.

That night, when Jake arrived home from work, I stood in his doorway with my laptop.

He was taking off his jacket and looked amazing in a black button down shirt that was open slightly at

the top. He smelled of cologne mixed with cold air, and it annoyed me that my body would consistently

react to him in a way that was not befitting a platonic friend.

He hung up his jacket and looked over at me. “What’s up?”

“I got my grade.”

A slow and devious smile spread over his face because he could tell from my expression that it wasn’t

good. He held out his hand. “Let’s see it.”

I turned the laptop toward him, and he gasped. “Sixty-nine!”

Of all numbers, I know.

“Nina Kennedy…that is perversely horrible,” he said trying to stifle his laughter.

“I know it is! But it still brings me to a B average for the semester.” I feigned a smile.

He didn’t look too pleased with my answer. “In all seriousness, why did you bomb so badly?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just got lazy. I knew with the other grades, I’d get at least a C+ average no

matter what, and I haven’t been sleeping well the past few days.”

“That’s no excuse. You could have had a B average too if you had done better on this one,” he said in a

serious tone.

I sighed. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

His frown turned into a slight smile, and he seemed to perk up real fast, smacking his hands together.

“That being said, I’m fucking stoked it wasn’t an A.” He was now beaming.

“I know you have been waiting for this.”

Jake scratched his head, spun around searching for his laptop, then lay on the bed, kicking his feet up.

“You don’t have classes tomorrow, right?” he asked as he typed.

“Nope…done until after Christmas.”

His smile grew bigger as he clicked away. When I walked over to the laptop, he shut it and waved me

away. “Get outta here. You can’t see this.”

I stood across from him nervously tapping my foot, watching him type and wondering what he was up

to. “What are you doing, Jake?”

“I’m planning our day tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just give me one little hint?”

“All I will say is that you need to be ready very early in the morning, like five-am. Can you do that?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He continued typing. “Good. I have to take tomorrow off from work for this.”

“You’re taking time off from work to spend the entire day scaring the shit out of me?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Seriously? This is a day trip?”

“I have the time.”

“Can you please just tell me what we are doing? Come on, I am starting to freak out.”

“What else is new? No way. You’ll find out soon enough.”

I made sure to shower that night because I wouldn’t have the chance to do it in the morning. Under the

water, my heart was palpitating, filled with anxiety over tomorrow. It had been too long since I had faced

my fears on Jake’s terms and tested my nerves. Not to mention, I had an ominous feeling about this one.

When I got back to my room, low and behold, there was an origami bat greeting me on the nightstand.

He would always wait for me to take a shower, so he could sneak one into my room.

When I opened it and saw what it said, my heart nearly skipped a beat:

For our last stint,

I will give you a hint.

It’s a windy city…

Where Jake was itty bitty.

He was taking me home to Chicago.

***

Maybe by some miracle there would be a terror threat or a medical emergency, and this spaceship would

stay on the ground. Actually, I was probably going to become the medical emergency. That was my last

hope because the passengers had boarded, and the doors to the Boeing 737 were now closed, trapping us all

inside.

Officially out of control of my life. Why did I let him do this to me?

Because I would do anything he asked me to.

“Hold my hand, Nina. Squeeze it as tight as you need to. Breathe,” he said.

The smell of the engines turning on reminded me of burning cheese.

With the way I was breathing in and out and the way Jake was squeezing my hand, row nine, seats E

and F, looked more like a labor and delivery area.

Even the flight attendants were seated now in those strange side seats, belted and useless. Their fate was

in the same hands, those of a man who might have just had a couple of whiskeys in the airport lounge.

Forget the elevator, this was the single most terrifying moment of my life. Flying was at the very top of

the list of things that scared me. As queen of the “what ifs,” I created too many possible scenarios of what

could go wrong and couldn’t even wrap my head around them all.

As the jet taxied toward the runway, my breathing had gotten completely out of control, and my entire

body shook involuntarily. How was this thing going to possibly lift off the ground and stay up in the air? I

knew nothing about the mechanics of the situation, and even if properly explained, it likely would still not

seem logical.

Rosary beads in hand, the old lady across the aisle made the sign of the cross. She certainly wasn’t

helping my situation in the least bit.

Jake could see he was losing me fast. I was starting to hyperventilate. He reached into his trusty black

backpack of doom and took out a brown paper bag. “Breathe into this.”

It wasn’t helping, because I had myself convinced I couldn’t breathe and panicked, which fed the

hyperventilation.

As the plane picked up speed, the concern in his eyes grew when my breathing became shallow.

The last thing I remembered before we were completely airborne was Jake bending down to tie his

shoes. How bizarre, I thought, for him to do such a thing when I am on the verge of collapse. I soon

realized that he wasn’t tying his shoes.

He was untying mine.

