Jazz took a seat across from her first-year college roommate. Two years later, and she and Marcia still met up at least once a week for lunch and coffee, going over their lives and making sure that they hadn't missed anything.
"Hey!" Jazz said. "So, what's new?"
"I'm engaged!" Marcia announced with a shriek, offering her manicured hand out for Jazz to see the sparkling diamond sitting on her left finger.
"No! He proposed already?"
"He did!" Marcia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "And, thank you, Jazz, so much for introducing us."
"Oh, you're welcome," Jazz said. "You and Kwan just seemed like such a good fit."
"A guy like that, Jazz, I don't know why you didn't keep him all to yourself. He probably would have gone for you."
Jazz shrugged. "He just wasn't right for me. Because he was right for you, obviously!"
Marcia tapped her fingers on the table. "Jazz, who is right for you? This whole time I've known you, you've never met anybody."
"I've been on dates," Jazz said. "It's just never been what I wanted. And I don't need a man right now. I don't. There's plenty of time for that."
"Are you sure there's no one that you want?"
"I'll know him when I meet him, I'm sure," Jazz said, fiddling with her coffee cup, opening and closing the lid.
"Are you sure you haven't already met him?"
Jazz frowned. "Who are you talking about?"
"The entire time I've known you, there's only been two guys constantly in your circle. Your brother –"
"Ew."
"And Tucker."
"My little brother's best friend. I've known Tucker pretty much our whole lives. At this point, he's family."
Marcia held up her hands. "Don't bite my head off. I'm just saying … Maybe something to think about."
But it wasn't something to think about, Jazz thought, jabbing her fork into her salad. She and Tucker were ghost hunting partners, taking the perimeter while Danny and Sam were on the inside. He'd fixed her computer and she'd tutored him in English. When he was single, she was his anti-third wheel on Danny and Sam nights. She and Tucker had been friends for so long that she couldn't even conceptualize being anything else.
Tucker Foley was her friend and that was that.
They don't cancel other plans
Tucker picked up the phone. "Jazz, hey! What's up?"
"Are you free tonight?"
He wasn't, technically. He and Danny had been talking about a video game night in, barring any ghost attacks. It wasn't a plan that was set in stone and it wasn't something important – he and Danny had video game nights all the time. It wouldn't be a big deal if he weren't able to make it to tonight's.
"Yeah, pretty much, what's up?"
"So, I have a thing that I need to attend with the psychology department. It's pretty lowkey. A lecture and then afterwards, drinks and some snacks."
"You want me to go?"
"Professor Keaton is the worst lecturer ever," Jazz complained. "He puts me straight to sleep! Please, Tucker, you're the only person that can keep me awake through that."
Tucker was already texting Danny that he couldn't make it tonight.
"Promise me it's not black-tie or anything," Tucker said, though he was sure his suit was still clean from the last time that she'd tricked him into doing that for her.
"A clean shirt is all a require," Jazz said. "Cross my heart."
"All right. Text me details."
"I will! Tucker, thank you!"
"Nasty Burger is on you next time," Tucker said.
"Ha, we'll see. You owe me more favours than I owe you."
Tucker rolled his eyes, knowing the answer to the question before he asked, "Are you keeping score, Jazz?"
"Of course! See you tonight, Tucker!"
"See you tonight."
He hung up his cell phone, opening up his dresser to check for clean shirts. He found one that Jazz couldn't possibly object to, and his phone vibrated with a text back from Danny.
Danny: She better be some hot date
Tucker: You have no idea
Not that Tucker would ever tell Danny that he was blowing him off for his sister. There were too many years of sibling rivalry between them for Tucker to want to poke that particular bear. His phone buzzed again.
Jazz: Meet me outside my dorm at 7:30. We'll walk from there
Tucker: I'll be there
He was always there for her.
Have conversations with nothing but their eyes
"Is everyone in position?" Danny's voice rang over their earpieces and Jazz adjusted hers.
"We're ready," the three of them confirmed and Jazz adjusted the ecto-gun in her hands.
She really should be studying but she was their back-up in ghost hunting. As a Fenton, it was in her blood and, as an overprotective big sister, she would prefer to hover over Danny when she knew he was about to do something stupid. Not that Danny was ever not doing something stupid.
"Stay focused," Danny said. "No mistakes. Skulker never goes down without a fight."
Jazz's eyes swept across the windows and doorway visible to her, looking for any movement.
"We're ready, Danny!" Sam said insistently. "Go!"
Jazz stood stock-still, watching lights flicker about the windows, knowing what was happening but knowing that she wasn't supposed to be inside. She was supposed to be here, ready, waiting, and she hoped that she wasn't needed. If she was needed, it meant that Danny, Sam, and Tucker had failed – probably not far behind Skulker, still, but behind. With one final burst of brilliant light, her earpiece crackled.
"Skulker's down. Jazz, get in here!"
Jazz bolted at the sound of Danny's voice, swinging into the large room where most of the battle had taken place, taking in the situation as quickly as she could. Danny looked a little singed, as he nearly always did, but it was Sam that he was focused on. The petite girl had clearly taken a hit – nothing incapacitating, judging by how she was swearing at Danny and how it was his fault. Jazz glanced at Tucker, who was rolling his eyes. He caught her gaze and with the slightest eyebrow raise, she knew how much he was making fun of his best friends. Jazz looked at them and then back at him, letting him know that she thought their theatrics were more funny than annoying.
"Jazz, can you patch up Sam?" Danny said, breaking into her and Tucker's conversation.
"Danny, it's a little bit of blood, not a big deal! Leave her alone! She's making eyes at Tucker."
"Ew, gross. That's my sister."
Jazz pointedly didn't look at Tucker as she knelt next to Sam, digging into her bag for the small first aid kit she always carried. This time, she didn't want to know what words she'd find swimming in Tucker's eyes.
They don't hear each other's names and forget to concentrate
Tucker bent over his textbook, rubbing his temples, and trying not to let his brain bleed out of his ears. Second week of his second year and he was already so deep in homework that he knew that he'd be dead before Thanksgiving. He kept his head down, though, running his finger along the slick, fresh pages. Mrs. Knowles was a notorious hard-ass and she'd definitely had her students hit the ground running. If he didn't stare at this book until his eyes started to bleed and then force himself to keep reading, he would never pass this class. He dutifully made notes on his laptop, going overboard with details, trying to make sure that he could cram everything in. It needed to be neat; it needed to be organized. And, to Tucker's surprise, he started to understand every word that he read. He remembered terminology, he remembered concepts, and it all clicked!
And it happened in the infamous Mrs. Knowles' class!
He didn't let himself get carried away. He didn't let himself pack up and leave the library, since something had clicked for him. No, he had to keep his head down and keep going while this was happening for him. He couldn't remember the last time that it had happened to him!
And, then, two freshmen walked by and his momentum fell apart, all because the first freshman said: "You're so lucky that you got Jazz Fenton as your TA. Everyone says she's the good one."
All of a sudden, all Tucker could see was Jazz's red hair. All that he could think of was when the last time he talked to her was. His mind was suddenly so filled with Jazz that when he looked down at his textbook, not a single world of it made sense, as if the text had been transformed into something other than English in the moment he'd looked away. He closed his textbook and took out his phone.
Tucker: Hey
Jazz: Hey
Hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite
Jazz held the popcorn bowl on her lap, tucking her feet up underneath of her on her parents' couch. She didn't live with them anymore and, at some point since moving out at eighteen, she had started referring to her little apartment as home, but there was something comforting about being in the house that she grew up in. It was her mother's birthday, a special occasion where she and Danny had been asked to spend the weekend. And, so, on Friday night, she was on her parents couch with her bowl of popcorn and her cell phone, texting back the friends that had wanted her to come out tonight, while she was more focused on finding a movie.
