Drowning. I'd been drowning and didn't realize it. After Jack's rejection, not only was I mad at him, but waves of forgotten feelings had surfaced. A tightness in my chest, my lungs filling with water as the current took me far from the familiar island of my own apathy.

Grace used to leave me home by myself even as a child, off working or drinking or committing fraud or who knew what. One time, I fell down the stairs and broke my arm but didn't tell anyone about the pain until a week later. And now I thought... I'd always hated Grace for her absence, but what about my dad? He might've been physically there, but why hadn't he noticed the way I'd swallowed my tears, the awkward way I moved my arm? Why had it taken him a week to realize I wasn't fine?

You're going through a lot.

Words both Jack and Psychologist #5 had said. And maybe they were right. Except not just now. Maybe I'd always been going through a lot, but no one had taken the time to notice.

Especially not me.

Against my better judgment, I saved Penelope's number in my phone as "Sociopath #2". Against my better judgment, I texted her back. And received clear instructions only a minute later.

From Sociopath #2:

5 pm. December 11. Get ur $$$

December 11. My birthday, and she knew it. Mine and Jack's birthday.

My phone buzzed. Penelope again. This time, she sent coordinates. They led to a state park. An hour and a half away from Seattle. Trails with waterfalls and abandoned railroad tunnels. The sort of thing Dad and Greta would go to on the weekend to hike at.

I texted her back: How do I know you're not going to kill me?

From Sociopath #2:

Can't win the pageant if I'm charged with murder first.

Well. I finally knew what I'd be doing to celebrate turning 18.

Maybe I was like Grace. Maybe I'd never change. And the second thing, following stubbornness, universal to all versions of Romy Nakamoto Pereira:

She'd do anything for a thrill.

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The second unexpected text of the night:

From Jackass:

why did you try to kiss me?

I didn't bother to respond. Maybe it was my turn to pull a Jack and ignore him.

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After the last bell of the day rang, I headed to the bus stop I waited at nowadays. Stared at the stop on the other side of the street I used to wait at when I went to the flower shop right after school. Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed someone. Slouched posture and messy brown hair.

Jack.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not caring how loud I sounded.

Without looking at me, he grabbed my wrist and led me away from the bus stop. Down the sidewalk. Toward a pond by our school people skipped class to go smoke at, surrounded by trees and chirping birds.

"I repeat," I said, yanking my wrist away, "what are you doing here? Inviting me to get stoned by the pond? Because I'm busy today, just so you know."

He turned. I had no intention to give him any ounce of consideration today. Not even when he finally looked at me with an unexpected softness in his eyes.

Since when did just his presence make me dizzy?

He pulled out his phone. Seconds later, mine buzzed.

From Jackass:

why did you try to kiss me?

"Sorry," I said, "but if you didn't want me to, you could have pulled away. Or maybe told me hey, Romy, you're kind of drunk right now, so don't. But instead—"

From Jackass:

answer the question.

"Excuse me?" We stood at the start of the trail leading to the pond. Sunlight streamed through the trees above us, casting fragmented light over Jack's golden brown hair. I was honestly getting sick of these text message conversations, but Jack was a brat both over text and out loud, so maybe it made no difference.

"You were such a tease," I laughed. "Leaning in closer. Putting your hand under my chin. And now you're asking why I tried to kiss you? Why did you try to kiss me? Answer that question."

He didn't. He stood there, motionless, staring at the blue strings of his hoodie.

"Let me guess, you were feeling particularly sentimental?"

He glared at me.

"Good. Be mad."

Then he went back to typing on his phone again. This time, he didn't hesitate before sending the text.

From Jackass:

you have feelings for me.

I burst out laughing. "Feelings for you? Okay, Mr. Texts Me When He's Drunk And Says He Likes Me So Much. If anyone has feelings, it's you."

From Jackass:

you wanted to kiss me.

"Doesn't have to mean anything. No offense, but I think you know I'm not the romantic type. Eli had to learn that the hard way."

