A/N: Chapter title prone to change.
Jake's eyes were glued to the screen of his phone. He smirked as he read the message he had just received and began texting back, his finger flying across the keys. He was so absorbed that he didn't even notice when we cruised into my parking space and I announced, "We're here."
"Hmm?" he asked absently, hungrily eying the screen.
"Who are you texting?" I asked him, wondering why he found their conversation so damn entertaining. I wasn't jealous, just curious. No answer.
It wasn't until both Glenn and I craned our necks to peer over his shoulder, unable to stand being left out, did Jake rejoin us.
He jumped about a mile when he noticed how much of his personal space Glenn had invaded. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, shooting away from Glenn and into me, because I was leaning equally close. He snapped back the other way.
"Haven't you two ever heard of personal space…or privacy?" he asked crossly.
"Heard of them, yes," Glenn responded. "Practice them, no. So…who's Amber? I haven't heard of her."
I swore Jake blushed. "A friend," he replied much too promptly, immediately snapping his phone shut. "Just a friend."
I snorted contemptuously. That was a load of bullshit. No guy as attractive as Jake could have female friends who were content with just being friends. I suspected that this "just friends" arrangement between Amber and Jake wouldn't last very long.
Glenn however was satisfied—most of his friends were girls—so he declared the potential problem solved. "A girl friend, Kyle," he clarified, reading my mind, or at the very least, my jealous expression. "A friend who's a girl. Like you."
Thanks, Glenn. Way to totally make Jake think I wasn't interested in him that way. I wanted to slap Glenn. Hell, I'd slap Jake too if I got the chance; I was so annoyed at him. Annoyed at the unfairness of the situation. Annoyed by his obliviousness, deliberate or not.
I mean here I was—in love with him, willing to do whatever it took to please him, all but worshipping the ground he walked on—and he just…didn't…notice. Ironic how we could be together all the time and yet I could feel so ignored.
Okay, so 'ignored' was a bit strong. Admittedly, I wasn't the clingy type who demanded compliments and affection routinely, but I did want some sort of acknowledgement and positive response in return. Even a little encouragement from Jake would be a welcome change of pace. Just to know I wasn't wasting all of my time and effort in a one-sided relationship.
Relationship? Definitely the wrong word to choose. Maybe in my fucked-up head we were in an imaginary relationship, but in reality we were still friends. Only friends. Wow, that made it sound like it was a bad thing. Which it wasn't.
Jake was a great friend, easy to talk to, loyal and fun to hang out with, willing to do anything for me, though maybe a little clueless. I hadn't known him long, but I felt as close to him as any of my best friends—guy or girl. Though I didn't take her seriously, Shelby sometimes acted jealous of him. Although I could've paid more attention to her when I was with the two of them.
But Jake was so pretty. Could you blame me for devoting so much attention to him?
The three of us went to a movie one night. Because Shelby was notorious for stealing my popcorn, I made Jake sit in the middle; throughout the movie, he greedily dug in and I was only able to scavenge a few handfuls. During the previews, I leaned over him to talk to Shelby, but after the show started and more than one person shushed me, it had to stop.
The movie trailers didn't lie, it promised to be good. I wanted to watch it, but Jake was hard to ignore. Especially when he kept asking me questions during complicated parts or scoffing at all of the gory or violent bits.
And when I could tune out his sneers of "That was so fake", I spent much of the show watching the happy couple in front of us. The guy dropped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder and then a little make-out session followed shortly after. I knew I was intruding on their intimate moment, but I couldn't help watching and wishing that it was me and Jake. (And trying to not remember that at one time in my life, that was me and Shelby).
I telepathically sent hint after hint to Jake and I was thrilled when he reached over…
…until he whisked away what was left of my soda.
"Pig," I grumbled in irritation, slumping down in my seat.
"I'm hungry," Jake whined. I glared at him, but the theater may've been too dark for him to see. So my popcorn didn't suffice, then? "I didn't know this was going to be so long."
"'I can wait until after the movie to eat'," I quoted him expertly. "'I'm fine'."
"It's called reverse psychology," he explained. "I say that I'm not hungry, even if I am, and then one of you guys is supposed to say 'You know, I'm kind of hungry, let's go get something to eat'. It's like mind control."
"Because of course that worked," I sneered. "Here's some reverse psychology for you: I don't want you to go away and I really don't want you to shut up."