The front door came flying open and Tucker poked his head in.
"Hey! Where's Danny?"
"I haven't seen him and I've been here since six."
"He told me he was going to be here tonight."
"Well, he lied to you. Popcorn?"
Tucker collapsed onto the couch next to her. She adjusted herself on the couch, putting the bowl in the middle couch cushion.
"What were you and Danny supposed to do tonight?" she asked.
Tucker quickly chewed his mouthful of popcorn. "Um. Nothing, much. This girl in one of my programming classes was throwing a party at her place, we were going to go check it out."
"You don't want to go alone?" Jazz asked.
"Not as much fun. When Danny Phantom isn't your wingman, you're just a weird geek."
Jazz laughed at him. "At least you stopped wearing the beret."
"I still have the beret," Tucker said. "I can whip it out sometime, if you miss it that much."
Jazz just laughed again. "You have so much more hair now, do you really think it would fit over … all of that?"
She gestured at the curls that now bounced around his head, something he'd been growing out since graduating high school.
"I am all that," Tucker joked.
"Your ego is all that," she snorted.
Tucker tossed a piece of popcorn at her. Jazz rolled her eyes and picked it off her sweater, popping it in her mouth. She had known Tucker and Danny too long to give into their theatrics. It had taken her too long to learn to try and control her temper and not give into them.
"Aww, come on, Jazz. You'd miss the ego if I weren't around."
"You'd hope I'd miss it," she snorted.
"I know you would."
She reached for popcorn, trying to distract himself from his eyes, though she couldn't look away. But, Tucker had the same idea and their fingers touched in the popcorn bowl. Through the years, she and Tucker had touched – had bumped into one another or fallen asleep in the backseat or had brushed hands while reaching for snacks before. This touch, though, sent zaps through her stomach and made her fingers feel electrified. She pulled her hand back, unable to make sense of what she was feeling, but what he most certainly wasn't.
Friends don't call you in the middle of the night
Couldn't even tell you why
They just felt like saying "hi"
Tucker left his group, staring up at the night sky, speckled with stars. It was late, later than it should be, and that always seemed to be the issue with group projects. Someone wasn't ready to start now and someone had class then and, so, the last minute, they ended up crowded into a study room late into a cold Wednesday night. Tucker pulled his headphones out of his pocket and plugged them in the phone, half thinking about what song he wanted to listen to, but he ended up in his contacts.
"Hello?"
"Hey, did I wake you up?" Tucker asked, but only as a formality. He'd woken Jazz up before when he'd call and he knew what she sounded like when she was disturbed. She sounded awake. Tired, but awake.
"No, finishing up a book. A novel, actually. I can't remember the last time I read something that wasn't a textbook." She laughed. "What's up? Everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's great," Tucker said, turning onto a lesser walked path. "What's your book about?"
"It's a trashy romance novel," Jazz admitted, without a hint of shame in her voice. "I just wanted something that wasn't forensic psychology and something where I knew it was going to have a happy ending. I'm a little tired of not having happy endings."
"Are you a romantic?" Tucker asked, teasing her.
"Maybe," Jazz said. "It's not like I've had any real experience with romance."
"Doesn't mean you don't know that you're a romantic," Tucker countered.
"I just think it's impressive. Not just how people can say what's on their mind but really know that they mean it."
"Jazz, you're, like, one of the most confident people I know. And the smartest. And the most stubborn –"
"Danny's worse than I am!" she interrupted, but Tucker wasn't entirely sure that he agreed with her.
"My point is, what don't you know?"
"Tucker –"
"Or is it just something you don't want me to know? Do you have a crush on someone?"
"I –" she said feebly, and Tucker grabbed onto it.
"You do! I won't tell Danny, I promise."
"I don't know," Jazz said firmly. "That's my problem. I can't figure out how I feel.'
"Like I said, you're smart."
Tucker unlocked his dorm room door.
"Where are you?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Just getting home."
"Oh. Want me to let you go?"
"No," Tucker said, taking the stairs because he knew the elevator would cut off his service.
"Just thought I was company for your walk."
"No. I mean, I don't know why I called, really, but, I want to keep talking to you. Unless you're trying to get rid of me," Tucker said, suddenly unsure.
"No. We can talk," she said, and the relief that flooded through him was something that he'd never quite felt before.
Not with any woman, let alone his best friend's sister.
Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys
Finding reasons not to leave
Trying to hide the chemistry
Drive a little too slow, take the long way home
Get a little too close
"Thank you, Jazz!" Danny said loudly.
"You're welcome," she said, turning in the driver's seat to watch him and Sam crawl into her backseat while Tucker flopped heavily into the passenger's seat. "No one throw up in my car, you understand?"
"We're not throw up drunk," Sam assured her, leaning forward enough so that Jazz could tell she was vodka drunk. "Just can't drive drunk."
"I'm glad you called me," Jazz said. "Where's everyone going?"
"My place," Danny said.
"No," Tucker said, "I'm not listening to you and Sam have drunk sex all night. Nope, nope, nope! Take me home, please, Jazz."
He turned his piercing eyes on her and Jazz said, "Yes."
She would have said 'yes' to him anyway, she was sure, but she was finding that she was having a hard time saying 'no' to him when he was looking at her.
"No having sex is my backseat," she said to Danny and Sam, trying to be loud and take control over herself again.
"No promises," Danny said.
"Get out and walk."
"You wouldn't abandon your poor, drunk, defenceless little brother, would you?"
"Defenceless!" Sam shrieked, her laughter filling the car.
Jazz smiled too because the thought of Danny being defenceless was amusing, and it was enough to distract her. She started up the car and headed out, listening to Danny, Sam, and Tucker talk over the night: who had done what and who was too drunk and who had definitely been part of the Danny Phantom fan club, much to Sam's annoyance. Jazz listened contentedly and drove on. Even though Tucker's apartment was technically on the way to Danny's, she didn't drop him off first, instead unloading her brother and his girlfriend.
"Thanks, Jazz!" they trilled again.
"Happy hangover," she wished them and Danny blew a raspberry.
"Don't worry about me."
As if Danny had ever given her a reason to not worry about him.
"I think," Tucker said, once Danny and Sam were in the front door of the apartment building, "you forgot to get rid of me."
"They were being more annoying," Jazz said, clinging to her feeble defence as soon as she thought of it. It was as good of a reason as any to not drop Tucker off first, though she wasn't sure she had a reason. A good reason? A bad reason? No, neither, no reason. She was logical and level-headed. She always had a reason.
"Usually that's my title."
"He's my brother," Jazz said, "he's always going to annoy me more."
She realized that she hadn't started driving again and she quickly started moving, turning away from the apartment building that Danny now lived in and continuing down the road.
"I live that way."
He sounded like he was smirking but Jazz didn't glance at him to confirm that. He sounded like he knew something and Jazz wasn't sure there was something to know. Or it could just be because he was drunk. Drunk people never tended to do what she wanted them to do.
"Maybe I just want to drive."
"All right," Tucker said. "Let's drive."
We do, but friends don't
Sam grabbed Tucker's phone out of his hand.
"Hey, give that back!"
"Who are you texting?" she demanded. "You haven't looked at Danny or me all day."
Tucker glanced over his shoulder but his best friend wasn't anywhere in sight, and so he just sighed and didn't fight Sam for his phone. He would, when Danny returned to their table in Nasty Burger, but Sam was his friend, and though he knew she'd never let him live anything down, he also knew that she would never betray any of his secrets.