Instead of a glare, the softness returned to Jack's eyes. He looked like a sad puppy who'd just been hit. And it didn't seem like one of his fabricated facial expressions, either. I felt weirdly nervous, a pent up energy building inside me with no place to go.

"Don't give me that pout when you're the one playing games," I murmured. "Messing with my head."

Silence. Until, finally:

From Jackass:

that's what you do. mess with my head. use me for your own amusement when i've told you things i don't tell anyone.

"So have I."

We hadn't even made it to the pond. No, we were having an argument right here on the street. It must've looked ridiculous. Totally sociopathic. Me raising my voice at a guy who didn't speak, eyes glued to his phone until I pissed him off enough to earn one of his signature glares.

I hadn't even noticed how long he'd been typing until my phone buzzed. His longest text yet.

From Jackass:

you go back and forth and say we're friends and then accuse me of liking you and then say i'm not just amusement to you and then you try to kiss me and now you say you don't have feelings at all and i don't know what you want from me if that's the case.

From Jackass:

why can't you just make sense?

"Calm down, run-on sentences," I said. "And speak for yourself."

He glared at me with the intensity of a thousand burning suns, sending a hit of adrenaline down my spine. He stepped closer to me. I stepped back. He stepped closer. I stepped back.

But his response came as another text.

From Jackass:

go to hell.

I stepped forward. Raised my head at him. Put my hand under his chin the same way he'd done to me last Friday. "Doesn't sound as hot as when you said it out loud."

Within a second, he walked away. Stormed off like the dramatic brat he was.

"Good," I said. "Leave. Maybe I'll go die in the woods on our birthday."

He turned around, his eyes narrowed in confusion as if saying, What are you talking about?

"Penelope says she has my money. You know, the money she owes me from destroying the shop? She invited me to go get it on December 11th. I'd say there's a fifty fifty chance she tries to pull some sacrifice shit on me and dumps my body in the forest. Especially if Anika isn't there to keep her in check."

Jack scrambled for his phone.

From Jackass:

you've lost your mind!

Wow. His first ever exclamation point.

I shrugged. "I'm going for my money."

From Jackass:

and you want me to come with you.

"Not really. Just thought I'd let you know in case I end up dead in a ditch."

Jack, to put it simply, looked horrified.

From Jackass:

your lack of consideration for your own life astounds me.

Maybe. I didn't know why I kept making the same mistakes. I didn't know why I didn't care.

Another silence. That pent-up energy in my gut was building to a boiling point, but Jack, not so much horrified anymore, stared at the leaves above us. Brows furrowed, deep in thought before returning to his phone.

He was seriously about to hit the record for who had texted me the most. Ever.

From Jackass:

if i come with you, will you tell me why you tried to kiss me?

"You'd really be down to come with me if you get your answer?"

Maybe at this point he was so bored out of his mind he, too, would do anything for a thrill.

He nodded. Then waited a moment, gesturing toward me as if to say, Go on.

"As if it couldn't be more obvious," I sighed, trying to make my voice as flat as possible. Was this morally right, bringing Jack into this mess? Did me considering this mean I cared? Not cared about being right, but cared about him?

Or... did I know the only way I'd get my money was if I had a witness with me?

"What you told me about how I hang out with my friends only because they're amusing to be around," I began. "That was true. Then I realized it was true with literally everyone except for you. Because you... you're amusing to be around, sure, but I guess somewhere along the way, we've become friends."

I'd wanted to answer as if it was a factual essay. An assignment for school. Neutral, dry, and clear-cut. But, despite how much I tried to distance myself from my words, I was increasingly swallowed by the urge to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.

So much for my bad bitch energy. My neck was getting hot. Jack's eyes widened at my sudden shift.

"Maybe I don't want us to stop being friends," I admitted. "And maybe I tried to kiss you because I like you too, jackass."

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A/N: So, Jack has gone back to texting. Did anyone miss the "From Jackass"?   

This chapter is dedicated to mzhxu21 for their many comments, my favorite being from chapter 15, "a book shouldnt make me feel this strong urge to beat someone in particular or cry in anger should it?" 😅  I hope this dedication is a way to make it up to you!