Jake immediately jutted out his bottom lip and made himself tear up, in a surprisingly good impersonation of Glenn. "Fine," he sulked. "I will." To the further annoyance of the people behind us, he got up and resettled himself a couple seats over. Then, after giving me an indignant look, stared determinedly at the screen.
I settled back into my seat and followed suit, even though I knew he kept staring at me, expecting a reaction. He didn't get one. Not even thirty seconds later, I felt a gentle fingertip prod me in the side and I jumped about a foot. "What?!" I hissed in a fierce whisper.
"What's going on now?" Jake asked innocently. "I'm lost."
"This is what's commonly known as the end credits," I explained, wincing a little as the bright lights came flashing back on. "The movie's over."
"Cool," he said happily. "Let's go eat." He trotted cheerfully down the stairs and out of the theater, no doubt to wait expectantly by my car. I rolled my eyes and threw the empty popcorn tub he had so thoughtfully left for me in the trash.
What an unproductive night. I blew off studying for a vocabulary test to come here tonight, only to not get to eat the popcorn that cost me almost ten bucks or evenget to watch the movie I'd wanted to see since the first trailer aired.
"How was the movie?" I asked Shelby. A summarized version was better than walking around as the only person who hadn't (been able to) watched it. Judging by the sour look on her face, she didn't enjoy it all. Maybe it was a good thing I'd been too preoccupied with Jake to pay attention.
"It was great. What do you think, Kyle?" she answered, and I was relieved that there were no hard feelings. Yes, I ignored her nearly all night, but she should know why. She should know better than anybody why—and be thrilled that I had made so much progress.
It was almost as if Jake and I were on a date. But I made a mental note that when we did go out, we would never go to the movies again.
Perhaps Jake's obliviousness was rubbing off on me, because I didn't pick up on the stiff edge in her voice until it was too late.
"I don't know," I had begun to say but, Shelby had already whipped round, voice and manner suddenly ferocious. "It was fan-fucking-tastic. Considering I was ignored the entire time. You and Jake have been in your own happy little world all evening. It's not like you guys are..."
She was angry, really angry, but Shelby caught herself in time before she let anything bitchy come slipping out. Though she never acted like that to me, she had the capability to go from cool to bitch in under five seconds. She took several deep steadying breathes. "I don't want to say anything I'm going to regret, so I'll see you tomorrow," she said shortly. "Why should I impose any longer?"
She flounced off across the parking lot, most likely expecting me to come running after her ("Wait! I'm sorry, don't go!"), but I didn't. I'd had enough of her for one night; it wasn't like she tried to include herself, she just sat and sulked. And it wasn't like Jake wasn't friendly or easy to talk to. But it was her last little comment that really annoyed me. Even though she didn't (completely) say it, I knew her well enough to know exactly what she was thinking.
It's not like you guys are dating.
I knew this too, but I still didn't like having it rubbed in my face, more like a slap actually. Especially since it was by my best friend. It almost felt like a gloat, like she was wordlessly telling me that I was incapable of getting a guy.
"What was her problem?" Jake sneered, watching Shelby's car fly out of the parking lot. He preferred to deal with our argument in a typical male fashion—get as far away from it as fast as he possibly could, sitting safely inside my Jeep, which could most likely withstand a collision with an SUV.
I liked how he said "her problem"; he made it sound as if everything was completely Shelby's fault, but that was Jake for you. He always took my side in a moment of real conflict, and would patiently put up with me while I fumed about it later.
"I don't know," I answered sharply. Immediately after the words were out, I felt guilty. Regardless of how angry I was at Shelby, Jake did absolutely nothing to deserve my wrath—and I was absolutely mortified with myself for unleashing it on him. "Sorry," I grumbled. "It's just that Shelby really pissed me off."
But it wasn't like she always and I knew we'd be cool tomorrow. Though the damage had been done. 'It's not like you guys are dating.' It's not like you could get him. I wouldn't be forgetting her comment for awhile. And I would certainly be smarter than to hang out with the two of them together again.
Jake subtly pulled a face—I was embarrassed for Shelby for showing him that thoroughly unlikable side of her—but he was tactful enough not to say anything. He was my friend, but she was almost like a fifth sister, so the only one who was allowed to say anything about her was me.
Though I wished for my sake she could've gotten over herself and tried to make an effort to be nice to Jake. He got merit points for at least trying to be nice to my friends.
