PoV: JAKE
For the most part, I'm not allowed to leave the vacation-rental home we're staying in on the outer edge of town, being so easily recognizable and all. But over the last week I've found myself going more and more stir crazy, and I don't know how much longer I can take it. I'm allowed to go out into the small yard behind the house by myself, though, and it's protected by a tall fence so I'm not likely to be seen.
It's nighttime now. Stars dot the sky innumerably, little pinpricks of light across an otherwise unending expanse of darkness. I left my phone upstairs so I'm not tempted to text Rory. I shake my head (which is weird, because I'm laying down on the grass). Rory probably thinks you're coming on too strong, and she doesn't know how to tell you because she's just that nice. Too many things about Rory seem too good to be true, and still—every instinct I have is telling me to trust her. How do I accept the fact that I have a friend, a real one, after all this time? And it's unlike anything I ever imagined…in the best way?
Rory is so many good things. Every time her name pops into my head (which, embarrassingly, is a lot of times a day) it makes me smile like an idiot. Just her name. Forget everything else. Her laugh, which is cute and aggressive at the same time, and when I manage to coax it out of her it feels like a thousand victories in one. The way she's able to follow my train of thought even after I lose it, which is freaky-incredible. How I can't imagine feeling bad when I'm around her. She makes the world disappear just by looking at me, and God forbid I look back because I could definitely get lost in those green eyes.
I sit up suddenly on the lawn, a realization having hit me like a ton of bricks. Do…do I like Rory? It's a small question that encompasses so many things, threatens all the balances I've worked to strike over the last week, not to mention the fact that it's way to soon. Or is it? Is it too soon? I don't know.
Groaning, I topple back over on the lawn and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. You promised yourself you wouldn't screw this up. If you lost her friendship, you'd be the biggest moron in the world.
No. Losing a friend is not an option. I inhale deeply, willing myself to come up with a solution. I wait. Stare up at the stars.
Nothing.
Rory Swenson, you have no idea what you're doing to me.
When I arrive on set the next day, I'm a little surprised to find that most of it has already been struck. The black crew vans, which previously were parked at the far back of the trailer lot, are now front and center on the school's football field, and everything from boom mics to wireless ear pieces are being loaded inside.
We're really finished. Tomorrow, I'm going home.
"Jake!" A perpetually-irritated voice croons from behind. Madison approaches me, her hands clasped behind her back in a way that's very unlike her. I raise an eyebrow in suspicion.
"Yes?"
"I've got something to tell you." She's wearing that smile of hers that might make anyone else who doesn't know better melt on the spot. But I know she only puts it on when she really wants something.
"What is it?"
Her smile widens. "They're bumping up the press tour! So we can make it to more locations before the movie drops. We leave for Chicago in two days!"
Her excitement about it makes me feel even worse. I grin weakly and force out a "That's great," which is all I can give at the moment. Guess we're not going home tomorrow. If Madison notices my lack of enthusiasm about her news, she doesn't let on.
Two days? Only two days? That's a lot less time than I intended to have, especially with everything I need to get sorted out with Rory before I leave. It's not enough time.
But it has to be. I don't have a choice now.
"All right, coast is clear."
On Rory's signal, I emerge from around the telephone pole I was waiting behind. With my hands shoved down into my jean pockets, head hanging low, and trusty aviators and baseball cap, I'm hardly recognizable.
Rory's eyes dart from side to side one last time before she grabs my hand unexpectedly and pulls me forward, over a small grassy hill into what looks like a park. "Come on," she says quietly, not letting go of my hand. "There's a clearing over here that no one goes into."
She holds on for a few more feet (which I'm more and more aware of every step she takes), then drops my hand suddenly and whispers, "It probably doesn't look as suspicious if I'm not pulling you behind me."
But I'd take all the attention in the world if meant she would take my hand again.
As promised, the clearing is deserted when we finally get there. There's a chain-link fence separating the park boundary from someone's property next door, and a thick concentration of trees block the way we came. It's cooler here, nestled in shade, and blissfully private. There aren't too many places in the world where I feel completely at peace with my surroundings, but I can already tell this is one of them.
Then again, that could just be because Rory's here.
"How are you feeling?" She asks, slowing down and leaning up against a solid, steady tree trunk. That tree's probably been here for hundreds of years; its stability makes me feel calmer. You can do this.
"Overwhelmed, to say the least. The press tour getting moved up is so sudden. I wish I could stay here, w—" I almost say "with you," but stop myself just in time. "—where I'm not in the spotlight all the time."
Rory smiles a little, her eyes focused past me. "So do I." Her deep gaze meets mine, and a million thought and feelings flood into me. "But you have my phone number and my screen name now. Any time you want to talk, I'm here."
"Thanks. I will definitely be taking you up on that," I assure her. "I'm really gonna miss—" Again, I almost said "I'm really gonna miss you," but it still doesn't feel like the right way to bring it up. "I'm really gonna miss Willow Falls when I go back home. I mean, the chocolate chip pancakes here are—"
"I'm going to miss you too, Jake." Rory cuts me off, smiling knowingly. She's so confident, so at ease. So different from the girl I used to see shuffling around on set bearing every possible injury and trying to disappear. And she's doing my favorite thing where she sees into me, takes my thoughts as her own and finishes them for me because I'm too much of a coward to do it myself.
She's the match I never knew I had. And in my stormy life of paparazzi parades and publicity tours and photo shoots, in all the chaos that demands everything from me, she comes and she fills me back up. And I'm suddenly able to do it all over again, a thousand times, take on the world all by myself. She's the center of my storm. My world gets better, my world is better, just because she's in it.
I've been a prisoner in my own life since the day I first set foot on a sound stage. But in the short amount of time I've known Rory Swenson, she's changed me, inspired me, helped me to believe that I can be more than just another Hollywood typecast. She liberated me without trying, without me really noticing until it was almost too late.
Because of her, I am finally free—free of everything that's ever held me down. And it feels amazing.
My exhilaration dims a little as the weight of this goodbye dawns on me. It was always going to be hard; I knew that from the start. But now, "hard" isn't enough to describe it. It's excruciating. It's a kind of pain I've never felt firsthand until right now. Like losing oxygen, gradually, more and more until you suffocate completely.
And there's only one concept I can think of to truly describe it. One word that sums it all up.
Rory's face is now inches away from mine, even though I don't remember coming near her. Physically, we've never been closer than we are right now. "Jake?" Rory asks softly, concern filling her eyes. "Are you okay?" I hear her but I don't answer. The intensity in her green eyes is electrifying. For a long time, silence covers us like a blanket.
Then, finally, I break it. "Rory?" I whisper.
"Yeah?"
"It happened."
A/N: I can't help myself—Harriswenson FTW! But it's not over yet… ;)