The Truth About Jack (Entangled Crush) by Jody Gehrman

bright yellow furniture and watercolors of exotic beaches. It’s supposed to be relaxing and casual, but right now the sunny colors just grate on my nerves. I walk the circumference of the room, running my hands through my hair.
    “Not bad,” Joaquin pronounces when he’s finished reading. “But you spelled churros wrong.”
    “I think you should work in something about a sunset,” Attila suggests.
    “Really, why?”
    “Girls like sunsets,” he replies, like this is glaringly obvious.
    I return to the table and take another swig of my drink. It tastes better now. Maybe the ice has melted enough to soften the kick of the vodka. Or maybe I’m starting to relax.
    “Tempestuoso is a good word to add,” Joaquin says, almost to himself.
    “Where?”
    He squints at the page. “Right here, where you write about the weather.”
    “What’s it mean, tempestuous?”
    “Yeah. Stormy.” He grins. “She’ll dig that.”
    I scribble a couple notes on the draft, already thinking about how I’ll work in their suggestions. As I put down my pen, I feel a sudden rush of gratitude. Maybe it’s the vodka, but I doubt it. Half a weak cocktail can’t account for the giddy sense of lightness I suddenly feel. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve ventured outside the rigid parameters of my private world; I didn’t realize until now how much that’s stressed me out. I’m making friends. Sure, one of them is paid to drive me around, but until now Attila and I have never gone beyond our tutor-tutee relationship. These days we’re hanging out off the clock. He’s advising me on my love life. Joaquin’s lived on the property for two years, but we’ve never even attempted small talk. Now we’re having drinks together at nine forty-five on a school night. Not only am I making friends, I’m making contact with a beautiful, smart, mysterious girl. After almost four years of isolation, these are pretty big steps, even if I’ve approached both in a deeply convoluted way.
    “The thing I don’t get,” Joaquin says, leaning back in his chair, “is how you’re going to actually get with this chick.”
    I look up. He’s got a point. “Yeah. That’s a problem.”
    “I told him he should play piano, make her come to him.” Attila knocks back the rest of his drink. “But he doesn’t listen to me.”
    Joaquin laces his fingers behind his head. “Eventually, you either have to come clean and tell her who you really are, or get to know her as Jack, and have to compete with Alejandro.”
    “And Alejandro is way hotter than you,” Attila adds solemnly.
    “Ouch,” I say.
    Attila gently slaps the back of my head. “I’m only saying.”
    “Let’s see if she writes back.” I fold the letter and slip it into my pocket. “She may decide Alejandro’s a total loser, and then I’ll be free to make my move as Jack.” I can’t exactly see myself suddenly gaining that kind of confidence without the ruse of letters to hide behind. Seeing her in the café the other day had me so on edge I nearly gave myself an ulcer. Emailing her as Alejandro, watching her type, her face shining with happiness, I thought I’d explode. The very thought of crossing the room and asking her out gave me hives. Let’s face it; I’m not ready for real time, face-to-face Dakota. Her smile is so radiant, it’s like looking directly at the sun.
    “I think you need some kind of plan,” Joaquin says.
    He’s right, of course. I consider the suggestion carefully. When at last I offer up an explanation, I try to sound more confident than I actually feel. “Alejandro’s my cover for now. I’ll get to know her a little on paper, get a better sense of how she thinks. Then, once I understand who she is, I can make my move as Jack.”
    Joaquin looks skeptical. “Like sending troops in to do reconnaissance before you attack?”
    “Exactly. I’m a lot less likely to screw everything up as Jack if I get inside her head as Alejandro first.”
    Neither he nor