The same couldn't be said when I was around his friends however…
…After much wheedling from Jake, ("Come on. You have to meet my friends. I've told them so much about you and they all want to meet you"), I found myself pulling into the parking lot of the bowling alley where his friends had agreed to meet us. He could be very persuasive, but my defeat was more credited to the fact that I a sucker. I didn't have it in me to look him in the eyes and tell him no.
At first I was nervous as hell, having no idea what to expect. Spending all night with the Regional crowd was a frightening thought. What if they hated me because I was from Central Valley? What if I made an idiot out of myself? But, then again, Jake came from Regional and we got along great, I reminded myself, as I scanned the parking lot for an open space.
They'll probably be like Jake and there'll nothing to worry about, I decided. Hell, I'll probably have a great time with Jake… For some reason Shelby's immortal words of "It's not like you guys are dating" rang in my head. Oh, right. This wasn't a date. I was meeting his friends. Must've gotten a little over-excited.
...and his friends too, I added ruefully to satisfy the little Shelby my head. Be positive, Kyle. Stay positive. It could still happen. Having an in with his friends will make me look better to Jake.
It was a rainy evening and the parking lot was packed with cars, all nicer, I noticed with a jolt of horror, than mine. That wasn't an encouraging sign. I circled a couple times, and to my complete amazement found a spot right near the door.
"Dibs!" I announced to the guy who was also eying my space from his Mercedes and most likely didn't hear me. I stomped on my gas pedal, and after a challenging look, Mr. Mercedes accelerated as well. I had gotten a split second head start and was all set to cruise into the space, when Jake stopped me.
"Oh, be a good sport and let him have it. I was actually hoping we could park further anyways."
He caught me off guard and I brought my Jeep to a lurching stop, half-in and half-out of the parking space, much the chagrin of the guy in the shiny hundred-thousand dollar car. He neither got his space, nor could he get past. "It's raining," I said disbelievingly.
"I know that," Jake said matter-of-factly. "But I was still wondering if we could park further. Walking won't kill us, but it just might kill the rich bastard over there."
"But it's raining," I repeated. Raining hard.
I didn't want to meet his friends looking half-drowned and I couldn't understand why Jake didn't get it; he didn't get what was wrong with taking a little walk in the pouring rain. The Jeep remained stationary and Mr. Mercedes honked at me. "Hang on a minute," I snapped at him. He didn't hear this of course, but somehow understood my message because he threw his hands impatiently up in the air as if to say "Come on already".
"Kyle," Jake said with a note of urgency in his voice, "can you please just park further away?"
And suddenly I caught on. He was ashamed by my car and didn't want his friends to see him step out of or get back into it. His friends obviously cared about immaterial things like cars. That was the first signal that I should turn and run the other direction from them.
"Okay, Your Majesty," I said snippily, taking the insult he directed at my car personally. If that poor old Jeep wasn't good even to be seen maybe I wasn't fit to be presented to these people either. "While I'm at it, should I run back to my house and change?"
"Don't be like that," Jake coaxed. "It's just that I have an image to uphold. I was soccer captain before I left and…" I snorted and tuned the rest of it out. Said the guy whose wardrobe consisted of ripped jeans and faded t-shirts.
Though tonight, he was looking considerably more polished.
"Real friends like you for who you are, not for what you have," I grumbled under my breath, switching the gearshift into reverse and beginning to back slowly out of the space. The best space on the lot and I was surrendering it to some snob in a Mercedes. His car obviously made him better than me.
"Hang on," Jake said. Cue lurching stop. When he wore my breaks out, he was replacing them—and it was coming out of his pay check. He opened his door. "I don't want to get wet," he explained. "Behind the SUV should be good," he suggested, before making a mad dash over to the front door of the building.
I sat gaping after him for a full minute before my superior in the Mercedes lightly honked to remind me that he was still waiting for his spot. "Sorry," I mumbled, forgetting again that there was two windows' worth of glass and about twenty feet separating us. I pulled out of the space and drove off to hide next to the SUV where I seemed to belong.
Was I offended? Definitely. I had just been treated like a lesser person. By Jake of all people. Like I was his personal chauffeur. Was I confused? Hell yeah. Where had all of this snobbishness suddenly come from? It was like he was another person entirely, an impostor wearing a perfect mask.
That was signal number two that I should be bailing.