"Jazz?" Sam said, her eyes flashing up to meet his when another text came through. "What are you talking to Jazz about?"
"We just talk, all the time," Tucker said. "Every day, actually."
"Every day?" Sam raised her eyebrows.
"Can I have my phone back?"
"No!" Sam leant over the table, his phone grasped tightly in her hand. "Jazz? Tuck, I mean, it crossed my mind that you had a crush on her, the way you looked at her, but if you're talking every day."
"I don't have a crush –"
"Does she like you back?" Sam interrupted. "What do you and Jazz have to say to one another?"
"And what do you mean the way I look at her?"
"Answer me! Or I'll tell Danny you're in love with Jazz," Sam threatened.
"Classes and books and music and friends and everything. She usually texts me on her morning break but if I don't hear from her by afternoon, I always text her, because I have to hear from her." When Tucker said it aloud, he realized how it sounded. "She tells me everything too."
"Does Danny know how much you talk to Jazz?"
Tucker shook his head. "I didn't want to. He's going to overreact and we're friends. We're just … It's not anything …"
"Not anything like what?" Sam pushed. "Come on, Danny's not going to be gone forever. We're friends, Tuck, tell me."
"I don't know."
"Is she just your friend?"
"What do you mean?" Tucker snapped.
"Do you think of Jazz in the same way you think of me? Do you feel the same way toward Jazz that you do me? We've never been anything more than that, even with how close we've always been so it's a pretty good benchmark for how you're feeling."
Tucker looked over his shoulder again. "Danny's coming."
Sam's sharp purple eyes pinned him down.
"You can call me later or I can go to your place or whatever. Give me my phone and don't tell Danny and we can talk later."
"Promise."
"Swear."
Sam slid his phone across the table and Tucker clasped it into his hands, pulling it close to his body and angling it up so that Danny couldn't see the screen when he took his place next to Jazz. Tucker opened her last text message.
Jazz: You can't make fun of me! When was the last time you were in the gardens?
Tucker: Never because I'm not a dork
He looked up at Danny and Sam but he wasn't really seeing them. He wasn't listening to anything they were saying. All he could think of was Sam's words. A crush on Jazz? He'd never thought about it, but the more he did think about it, the more that he could feel things clicking into place. Slowly, he'd stopped hitting on women. Slowly, he'd started to wait for her texts every day. Slowly, but surely, he'd just been wanting her. It had happened so slowly that Tucker hadn't realized it until it had snuck up on him, and now Tucker was sitting in Nasty Burger, staring at his best friend, and realizing that he had, somehow, fallen in love with Danny Fenton's sister.
They don't almost say "I love you"
"No, no, Tucker."
Even though Jazz was whining, she was letting him close her computer and put away her textbook.
"Do you have a test next week?" Tucker asked.
"No."
"Midterm?"
"No."
"Project due?"
"No."
"Anything aside from regular homework?"
"No."
"Then, what's one Friday night going to hurt?" Tucker asked. "When was the last time you went out on the weekend at all?"
"I don't know," Jazz admitted. She wasn't one for big parties. She liked the smaller get togethers that her friends would host at their own apartments, now that they had them, or the soirees that campus clubs would host.
"You and me, a bar, live music, you'll be home by midnight."
"Don't lie to me, Tucker Foley," Jazz said.
"All right, all right." He smiled, bright and wide and Jazz felt something that felt like butterflies in the pit of her stomach. "Two."
"Tucker."
"Later, if you don't leave right now," Tucker said. "Please, Jazz, let's go have some fun!"
She sighed but was up out of her desk chair. "Okay, but you have to let me change. I'm not going out in sweats."
"You could. The sweats look good," Tucker said, sliding into her desk chair. She noticed a change in his voice as he said, "But, you probably don't want the creep that hits on you while you're wearing your sweats."
Jazz frowned, opening her closet, half-thinking of what she should change into, and half-thinking about Tucker. "I don't want to get hit on."
Despite the subtle hints that her mother spread around the holiday tables, whenever Danny was sitting with Sam and Jazz was sitting alone. She tried not to think too much of it; she knew that her mother just didn't want to see her be lonely and she knew that her mother didn't want her to spend all of her time studying, though Jack and Maddie had always supported how important school was to her.
"Get out, I'm changing."
"I'll cover my eyes."
Like it mattered, Jazz supposed. She wasn't shy. She had no reason to be, though it had been a long time since she had been naked in front of a man. She'd changed in front of Danny before, though he usually covered his eyes and went rushing out of the room when she even mentioned that she was going to get changed. She imagined that it would be the same as Tucker. He'd practically grown up with Danny and it should be the same. Except, for those little butterflies and the blush she could feel on her cheeks that kept her facing her closet and while shimmying on dark blue jeans and pulling a blue top over her head. She ran her fingers through her hair and then turned around.
"Where are we going, anyway?"
Tucker grinned at her again and adjusted his jacket over his shoulders. He put his arm around his waist and they walked toward the front door.
"Trust me, Jazz."
She did.
"You're going to love it."
"I –" Jazz said and stopped herself, distracting herself with locking her door.
"I what?" Tucker asked.
She was about to say 'I love you' and then she'd stopped short. Tucker Foley? She didn't love Tucker Foley. She just didn't have it in her to love her little brother's best friend. She wondered where the errant thought had come from and then she dredged up just enough psych knowledge to pacify herself. The human brain was strange. She was thinking about her mother and dating and it was just she and Tucker going out tonight. It was enough.
She didn't love Tucker Foley.
When they're downtown somewhere, just a little drunk
Jazz's hair was so much redder under the bar's bright lights. She was sipping at a bright pink drink that, honestly, frightened Tucker a little bit. She was swinging her leg under the table and every so often, her ankle would brush his shin. It was the most innocent touch that she probably could have managed and Tucker was about to become completely undone. Since Sam had pointed it out to him, it was all he could think about, his body feeling electric every time she so much as looked his way.
Danny's sister.
All his life, she had been right there. She had been a know-it-all who never laughed at their jokes, who always rolled her eyes at their shenanigans. Jazz was that person, would always be that person, but there was a side to her that he had never noticed as a teenager. It was the side that made his heart double-thump whenever she texted him, the side who sat and listened to all of his problems when he needed her to, the side that he thought of first when he made a midnight phone call, needing to hear someone else's voice.
"Another round?" Jazz asked.
"My treat," Tucker said.
"I can't let you –" she protested.
"I dragged you out of your dorm room. I'll buy the drinks."
Jazz laughed. "All right, if you insist. You're not a bad date, Tucker."
Tucker snorted and then fled to the bar to pick up their next round. Maybe his snort had been believable. Maybe it was all coincidence that she had used the word date. He had never seen any hint of it in her behaviour at all. Everything that she had ever done was because they were friends and they were comfortable with each other. He had looked, his new feelings beating through him with every thump of his heart, and he was sure that they were just friends.
His phone buzzed in his pocket before their drinks were ready and he pulled it out.
Sam: What are you doing
Tucker: I'm at the bar
Sam: Alone? Dannys with me
Tucker: Jazz.
Sam: Date?
Tucker: No. Just friends.
Sam: Whatever. Call me tomorrow.
Tucker: K.
He collected their drinks from the bartender and headed back to their table. To his surprise, Jazz grabbed the drink from his hand, gulped it down, and then grabbed his hand in her own.
"Come on, Tucker, let's dance!"
He left his beer abandoned on the table, following her strong grip.
If Jazz wanted to dance, he'd dance.
They don't talk about the future and put each other in it
The room was spinning around her but Jazz didn't care. She was splayed out on her living room floor, the drinks she'd had with Tucker still coursing through her veins. He was right there next to her, head against hers.