Near hyperventilation morphed into uncontrollable and hysterical laughter, as he stayed bent down

attacking my feet in the worst foot tickle ambush of my life.

I fidgeted in my chair and kicked him repeatedly, crying tears of laughter, and so was he.

“Jake…stop!”

“Stop.”

“Stop.”

“Stop.”

“Stop” was all I could manage to say in between my cackling and hitting him. It was not an exaggeration

to say that the entire plane was looking at us like we were nuts.

By the time he finally did stop, we were at cruising altitude, and my nerves calmed down after realizing

that we had not crashed upon takeoff. His tickles had distracted me so much that it was impossible to focus

on anything else.

My breathing was still heavy, but I was no longer close to hyperventilating. I finally turned to him worn

out. “Why on Earth would you do that to me?”

“I had no choice. There are only so many things I can do from this seat to get your mind off your fear.

You can only handle one thing at a time. I figured if I made you totally lose it that way, you couldn’t

possibly become scared enough to panic.” He could see I was starting to crack a smile and returned it. “It

worked…didn’t it?”

“I guess. But don’t ever do that again to me.”

He flashed a wicked grin. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to save you from yourself.”

A few minutes later, my breathing had calmed down significantly, and I gave in to the fact that I had no

choice but to try to relax.

Jake took his iPod out of the backpack and handed it to me. “Here. I made you a playlist for the ride.”

He scrolled down to it, and I could see it was titled,
Crash and Burn.

“Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome.”

I put the headphones on and breathed through
Leaving on a Jet Plane
by John Denver.

When the next song played, I didn’t quite get it until the chorus:
I’m Goin’ Down
by Mary J. Blige.

I looked at him and shook my head. He was listening to my iPod and took off his headphones for a

moment. “Mary J. Blige?”

I nodded and rolled my eyes.

He snickered and returned the headphones to his ears, lying back and closing his eyes again.

The next song, in typical Jake fashion, completely threw me for a loop. It was a mellow country tune

about how the chances of surviving at love are slim, comparing it to an airplane that people wouldn’t get on

if they knew the odds of crashing were high. Yet, despite knowing the odds, people get on board in love all

of the time. The song was aptly titled,
If Love Was a Plane
by Brad Paisley.

I looked over at him, and he looked back at me and smiled. I wasn’t sure if he realized which song I

was on or if it even had any meaning to him. But it had meaning to me. I wished that he knew how strong

my feelings were and that I would be willing to risk anything to be with him. Hell, in my mind, I was doing

it right now on this vessel to Mars. Despite whatever was stopping him from taking the next step with me,

nothing had been able to prevent me from needing him, not even knowing that he was hiding something

from me.

The drink cart was parked in front of our row, and Jake wouldn’t let me order anything but a Bloody

Mary to relax. Of course, the older, busty flight attendant licked her lips and made a flirtatious face before

handing him his beverage and moving past us. He smiled back at her, and this prompted me to down my

drink, which immediately went to my head.

He lifted my empty glass. “Thirsty?”

“Yes.”

The two hour flight seemed to take forever, but when the pilot had put on the fasten seatbelt sign, and

the old lady across the aisle had taken out her rosary beads, I knew we were close to landing.

The turbulence from losing altitude brought my panic symptoms back in full force. My ears were

popping. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed my hand because he knew I needed it.

One jolt in particular forced me to squeeze his hand even harder. He surprised me when he reached

over me, locking both of my hands in his. “It’s almost over, Nina. You did good,” he whispered in a

soothing tone.

I focused only on the warmth of his grip, melting my body like butter, to get me through the slow

descent. When we finally touched down, I looked over at Lady Rosary. We smiled at each other and

simultaneously made the signs of the cross.

CHAPTER 14

I was so incredibly happy to be back on land. We had no bags to retrieve, so Jake and I made it out of

the crowded airport in no time. It was energizing to feel the air of a foreign city on my face as we exited the

sliding doors. This was a place I probably would have never otherwise visited over the course of my life,

and again, I was grateful that Jake had pushed me this far.

Sinatra’s
My Kind of Town
, the song about Chicago, played in my head as giddy excitement to explore

this new city built up inside me.

We hopped into a waiting cab, and he told the driver to take us to Willis Tower.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

I spoke too soon about being grateful for his pushing me and had been hoping to catch a break for the

rest of the trip. I took my phone out to google it and soon learned that Willis Tower was the site of a famous

Chicago landmark known as the “The Ledge,” a glass box that extends out from the building’s Skydeck,

1,300 feet in the air. Apparently, even people who are not normally afraid of heights get scared standing on

this thing.

He leaned over my shoulder. “So, you figured it out, hey, Sherlock?”

“Haven’t I had enough torture for one day?”

“We’re just going to do this one thing, and then I promise, the rest of the day, we’ll just chill.” He