But for some stupid reason, I found myself running in the wrong direction. Through the rain towards the door. Jake was kind of enough to wait for me. "You're soaked," Mr. State-the-Obvious stated obviously. "Hope they let you in."
"Because it would be a complete tragedy if they didn't," I said venomously, though more to myself. I let myself in. Jake walked into the door because he must've been expecting my services to extend here. He laughed it off and followed me into the bowling alley.
It was noisy as anything and packed with people, ranging probably from ages five to eighty. There were teenagers of course, occupying every other lane, families with kids, a senior bowling league who stayed quietly out of the way, and packs of preteens, who were admiring the football players.
I did a double take. Sure enough at the last three lanes was a handful of them—an assortment of both the cheerleaders and members of the Regional football team. There was no mistaking the jackets many wore.
Rival football players and cheerleaders. Two of my least favorite things in the world. A bad night suddenly got much worse. Hopefully we wouldn't be assigned to a lane near them.
"So where are your friends?" I asked Jake, when he held up an acknowledging hand. I looked around, but nobody really looked like the type of person a rugged soccer playing skater would hang out with.
"All the way at the end," he said loudly, to be heard over the noise, and pointed. "Those assholes; they already started without us." My stomach plummeted in horror. He was friends with those guys? Fuck. I didn't play well with snobs. They had to be snobs if Jake, who was usually the sweetest, most down-to-earth person you could find, turned into a snob.
He started over, but I didn't move. Go over and meet them? No thank you. It was better for everybody if I stayed here.
"Come on," Jake insisted, but when he still got no reaction aside from a firm headshake, he caught hold of my wrist and lightly tugged me along behind him. He was much stronger than I was and seemed oblivious to the fact that I was resisting with all my might.
"The only ones you have to watch out for are Pete and Charlie, they tend to cheat," he commented nonchalantly, as though that solved everything.
Cheating was the very least of my concerns right now. I was scared to meet them because if they were snobs, I might seriously say something I would regret. Insulting Jake's friends would be a sure-fire way to alienate him. Also high up on the list was the worry that Jake might snap my wrist if he didn't ease up on it.
When the greetings were over, he introduced me. "I want you all to meet Kyle." Kyle didn't want to meet them.
And everybody peered haughtily at me.
I had expected this of course, but mental preparation and the real thing were two completely different things. My words stuck in my throat and I couldn't even choke out the word "hi". A strange sensation swept over me, almost as if I was shrinking, like they were getting taller. My heart began to skip faster against my ribcage. Oh, God. I hadn't felt like this, been treated like this, since middle school. They were all staring at me, judging me. I wanted to disappear, or at the very least to hide behind Jake.
These were the kind of people who once made my life hell and I went out of my way to avoid. And here I was—surrounded by them.
Why wouldn't somebody say something? Why did they just keep looking at me? I mean, it wasn't like I was a lesser person than they were. I was every bit as popular at my school as they were at theirs.
I was hit with my first bit of common sense all evening. Get the fuck out of here. My feet were carrying me off across the commercial-print floor before my brain had even given the command.
"Sorry," Jake apologized for me, "she's kind of shy." 'Image' temporarily set aside, he half-jogged to catch up with me. "What is wrong with you tonight?" he asked more harshly than he intended.
"Nothing," I lied, "I just don't feel like bowling tonight." Jake raised an eyebrow at me, not fooled in the least. If he wanted the truth, I'd give him the truth. "I have better things to do than hang with materialistic snobs, thanks," I said in a much firmer voice.
"Hey," Jake said warningly, "those guys are my friends."
"I was talking about you," I said scathingly, annoyed by the incredulous look that flickered across his face.
"How am I being a snob?" he demanded.
"Well… where to start? So, first you're embarrassed to be seen in my car when you've never minded me carting you around before. And let's see… 'You can park behind the SUV on the other end of the fucking parking lot while I get dropped off at the curb because I don't want to get wet'! Where did all this come from? Unless this is how you normally are?"
Along with everyone else in the bowling alley, Jake was staring at me in disbelief. "I'm sorry," he offered, which was spectacularly unimpressive after my passionate rant. "I shouldn't have treated you like that. But it's just…my image…my friends…"
"We were friends," I reminded him. "And you never acted like this towards me." No, he had to be completely sweet and irresistible and make me fall completely in love with and in turn make myself look like an ass.