"I had fun," he said.
"Me too."
"Would you rather have studied?" he teased.
Jazz turned her head and his nose was right there, rubbing against hers. She blinked lazily.
"No."
He grinned, lazily, like a cat. "I knew you'd have fun with me."
"I always have fun with you."
Jazz went back to staring at her ceiling. It was easier than looking him in the eye.
"It's funny," Tucker said, his voice low and serious, "how I've known you as long as I've known Danny but it's not until recently that I've started to actually know you."
She wanted to crack up, because all in all, it sounded a little nonsensical, but she understood what he was saying. She never would have considered him a friend back then. Sometimes, it still surprised her that she considered him a friend now, let alone how good of a friend that he had come to be.
"Well, we're friends now," Jazz said. "We're going to stay that way, right?"
"You'll remember me when you're successful and all my degree has gotten me is fry manager at Nasty Burger?"
Jazz laughed and swatted his arm. "You'll do better than that."
"Wasn't the part I was concerned about. What happens later?"
"Texting," Jazz said. "Of course. And, we live, like twenty minutes apart, but we still call each other all the time now and I don't think that'll change. Why would it?"
She risked turning her head again to look at him; Tucker was already looking back at her.
"Yeah, why would it change?"
"And, you'll always be Danny's friend. I mean, we're never going to get rid of each other. You're always going to be there. Even if you do smell like Nasty Burger."
That caused him to smile and whatever serious tension that had almost built between them crumbled. Jazz was relieved. She'd never considered Tucker not being there and she didn't know why he'd brought it up now, but it had more than proven to her that she didn't like the thought of a future without Tucker in it. No one to call at midnight, when she needed to hear a comforting voice on the other end of the line; no one to eat all of her popcorn; no one to complain about her movie choices, only to watch the whole thing with her. No one who could become everything that Tucker had come to be to her.
No, she and Tucker would always be friends.
And get chills with every accidental touch
If Tucker ever made it out of university, he was going to buy himself a bottle of real champagne. He was. It was too difficult and too hard and he had doubts that he'd ever make it out of here alive. He didn't even like wine all that much, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. That was what people did when they wanted to celebrate and if he ever graduated, he was going to want to celebrate.
But, there was no cause for celebration now. He was head down on a library table, wondering how an elective could be kicking his ass so badly.
"Don't tell me you're dead."
It wasn't surprising that Jazz had found him like this; she practically lived in the library, and he'd be lying if he said that he sometimes made sure that he was camped out near the room where her tutoring sessions took places, just so that he could catch her on her way out. But, today, he was on the opposite end of the library, hiding in the corner, hoping, for the first time in a long time, that Jazz wouldn't find him.
"No, not dead," Tucker said, picking his head up. "Suffering."
"What class?" Jazz asked and, before Tucker could tell her no, she was looking at his textbook. "Tucker, this is psych! Why didn't you ask me for help?"
"That's humiliating," Tucker said bluntly. "You're already a know-it-all and I didn't want to make it worse."
Jazz rolled her eyes. "I can help you."
"No."
"Do you want to fail this class?"
"No," Tucker said grumpily.
"Then you have to let me help you."
"No," Tucker whined.
"All right. Good luck."
"Jazz," Tucker called, the moment she'd turned away. "You're not allowed to bring this up later."
She took the seat next to him and brightly said, "No promises! Where are you getting confused?"
But she had patted his shoulder as she said it and the innocent gesture had him so on fire that nothing she said mattered.
Friends don't call you in the middle of the night
Couldn't even tell you why
They just felt like saying "hi"
Jazz put her phone on speaker and left it on the counter, pouring trail mix into the bowl.
"Hey," Tucker said.
"Hey," Jazz echoed. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing. Tuesday's not my big party night, you know that."
Jazz smirked. "It would be but you signed yourself up for an eight a.m."
"Everyone makes mistakes, Jazz," he scoffed. "What are you up to?"
"Trail mix, Drew Barrymore, psych studies," she replied.
"Your version of a party night," Tucker teased.
"Oh, leave me alone!"
"You called me!" Tucker said. "So, what's up? Why did you call?"
"Am I not allowed to call a friend?" Jazz asked, feeling defensive. "Why? Did you not want me to call?"
"I always want you to call, You don't ever have to worry about that, Jazz," Tucker said.
"Except for when Danny's around," Jazz said. "I don't … I don't talk to him about you."
"I'd be offended if I talked to him about you," Tucker said, laughing. "But Danny's always been so weird and protect about you that I just don't want him to get the wrong idea."
"Danny gets the wrong idea when I talk to anyone. He's more overprotective than Dad is."
Balancing her snacks, Jazz took herself to her living room. She curled up on her couch, bringing her throw blanket around her, but she didn't turn toward the movie that she had queued. Instead, she just listened to Tucker's voice.
"Yeah," Tucker agreed. "Do you think it's weird, though, that we don't tell Danny? It makes it seem like it's more than it is. Like we're not just friends."
"But we are just friends," Jazz said. "Danny's weird. We just agreed on that."
"Yeah, he's definitely weird," Tucker agreed.
But Jazz's mind suddenly weighed heavily and she felt as though she was the one who was weird. She didn't love Tucker Foley. He was her little brother's best friend. He was one of her best friends now too; he was an unexpected confidant. He was also a player – had been since had discovered girls as a young teenager. He was goofy and not her type at all. And yet …
And yet.
Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys
Finding reasons not to leave
Trying to hide the chemistry
Drive a little too slow, take the long way home
Get a little too close
"Thanks for this," Jazz said, crawling into the passenger seat of Tucker's car. "I just … can't believe I did this."
Tucker laughed at her, glad that it was his turn to do so. Usually the shoe was on the other foot and he and Danny and Sam were crawling into her car, piss drunk in the early hours of the morning.
"No puking in my car."
Jazz slammed the door shut behind her. "You have puked in my car twice."
"Okay, I see your point. Come on, put your seatbelt on."
Jazz reached up and half-heartedly drew her seatbelt across her body, her hands failing her at the last moments. Tucker took the seatbelt and buckled it for her.
"Rosé is a bitch. Oh my God. I'm going to feel this in the morning."
Tucker laughed again; he couldn't help but find the whole thing amusing as hell. "You're feeling it now."
"Yeah." Jazz rested her head against the window. "Take me home!"
"Okay, we're going home," Tucker said. He started driving and then he asked, "So, what was the occasion?"
"What?"
"Why were you drinking tonight?"
"It's Marcia's birthday tomorrow but she wanted to do drinks tonight and brunch tomorrow but, uh, screw brunch tomorrow, I think."
Jazz made a gulping sound and Tucker slowed, about to move over to the shoulder. The only good thing about being out this late was that there was no one for him to bother.
"Don't throw up."
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
She didn't sound fine and Tucker wondered if he sounded like that all the times she had picked him. He'd probably sounded worse, if he was being totally honest with himself. Still, he was relieved when they reached her apartment and Jazz unclicked her seatbelt, throwing open the door.
"Careful!" Tucker warned her but she waved him off. He'd never seen her so flippant before and he wondered if she'd honestly only been drinking wine all night.
She took a couple of crooked steps toward her door and Tucker hurriedly got out of the car, following her.
"Careful or you're going to fall over."
"Tucker, I can't find my keys," she slurred.
"Are they in your purse?"
"No," Jazz said, but she started rifling through it again.
"Coat pockets?"
"No," she said, nearly dropping her bag in an effort to get her hands into her pockets.
"Are they in your hand?"
"Oh." Jazz sighed heavily. "Oh, I am … I can't believe I did this to myself."
