Emily Franklin - Principles Of Love 06 - Labor Of Love by Emily Franklin Page A
Book: Emily Franklin - Principles Of Love 06 - Labor Of Love by Emily Franklin
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Authors: Emily Franklin
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kiss him. Or we could hug."We haven't even said a proper hello," I say and initiate the hug.
I'm magnetized to Jacob. My mind knows it's not he that I'm dating, that he isn't my boyfriend, isn't even my super- close friend, but my body just swoops over as though we've never been apart. As though everything that's come after that first kiss at the end of sophomore year outside Slave to the Grind with the apple blossoms blowing around us-- never occurred. I never went away for the summer to Music Magazine for my internship; he never traveled abroad and stayed there; I never went to London; he never hooked up with bitchy Lindsay Parrish (not that they went very far, ac cording to rumors, but still--eww); as though I never woke up next to him at the Crescent Beach party to find he'd been flanked on the other side by his French import hottie, Juliette; and I'd never been swept off my feet by Charlie.
But all of that did happen. So even though I am utterly drawn to Jacob, even though I feel some base, instinctual need to lean too far into him, even though I could stay just a few seconds too long after the normal hug procedure, I
&&% AVWdgd[AdkZ
don't. In fact, to prove to myself that I don't want to do anything other than greet him cordially, I end the hug with a pat.
"I don't remember you as being a patter," Jacob says, miming the action when we've pulled apart and are once again motionless driver and passenger in the bumper car.
I pat into my palm, looking as though I'm trying to flat ten playdough. "I'm not. I mean, I hate patting. During a hug at any rate. But I just did it to you and I . . ." I stop myself from rambling and then force myself to look directly into Jacob's eyes, which is something akin to looking right where you're not supposed to--behind the door in scary movies, into the light in Raiders of the Lost Ark--basically, somewhere forbidden. How best to proceed? Do I spew the quagmire of feelings currently swishing around my brain? Do I play coy and act like the Friend Girl I'm so good at being? Or none of the above. Just natural. Honest.
"It's good to see you, Jacob," I say, looking at his green eyes, but not for too long.
"You, too," he says and smiles, a sigh closely following. "You didn't come back here for me, did you?"
I shake my head. "I would have . . . at some point. . . ." Saying this aloud makes me sad. Like a moment has passed. So I say this:"That made me sad."
"Me, too." Jacob hoists himself from our cramped closeness
&&& :b^an;gVc`a^c
and positions his body on the front of the car, like an over sized hood ornament. He notices me checking this out."We can talk better like this--face to face, I mean. Instead of . . ." He folds his arms in on his chest, squished. "I don't know. I used to think that everything happens for a reason. But I don't really. So with us . . ." The word lingers in the space between us. I take a breath.
"There's another chance, you're saying?"
"Something like that. When I called you in Cali--not that I knew you were there, obviously. Or I would've flown there instead of ferrying here. But I didn't want you to run to me in some overdramatic gesture. I didn't want my feel ings to be a gesture at all."
"What did you want?" My stomach growls so loudly we both hear, and I put my palm over it as though I can com fort it into silence."Fried food for lunch.Always makes you hungry for an early dinner."
Jacob nods. "I think I wanted to . . . how to say this without sounding like a total scam artist or cheeseball?" He thinks. "Remember when we used to write emails? Before you knew who I was?" I nod. "I loved that. I loved . . ." He looks quickly at me and then away. "I loved just getting something other than spam. Messages that made me think."
"I miss those," I say. "I've never had that kind of corre spondence with anyone."
&&' AVWdgd[AdkZ
"And then we wrote those letters. . . ." Jacob blushes as he says this, no doubt remembering how brutally honest we
I'm magnetized to Jacob. My mind knows it's not he that I'm dating, that he isn't my boyfriend, isn't even my super- close friend, but my body just swoops over as though we've never been apart. As though everything that's come after that first kiss at the end of sophomore year outside Slave to the Grind with the apple blossoms blowing around us-- never occurred. I never went away for the summer to Music Magazine for my internship; he never traveled abroad and stayed there; I never went to London; he never hooked up with bitchy Lindsay Parrish (not that they went very far, ac cording to rumors, but still--eww); as though I never woke up next to him at the Crescent Beach party to find he'd been flanked on the other side by his French import hottie, Juliette; and I'd never been swept off my feet by Charlie.
But all of that did happen. So even though I am utterly drawn to Jacob, even though I feel some base, instinctual need to lean too far into him, even though I could stay just a few seconds too long after the normal hug procedure, I
&&% AVWdgd[AdkZ
don't. In fact, to prove to myself that I don't want to do anything other than greet him cordially, I end the hug with a pat.
"I don't remember you as being a patter," Jacob says, miming the action when we've pulled apart and are once again motionless driver and passenger in the bumper car.
I pat into my palm, looking as though I'm trying to flat ten playdough. "I'm not. I mean, I hate patting. During a hug at any rate. But I just did it to you and I . . ." I stop myself from rambling and then force myself to look directly into Jacob's eyes, which is something akin to looking right where you're not supposed to--behind the door in scary movies, into the light in Raiders of the Lost Ark--basically, somewhere forbidden. How best to proceed? Do I spew the quagmire of feelings currently swishing around my brain? Do I play coy and act like the Friend Girl I'm so good at being? Or none of the above. Just natural. Honest.
"It's good to see you, Jacob," I say, looking at his green eyes, but not for too long.
"You, too," he says and smiles, a sigh closely following. "You didn't come back here for me, did you?"
I shake my head. "I would have . . . at some point. . . ." Saying this aloud makes me sad. Like a moment has passed. So I say this:"That made me sad."
"Me, too." Jacob hoists himself from our cramped closeness
&&& :b^an;gVc`a^c
and positions his body on the front of the car, like an over sized hood ornament. He notices me checking this out."We can talk better like this--face to face, I mean. Instead of . . ." He folds his arms in on his chest, squished. "I don't know. I used to think that everything happens for a reason. But I don't really. So with us . . ." The word lingers in the space between us. I take a breath.
"There's another chance, you're saying?"
"Something like that. When I called you in Cali--not that I knew you were there, obviously. Or I would've flown there instead of ferrying here. But I didn't want you to run to me in some overdramatic gesture. I didn't want my feel ings to be a gesture at all."
"What did you want?" My stomach growls so loudly we both hear, and I put my palm over it as though I can com fort it into silence."Fried food for lunch.Always makes you hungry for an early dinner."
Jacob nods. "I think I wanted to . . . how to say this without sounding like a total scam artist or cheeseball?" He thinks. "Remember when we used to write emails? Before you knew who I was?" I nod. "I loved that. I loved . . ." He looks quickly at me and then away. "I loved just getting something other than spam. Messages that made me think."
"I miss those," I say. "I've never had that kind of corre spondence with anyone."
&&' AVWdgd[AdkZ
"And then we wrote those letters. . . ." Jacob blushes as he says this, no doubt remembering how brutally honest we
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