"I never needed to be like that around you. For some weird reason, you always just liked me. Do you have any idea how nice it is not to have to earn someone's friendship? That's why I value our friendship more than almost any I have...
I really am sorry," he finished. "Are we still friends?" He outstretched his arms in what may've seemed like a helpless gesture but I took the initiative to walk into them. His arms came up around me and he hugged me. Tightly. He gave good hugs. And the last of my resentment melted the second I was against his firm chest and breathed the musky scent of his cologne.
Maybe I was a sucker, but how could I not forgive him? He was so fucking cute and he genuinely cared about me. 'That's why I value our friendship more than almost any I have.'
Friends sometimes had to make sacrifices for other friends. Even if it meant spending the night with the Regional snobs. Bravely I followed him back to the football players and cheerleaders.
The second time back wasn't horrible, or even bad.
Everybody was civil, and actually decided to acknowledge me when Jake introduced them, so I figured I could be civil too. I was even friendly to the more welcoming members of the group.
"So what do you guys say to getting something to eat?" suggested the guy Jake had introduced as Logan. "I'm starving."
"You just want to go check out those chicks over there," scoffed a member of the offense named Randy, nevertheless swiveling round to look. "I'd say that's a seven, eight-and-a-half, oh, a nine…" Every male head whipped round, enabling them to gawk at the mini-skirted and tight-jeaned jailbait. (They couldn't have been older than fifteen). Somebody wolf-whistled.
"Damn, wish they looked like that at our school." And several other comments followed, many of which were over PG-13 and a nearby mother actually clamped her hands over the ears of her small boy and glared at us.
The cheerleaders looked unimpressed, and I couldn't resist rolling my eyes. Guys always acted like assholes when they were around their friends. The other girls were less forgiving.
"And this is why we don't take you guys out in public," the girl Erin sighed.
"They look like sluts," sneered Kirsten. "You don't know where they've been."
"But they're hot," Logan explained serenely as though that solved everything. "And I'm hot, so everything works out alright." Several of the other guys made gagging noises.
All but Scott, who said in an extremely feminine voice, "I think you're sexy, Logan." He then proceeded to climb onto Logan's lap and both of them gave a couple of loud, fake moans. "Oh, Logan. "Oh, Scott."
The senior citizens looked scandalized.
"Oh…my…God, you guys are idiots," one of the snobbier-looking blonde girls whose name I hadn't bothered to learn seethed.
"Get out of here already and go pick up your sluts," commanded Jamie. "They kind of know you're interested and it's not really like any more people could stare at us."
Scott dropped one hand on Logan's shoulder and looked him deeply in the eyes. "It's not me," he said in a perfect choked-up break-up voice. "It's you…"
"Man, forget you," Logan said, pushing Scott unceremoniously to the floor. "Dibs on the redhead." Most of the guys got up and meandered casually over to the snack bar.
"God, men are such pigs," Jake, one of few to remain, commented in an extremely gay-sounding voice. He threw himself down into a seat and crossed his legs in a girly fashion. "But whatever."
Scary just how he good he sounded. But if you lived with five sisters, I was pretty sure you picked up on it easily. We all cracked up.
It wasn't in the nature of a guy to go to a snack bar and not come back with something to eat. Even Jake got up to get something to eat. He shared both the nachos he bought and my seat with me and kept trying to bring me into the conversation. (I was so lost I eventually withdrew myself from the conversation—which consisted primarily of Regional affairs—both figuratively and literally, and school things like who succeeded Jake as soccer captain, and what teacher was a bitch and why).
I contented myself to sitting there and looking like Jake's girlfriend. Though I had to sit on my hands to keep me from taking his and really getting into character. But we were believable enough-looking.
I wasn't oblivious to the fact that a few people sent questioning stares at us, and some of the cheerleaders, particularly the voluptuous blonde snot, looked furious. She kept butting into our conversation, but only addressed Jake.
But rather than be annoyed, I was delighted. They thought Jake and I were a couple, and I relished in the fact that I had single-handedly made some popular and really pretty girls jealous. Clearly Jake was an Item at Regional too. Though I was less than thrilled when I learned that those popular, pretty girls were going to be my teammates.
There were too many people to a lane already and some of the guys complained that it took almost an hour to get through one game. So with the addition of two more people, opening a new lane was a must. I punched my name in on the screen and was extremely surprised when the bitchy blonde typed in her name—Amber—in after mine. I looked incredulously at her and she smiled sweetly back at me.