"Oh, don't worry. Even you're allowed to be an idiot sometimes."
He took the key from her hand and scanned her key fob, loading her into the elevator once they were inside. She leant heavily against the wall, bracing herself.
"You sure you're not going to be sick?"
"I'm fine."
"Can I walk you to your apartment anyway? Just to be safe."
She looked at him with her striking aqua eyes and Tucker wished he could have kissed her right then and there. But she was too drunk, too trusting, and he didn't want to ruin it. If he ever kissed her, it was going to be because she was looking at him with clear eyes and telling him she wanted to. He didn't want to ruin their friendship, not by kissing her while she was drunk. She might kiss him back just because she was drunk; she might hate him for take advantage of her. He would be in the wrong if he did it now.
The elevator door opened and she almost fell out into her hallway. He got his arms around her to get her walking upright and though he wanted to be better than that, he had to admit that he let his hand linger on her waist for half of a second too long, thinking about what it would be like if she was his girlfriend and if he knew for sure that she wanted to be kissed. Instead, he shoved the feelings away, because that wasn't what she needed from him right now; it might not be what she ever need from him.
Tucker finally got Jazz through her front door, watching as she made her way into her small kitchen.
"I think I'm going to die tomorrow."
Tucker didn't disagree.
Jazz turned her tap on and stuck her head under the water, taking large drinks of it. It was the most undignified that Tucker had ever seen her act and he had to admit that it was endearing to see Jazz let go of herself a little. He jingled his keys in his hand, wondering if he should go now, and her head shot up at the sound.
"Tucker, stay here," she commanded and he didn't even have time to reply before she had gone toward her bedroom.
Tucker didn't mind; what else was he going to do? Except for fill a water glass and turn off the tap that she had left running. When she came back, she was haphazardly in her pyjamas and Tucker drew up the strap on the tank top that had fallen down her shoulder. Her hand came up to cover his own.
"You're a good friend, Tuck."
He knew he was going to get himself into trouble and so he took his hand out of hers, offering her the water glass.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked her.
"Will you stay with me awhile?"
"You don't want to pass out in bed."
"Let's watch a movie," she suggested.
Tucker couldn't say 'no'. They ended up on her couch, watching a movie that he wasn't so sure he cared a whole lot about. Jazz chugged her water and then put her head down on his shoulder and that was the thing that he was focused on. She fell asleep quickly and Tucker wasn't surprised by that. He almost left but then decided that he couldn't disturb her. He'd close his eyes for a moment, give her a chance to move in her sleep, and then he'd slip away.
And that was when Tucker fell asleep himself.
We do, but friends don't
Jazz couldn't remember the last time that she had felt this awful. Her head hurt and her stomach hurt and she promptly decided, before she even opened her eyes, that this was how she died. She forced open her eyes and her eyes felt like they were nearly glued together. She rubbed at one and the simple motion of her arm made her half dizzy. This was why she was drank like a conservative grandmother.
She sat up and that was when she realized that she wasn't in her bed. She was on her couch, asleep on top of Tucker, and he was still passed out. She grabbed at the cup of water that was sitting on the coffee table but it was warm and stale tasting and did nothing to help her. Still holding onto the cup, Jazz staggered toward the kitchen, thinking that more might help and that more might be better. She also took a mental checklist of herself, because there was nothing scarier than getting drunk and waking up next to someone, even if she did trust that person completely.
She didn't want to have slept with Tucker drunk. She didn't want to believe that Tucker was the type of person that would have slept with her drunk either. And, she was right.
She refilled her water glass and then a buzzing started disturbing her. Not a buzzing inside of her head – and she supposed that she should be glad that she wasn't imagining buzzing – but one from her purse, which had been dropped on the kitchen floor last night. She stuck her hand inside, knowing it was her cell phone, and hating the fact that she was right.
"Hey, Jazz!"
"Marcia," Jazz groaned, wondering how her friend could possibly sound so awake.
"Are you coming to brunch? It's in an hour."
"Marcia, I'm about to die."
"So … Yes."
"No."
"It's my birthday!" Marcia exclaimed and Jazz could imagine the way that her eyes would look as she was pleading with her. "Come on!"
"I can't believe you."
"You're going to say yes," Marcia said.
Jazz didn't think of herself as a doormat. She wasn't the type of woman who tended to give in, even if it would make everyone else's lives easier. That being said, she had a ferocious soft spot for her friends, if only because she'd had so few people throughout her life that she could truly could as such. So, it didn't surprise her when, despite her nearness to vomiting, she agreed in the end – not appreciating Marcia's squeal.
"See you in an hour!"
"Okay," Jazz groaned.
An hour. She had an hour. And with that hour, she was going to take herself back to the couch, for at least half of it. She didn't need to wear make-up; she was probably still covered in last night's. When she flopped back on the couch, she woke up Tucker, who stared blearily around, like he didn't know where he was.
"Jazz," he murmured and then he rubbed at his eyes. "You okay? You sick?"
"Yeah but I'm going to Marcia's brunch thing." Jazz rested her head on the back of the couch, curling her legs up and then toppling all the way over so that she was laying down. She couldn't be sitting up right now. She was going to be sick.
"Are you going to live through that?"
"Probably." She squinted at him. "You didn't have to stay here."
"You fell asleep on me and I was worried about you getting sick during the night."
"Thank you," Jazz said.
"No problem. You need anything?"
"A whole bottle of painkillers and an excuse to not go."
"You promised and you're a sucker."
"Don't you mean a good friend?"
"Yeah, sure." Tucker patted her leg. "I'll get you painkillers though."
He pushed himself off the couch, fluffing out his afro and stretching. Jazz watched him, thinking about Marcia, thinking about good friends, and thinking about things that she had always told herself not to think about. But, here she was, hungover and dying, and Tucker had stayed with her all night. He had come to get her late into the night for no other reason than the fact that he cared about her and Jazz's stomach fluttered so violently that she almost threw up on her couch.
When Tucker came back with Advil and water, his fingers touched hers, and she felt the little zips of electricity that she associated with Tucker, but, for the first time, she understood. She got it. Marcia had been right. She'd been trying to tell herself the truth too and she had never understood it.
Jazz loved him.
Her little brother's best friend.
"I'll hang out for a few, drive you to brunch."
"You really don't have to," Jazz said quickly, because she wasn't quite sure what she was doing with herself anymore.
"Nah, I'm going to. You can't change my mind."
"Thanks, Tuck."
"Anything for you."
And he had no idea that she was now sitting here with momentous news.
"You look sick," Tucker said. "Are you sure you're okay to go out?"
"I'm going to have to be. Hopefully, she won't keep me stuck there for long."
Jazz buried her head in her hands, thinking that it was just so funny that he thought she was sick. Maybe it was better that he thought so; maybe, that was just it, and she'd get over it by the time she woke up this morning and the hangover left her. But, Jazz snuck a glance at Tucker, and the feeling overwhelmed her. He wasn't a best friend and, somehow, he had developed beyond that and she hadn't even seen it coming. She was someone who prided herself on her intelligence and Jazz didn't know how it happened without her ever knowing that it had happened.
"Come on, you should probably get dressed."
"Ugh."
Jazz pushed herself up off the couch, her knees feeling weak in a way that had nothing to do with the hangover, she was sure.
She'd get over it.
Or she wouldn't.
She had no idea what to do.
I keep telling myself this might be nothing
Tucker slunk off the couch and onto the floor. Being confused and half-miserable was easier on the floor than it was on the couch, for some reason. Sam slid into his spot, laying on her stomach and staring down at him. Tucker waited for her to talk first but she just stared at him, her darkly lined eyes as intimidating as she wanted them to be.