So this was the famous Amber whom Jake spent every moment texting. I was struck with a sudden longing to drop a fifteen-pound bowling ball on her foot. I grimaced back at her and generously moved aside so her three identical followers could enter their names.
"I'm joining this team," Jake announced punching his name in after Chloe.
Amber reached out a manicured hand and cleared his name off. "This is a girl team," she said, smiling flirtatiously up at him. "No boys allowed."
"Somebody has to show you all how it's done," Jake joked. She threw back her blond hair and laughed, lightly swatting his arm.
"You are too funny."
Sickening. Her fake manner. Her fake tan. The way she laughed and constantly…kept…touching…Jake.
And he absolutely loved it.
I felt like I was going to vomit or at the very least say something nasty, so I stalked off to get a ball. "She's a slut," I told the colorful assortment of balls. "What the hell does he see in her? And that was rhetorical!" I snapped at Pete, who simply grinned and swapped his fourteen-pound ball with a thirteen-pounder.
Pretending that it was Amber's face on all of the pins was an effective strategy. My game had never been better. In the first couple frames, I got two strikes back-to-back and then a spare. My mad bowling skills went unnoticed by every guy but Jake, who had his googly eyes fixed on the bimbo next to him.
"Hate to interrupt," I interrupted, reaching in between them to get my water bottle, "but Amber, it's your turn." She parted very slowly from Jake and headed out to the lane. I hated how she could make the wooden floor of a bowling alley look like a catwalk.
"Oops," she said with a maddening giggle as a bright pink ball slowly rolled down the lane in the gutter. "Gutter ball." She had all but dropped it into the gutter. Another gutter ball later and she was skipping lightly back to Jake's side.
Her clones all went and then it was Jake's turn. He took down eight pins and while he was deliberating the best way to knock down the two on opposite sides of the lane, it gave Amber and her friends the opportunity to interrogate me about him.
"So, are you guys together?" Amber, who didn't bother sugarcoating anything, demanded of me. "Because Jake talks about you a lot. Kyle did this. Kyle did that. I can't hang out with you because I'm hanging out with Kyle. At first I thought you were a guy." She gave a tinkling laugh.
"Join the club," I growled under my breath. "No, we're just friends," I said aloud, kicking myself as soon as the words were out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I had just given her the okay to move in on my man. "With benefits," I added hurriedly, "we hook up all the time..." Wishful thinking on my part and completely unnecessary because Amber had become decidedly deaf.
"Would you care if we went out?" she inquired. "I mean I would hate for that to make things weird for everybody." Even if I did and even if it did, I suspected she wouldn't care. So long as she got her prize, I knew she would get over it.
"If it made Jake happy, then sure, I guess." No, no, no, dumbass, what were you saying?! Wrong thing to say to someone like that. Why would I even give my consent, period? This was my guy I was handing off.
"You know," Amber gushed, "you are such a good friend."
And you are such a two-faced bitch, I thought. Thank god I have self-control. Since I unfortunately had to rule out punching her and wrecking that pretty face of hers, there was only one thing left to do.
Beat her to Jake and tell him that I was in love with him.
A/N: I have to say I love this chapter. No more smooth sailings for Kyle from here on out.
So I need to find pictures of everybody else (Kyle's friends, sisters, and our new villianness). If you guys come across any pictures you think fit a character, send me a link. I didn't ever describe Joey or Shelby, so I'm open to different ideas. That would be greatly appreciated, as would be reviews. God, I'm so demanding!
Thanks to AndstillIrise, i v o r y w i n g s, theslykit, funnechick, Samy K, Maida, .Bunny., Kahoi2iHim3, tree of life and shadow, A.H. Fenald, Sworn-Into-Secrecy, Leerun, NattyAwesome, RainingTopaz, sarcasmismymiddlename, and awesomelyme.
Sarcasmismymiddlename: If Kennedy gets her way, she is sure going to try to convert her!
RainingTopaz: She'll tell him, but it may or may not be under the most pleasant of circumstances. Sorry for being vague, but I can't give anything away!
Kahoi2iHim3: The skating is a good idea. I think I can work that into the next chapter.
Funnechick: Surprise! Jake has found a loophole by pursuing girls who go to his old school. Much harder for Kyle to intervene then. ;)