"She hasn't been talking to me as much,' Tucker said.
"So, you're over here moping," Sam said, and she nodded knowingly. "Why not? Do you know?"
"No," Tucker said. "I think she figured out how I feel."
"Just ask her about it," Sam said.
"Not everyone's like you and just can blurt out everything," Tucker said. "Besides, you got lucky, you and Danny have always been you and Danny, before you were even dating."
"Yeah but he's still Danny," Sam said. "Look, just ask Jazz why she's been more distant, you don't even have to confess your love."
"But what if I should? It's been so long and maybe I do just need to know." Tucker rubbed his eyes. "What if she doesn't love me back, though? It's the hardest thing to say!"
"I love you," Sam said. "It's not that hard at all."
"Uh, what am I walking into?"
Tucker jumped, pushing himself off the floor when he heard Danny's voice. He glanced at Sam and was glad that she looked equally surprised to see him.
"Something you guys want to tell me?" Danny asked, looking between Sam and Tucker. "'Cause I know I missed a lot but you two becoming a thing? I think I would have noticed that."
Sam patted Tucker's shoulder.
Tucker took a deep breath and looked between the two of them. He didn't want to let his feelings for Jazz go and maybe Sam was right when she said that she just needed to confront them, but he couldn't do that without talking to Danny first. He couldn't go behind his best friend's back; that just wasn't right.
"Danny? Can we talk?"
Danny glanced at Sam and then back at Tucker. "Are you dying or something?"
"No." Well, not yet, anyway. It might be all over for him by the time this conversation was over.
"Okay, I guess. Uh, let's go."
Tucker got off Sam's floor. He threw her one last longing glance but she just waved him off. Tucker followed Danny out of Sam's house, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"So, what's going on? What's Sam know that I don't?" Danny asked, and then his face twisted. "What did you and Sam manage to keep from me?"
"I … So, there's a girl," Tucker said, looking around the streets, as if Jazz would drive by on cue. "We've been texting a lot and seeing each other a lot and I'm really falling for her."
"That's why Sam was professing her love for you?" Danny asked.
"Ha, yeah, apparently it's supposed to be easy to say. Because I haven't said it to her yet. We've never even been on a real date but she means so much to me. Sam was telling me that I should tell her and see how it goes because being more with her is something that I want, rather than just friends."
"Go for it!" Danny said, enthusiastic and unaware. He clasped Tucker on the shoulder. "You're great! I'd date you if it weren't for Sam."
"We'd be a terrible couple," Tucker scoffed. "Can you imagine how messy our place would get?"
"Point." They walked in silence for a moment and then Danny asked what Tucker had been dreading. "Why'd we have to take a walk? Why did you tell Sam and not me?"
"Because of who it is."
Danny snorted. "Why would I care? Unless you're planning on hitting on my mom or something."
"No!"
"So –"
"Jazz," Tucker blurted, before he lost his nerve, well aware the whole time that Danny was someone who could hurt him, a lot, very easily.
Danny stopped cold on the sidewalk. "Oh."
Tucker stared right back at him. "Is that all I get?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess." Danny shook his head, running his hands through his thick black hair, like he always did when he was trying to think. "I'm kind of pissed off that you didn't tell me. Like, you're supposed to be able to tell me."
"You and Jazz have always been so protective and so weird over each other. You're the closest thing that I have to a sibling, man, and I was also worried that you'd hate me for being into Jazz."
"I don't hate you for that," Danny said. "I don't think I get it but I didn't even realize you guys were friends like that. And, Sam would tell me that I miss a lot and so I don't have to get it."
"That's cause she's sweet."
"Yeah." Danny scuffed his foot along the sidewalk and they started walking again. "Jazz really matters to you, then? Because she's my sister and I can't see her get hurt."
"Yeah. A lot. She matters a lot." Tucker stared at his shoes as they walked. It was a lot harder to admit than he wanted it to be. He meant it – he was sure that he did – and so he didn't know why it was so hard to get out. Maybe because he was talking to Danny; maybe because he'd never fallen for someone in the same way as he'd fallen for Jazz; maybe it was because he'd never fallen for a woman like Jazz before.
"So, what are you going to do?"
"I think the only thing I can do is tell her. I've been worried about her finding out for a while but I think that I need to know whether I'm just a friend to her or not. It'll suck but it's like ripping off a Band-Aid."
"God, it's weird to talk about Jazz like this."
"Sorry."
Danny shrugged. "Just quickly figure out who gets custody of me in the divorce, okay?"
"She can have you for Christmas and I get you for your birthday."
Danny laughed. "And, don't hurt my sister but don't let her hurt you, either."
"What do you mean?"
"Jazz is weird, right, really friggin' weird and she ghost hunts, Tuck. She's armed."
Tucker had never even considered that. "That right there is probably why I didn't want to talk to you. I knew you'd point that out."
Danny laughed again.
"We good?"
"We're good," Danny said. "One other question, though."
"Yeah?"
"When were you planning on talking to Jazz because depending on how this goes I'd love to be a fly on the wall."
Tucker gave Danny a hard shove, sending him slightly reeling to the other side of the sidewalk.
"If it goes the other way, you're never going to want me to acknowledge it."
Tucker watched Danny shudder.
"Ew, just ew. You owe me a burger."
"For what?"
"Making me think about you and my sister." Danny pulled a face. "I'm never getting over that."
"Yeah, well, if she shoots me and then you have to come drink my misery away with me, that might help."
"Oh, that's true!" Danny said brightly and Tucker rolled his eyes.
"See, this is why I talked to Sam first."
"Did you actually tell her or did she just use her witch powers to figure it out and bully you?"
"Witch powers," Tucker admitted. "Come on, let's go get food. I can't do something stupid on an empty stomach."
"That's the first thing that's made sense to me all day," Danny said.
It was the first time that Tucker had felt steady all day. Danny knew. Sam supported him. And, soon, he'd talk to Jazz. If she was going to act weird toward him, he at least had to know why. If this was the end of their friendship, he'd deal with that when it happened, but he really hoped that he wasn't going to lose her – no matter what she said to him.
But one look in your eyes and, God, there's something
There was someone knocking on her door and Jazz resented it. She was enjoying her Sunday to mope around in her pyjamas with ice-cream, like she was going through a break-up instead of trying to cope with newfound awkward feelings. There was another knock and Jazz groaned before pulling herself off her couch. She yanked open her front door and there was Tucker, probably the last person that she wanted to see right now – not that it was his fault.
"Hey," she said, softly.
"Can I come in?" he asked and Jazz just blinked for a moment.
"Yeah, of course." If she said 'no', she'd have to explain why and she didn't want to have to do that. She could hide it; she could run from it.
Jazz let him in, leading him back to the couch. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. He sat across from her and he looked surprisingly serious; she had never known Tucker to look like that.
"What's up?" Jazz asked. It was what she'd normally asked.
Tucker rested his head on the back of the couch. "I wanted you to tell me."
"I don't know what you mean." Jazz pulled her red braid over her shoulder, studying the ends of her hair instead.
"I'm not that dumb, Jazz. You've been weird and … Is everything okay? Did I do something?"
Jazz shook her head. "No, it's just –"
She stopped cold.
"Just what?" Tucker asked, just like she knew he would.
But, Jazz just didn't have it in her to lie to him. She knew that she never had.
"You're right. There's been something and I feel like I can't talk to you about it so, yeah, you're right, I've been hiding."
"In the blue jammies."
"They're comfortable to hide in," Jazz said.
"What are you hiding from?" Tucker asked, leaning on his side, leaning closer to her and that was all she could think about.
"You."
He recoiled as if she'd slapped him.
"What did I do?"
"Nothing!" Jazz exclaimed. "That's the problem!"
"I don't get it, Jazz," Tucker said. "I'm your friend, I'm here for you, and you don't get to shut me out. I don't want to be shut out, especially when it's for some weird reason. I'm your friend, you can't do this to me."
"I know," Jazz said. "I'm not that person, Tucker. I'm not the person who knows how to deal with things like this; I'm not the person who's ever been able to say things like this. And I didn't know if I could or should but if we're going to keep being friends and I want to, then I can't not say it, because clearly I don't cope well either."
"What are you –"
"I like you. Like, a lot. Like, I don't know what to do with myself because of it. Because, I think I'm in love with you and I hope that doesn't ruin or change anything or … Or, maybe, you like me back because I don't know. I really don't know how this is going to end but there it is. Because I don't know how to lie to you and I don't want to."
Jazz wasn't sure she could believe that had all really come out of her mouth. She grabbed her braid in her hands, toying it around her fingers for something to do other than stare at Tucker and wait for his reaction.
Because she was so scared of his reaction.
You can lie to me and say you don't
But I know you do, and I love you too
"You what?" Tucker said, because he couldn't believe it.
He had spent most of the night with Danny and Sam, trying to get mentally prepared for confronting Jazz about her weirdness and confessing his feelings, just to make sure they never got a break from the weirdness. Now, here she was, flipping the script on him, and Tucker didn't know where to go from here. Never had he imagined that she would say anything first – he thought that she'd reject him and they'd have to work to try and get back to where they were, if they ever did.
"I thought you were my friend. You meant so much to me and we were close but I didn't realize that there might be more to it until the night I got drunk. When I woke up and you were still there taking care of me …" Jazz closed her eyes and tucked her head down. Tucker wished that she hadn't done that; he wished that he could still see the face that she was making. "Marcia kept asking me if there was someone in my life and she asked me about you before and I never thought about it. I think I should have because you've been here the whole time. And, I guess I'm sorry, if this ruins things but I'm not the type of person who can keep quiet. I'm just not."
Tucker just kept staring at her.
"You have to say something, eventually!" Jazz cried. "Because I'm not the type of person who can just be okay with not knowing. I've been sitting here for days trying to figure out how to not know or how to tell you if I had to or … Or, even, if you might like me back, somehow. I've been overthinking our entire friendship and I'm tired of that."
"Jazz." Tucker got as far as her name before his throat started feeling like it was closing completely.
Her head popped up, her clear eyes looking at him with such want that Tucker almost didn't believe it hadn't been there the whole time.
"What?" Jazz asked.
Tucker knew her well enough to know how hard that was for her to say. Jazz was always fighting to be tough and to be the best; it was rare that she let herself be that vulnerable. It just put more pressure on him to make sure that he said the right thing.
"I was hanging out with Sam this morning, worried about how you were treating me weird. And then I saw Danny before I came to talk to you, to tell him how close we've been as friends. Except, I told him what I told Sam months ago: that I was falling in love with you."
Jazz stared blankly at him; he had never seen her so speechless.
"Wait. What?"
"Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow night?" Tucker asked.
"I can't. I'm have my lab tomorrow night."
"The night after," Tucker suggested. "I want to take you out on a real date."
"And I want to go," Jazz said. "Okay, the night after."
"I'll pick you up at seven, okay?"
Jazz nodded. "Okay."
Tucker didn't know what to do with himself now. He felt like he'd told her his feelings and asked her on a date – it was what he'd headed to her apartment to do. In the best case scenario, anyway. Now, it was probably time for him to leave before he overstayed his welcome, but he didn't want to go. He had missed being around Jazz. She was so calming, for him, anyway. Most people found her neurotic and her energy stressful. Tucker had spent most of his teenage years thinking of her the same way and, yet, here he was.
Jazz let her arms fall away from her knees. "I have a question."
"Yeah."
She side-eyed him, a blush on her cheeks that nearly matched her hair. "You told Sam months ago?"
"Yeah," Tucker admitted, glad that she couldn't see his blush. He could certainly feel it. "She's been bothering me about it ever since."
"And you talked to Danny?"
"Yeah. He knew I was on my way over so I'll probably have a ton of texts from him later. You too."
"Well, that's okay," Jazz murmured. "I can't believe it. You feeling that way about me. I didn't think you ever would."
"Well, I didn't think we'd ever be friends," Tucker said. "And, now, I get all crazy when I haven't talked to you properly in four days."
Jazz grinned and she shifted on the couch so that they were more sitting next to one another. She reached down, the tips of her fingers grazing the back of his hand. Tucker turned his hand over, his fingers sliding through hers so that they were palm to palm. And, he was losing his mind, like he had never held a girl's hand before. And when she squeezed his hand, he lost his mind, like a twelve-year-old boy just discovering girls.
"I missed you too, as dumb as that sounds."
"It doesn't sound dumb."
Tucker knew the way that she was looking at him, for once. He didn't have to decode; he didn't have to overthink. He didn't have to wonder if she was thinking the same thing. She was leaning into him; he was leaning into her. She wanted him to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. And, he was going to.
Until his phone sounded off with Danny's ringtone and he startled away from him Jazz, like he'd been caught doing something wrong.
"He's probably wondering if I killed you," Jazz said, and Tucker laughed.
"He warned me that you had ecto-guns."
"I wouldn't have shot you," Jazz said, laughing.
"We weren't sure."
Jazz's leg pressed against his. Danny be damned; he'd call his best friend back later. His hand rested on her waist and she was coming closer and closer to him. Tucker's eyes closed and he knew that he was seconds away from his first kiss with Jazz.
And then her phone went off with Danny's ringtone.
She giggled nervously and Tucker was relieved to know that he wasn't the only one who felt like they were back in junior high.
"One of us are going to have to call him back," she said. "I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Okay."
Jazz followed Tucker to the door to let him out, her hand resting against his arm as she started to say goodnight. But, Tucker wasn't going to let Danny ruin this moment for them. Danny seemed pretty understanding earlier today and, so, Tucker expected him to understand why he wasn't going to get a call back right away.
Tucker's arm went around Jazz's waist, pulling her close to his body. Her short body fit around his own, her hand curling into the front of his shirt and pulling him down. Tucker pressed his lips to hers and it was everything that he had hoped that it would be. His blood felt like it was boiling under his skin as his hands spread over her back. Her fingers threaded through his hair. He didn't think that he could get any closer to her, until he had her pinned to her front door, with no idea when it had happened. Her legs went tightly around his waist, her mouth eager against his. One of his hands slipped under her soft pyjama top, the warmth of her bare skin like a drug to him.
When neither of them could breathe, Jazz slipped back to her own two feet, still tightly holding onto the front of his shirt. Tucker felt as dazed as she looked as he looked back down at her, trying to make his brain realize that he had just kissed her, after so long of thinking about what it might be like.
"I …"
Danny's ringtone blared from Tucker's phone again.
"I'll see you for our date, okay?"
Jazz said the word 'date' and smiled, so pretty and perfect that Tucker dipped his head and stole a kiss from her again.
"I'll see you."
Tucker hated to open the door and step outside. She waved at him before she shut the door. He heard the lock click and he started down to his car, feeling shaky all over. Jazz had kissed him; Jazz loved him back. It was so much that he felt like he was going to explode from the inside out and he had to take several deep breaths once he was inside of his car. He'd call Danny back when he felt like he could think properly.
If he could ever think properly again.
Friends don't call you in the middle of the night
Couldn't even tell you why
They just felt like saying "hi"
Jazz listened to her phone ring on speaker, watching the light from the screen cast around her dark bedroom.
"Hey!" Tucker said. "What are you doing up this late?"
"I'm really not," Jazz said. "I'm going to bed but I was thinking about you."
"Yeah? I was thinking about you too," Tucker said.
His voice was sweet, sensual, and Jazz had heard it before. She'd heard the tone on the boyfriends she'd had in the past and she'd heard Tucker use it on the phone with girlfriends he'd had in the past. And, she never though that he'd be talking to her that way, or that she would want him to when he did. But, she loved it.
"I was thinking about our date tomorrow," Jazz admitted.
"Okay. What about it? Do you not want to go?" Tucker asked.
"No, unless you don't want to," Jazz said, quickly, and then she felt like kicking herself. It felt awkward and she didn't know how to change that. She had known Tucker during the most awkward years of their lives; there was nothing that they didn't know about each other. It shouldn't be awkward.
Except, every time she heard his voice now, all she could think about was being pinned against the wall, his body hot between her legs, and getting back there. She kept thinking about her own stuttered confession of feelings and how Tucker had said it back, and her own insecurities that those feelings could possibly last. She kept worrying about how this date would go and, even with their feelings, that's he would still lose him completely. It was the one thing that she had never wanted to do.
"I want to. I've been wanting to," Tucker assured her. "And, it'll be classy, I promise. No Nasty Burger."
"Well, if I wasn't worried before," Jazz mused, letting the sentence trail.
"Don't. Worry, I mean. I want this to work, Jazz. It's going to be the best date you've ever been on."
"All right but you can't say it and then let me down," Jazz said, and teasing him felt so natural that it calmed her down. They were still going to be Jazz and Tucker, even if they were going on a date.
"And if I do, you'll kill me and Danny will bury the body," Tucker joked back.
"One more question, Tuck."
"Yeah?"
"What do I wear?"
Tucker just laughed at her. "Birthday suit?"
"Tucker!"
"You've changed in front of me. I know how hot you are."
"It's still public indecency," Jazz replied.
"Okay, okay," Tucker said. "Nothing too fancy. I'm still on a student budget, no matter how much I love you."
He said it so casually, like he had been saying it to her all the while. It was so natural that Jazz thought that he had to mean it but what did she know? Aside from the fact that she shouldn't be doubting him. She'd never doubted him before when they were friends; there was no need to start now.
"So, jeans, skirt …?"
"Whatever you want. I –"
"Don't say you want to see my legs."
"I'm not lying to you," Tucker said. "I should get points for that."
Jazz laughed. "You're something else, you know."
"You like me."
"Yeah," Jazz agreed.
"I should go. I've got my eight a.m. tomorrow."
"Sorry for keeping you up."
"I really don't mind," Tucker promised. "See you tomorrow, okay, Jazz?"
"Okay."
Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys
Finding reasons not to leave
Trying to hide the chemistry
Drive a little too slow, take the long way home
Get a little too close
Tucker parked in front of Jazz's building, sending her a text that he was here. To his surprise, she wasn't the first Fenton that he saw – rather, it was Danny, swan diving out of her window and phasing through the roof of his car and into the passenger seat.
"And people call Sam the drama queen," Tucker said sarcastically.
"That's just 'cause Sam looks so dramatic," Danny replied, propping one foot up on the dashboard. "So …"
"We don't need a chaperone."
"Are you sure?" Danny asked. "I've heard about your dates before."
"I'm not that bad!" Tucker said. "Whatever. I still don't need a chaperone."
"You'll never know if I'm there or not."
"Jazz will know," Tucker said confidently. "You can't get anything by her. You know that."
Danny snorted. "Sam said I should leave you guys alone, no matter what."
"Take Sam's advice," Tucker replied. "She's the smart one."
"Out of the two of us? A hundred percent," Danny snorted. "I just don't want anything bad to happen because I don't want to have to pick sides."
"Jazz and I will be sure to think of you when deciding things about our relationship."
Danny shivered. "It's a date, not a relationship."
"Relationship is where it's going to go if I have anything to say about it," Tucker said. "Be my best man?"
"Okay, let's … One step at a time. Jeez, man."
But Tucker just laughed, watching Danny freak out. They both startled when there was a knocking on the window.
"Danny! Get out of my date!"
"Sorry, Jazz."
Danny pushed open the car door and then held it open for her. With a not too amused look, Jazz sunk down in the seat that Danny had just vacated.
"Please, for my sanity, don't have too much fun."
"Maybe if you could mind your own business, your sanity would be fully in tact," Jazz replied. "Just a thought."
"You stole him from me, let's not forget that," Danny said. "Okay, bye!"
Jazz shut the car door herself, just to make sure that he stayed out, and then she turned to look at Tucker, and Tucker blocked out whether or not Danny was still standing outside of the car. Jazz was wearing a skirt that flirted with the lower part of her thigh, and Tucker leant across the console to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.
"So, where are we going?"
"You can tell me if you think this is lame," Tucker said. "But, I was thinking that we'd go get, like, way too much Chinese takeout and then I found a drive-in theatre. It'll take us, like, forty minutes to get there but –"
"I think it's great!" Jazz interrupted. "Let's go."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
But, before he started the car up, he kissed her again.
We do, but friends don't
Jazz closed her eyes as the make-up artist buzzed around her, dabbing a little more colour on her lips before declaring her done. Jazz stared at herself in the mirror. There were flowers in her hair, which had never been so crunchy from hairspray, and she was wearing more make-up than she had ever worn in her life. She didn't have long to look at herself, though, she had to keep moving. She was on a tight schedule, after all.
Jazz was shuffled from the make-up room to the dressing room. She was the last one to join and she was immediately grabbed to be zipped into her dress. The soft blue silk hugged her curves and flowed around her, and Jazz thought she looked pretty good.
Nowhere near as pretty as the bride, though.
Allison and McKenzie were already standing around Marcia, fluffing out her veil and complimenting her make-up. Marcia was grinning from ear-to-ear.
"I never would have met him if it weren't for you," Marcia said. "I think he's the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."
"You're good together. And, you're the first person to make me look at Tucker as more than a friend. We've got each other's back."
Marcia smiled at her. "Think he'll propose to you soon?"
Jazz shook her head. "No. We haven't talked about it. Maybe someday but we're not there yet. We're going to move in together, though, when his lease is up."
"This is crazy, right? I'm getting married at twenty-four."
"You've been engaged for a couple of years already. It's not fast and you love him." Jazz squeezed Marcia's arm. "Besides, it was a lot of work to get you into this dress and we're never letting you out of it."
Marcia laughed. "No, I'm ready to get married. And, I'm never letting myself out of this dress."
Jazz laughed. "We're ready to go."
"So, let's go!"
Jazz took her place in line with the other bridesmaids, slowly striding down the traditionally decorated church aisle. There was a lot to look at: from the meticulously planned flowers to the nervous groom. And, yet, the only thing that Jazz could look at was Tucker, sitting in the third row in a dark suit. She knew that the wedding was going to be beautiful; Marcia and Kwan were so in love and she didn't doubt that. But, standing there, and looking at Tucker smiling at her, she was thinking about their love. She was thinking about the fact that they had been in love and, now, she couldn't imagine him not being her boyfriend; she couldn't imagine being in love with anyone else.
Just before the music changed to signal the bride's walk down the aisle, Tucker blew her a kiss and Jazz waved slightly back.
She was going to marry that man someday.
Friends don't
How many Jazz/Tucker friends to lovers stories can I write? At least one more. The song inspired me, what can I say? The song is Friends Don't by Maddie & Tae.
~TLL~