Galgorithm (21 page)

47

THE HALF-MOON ILLUMINATING THE
sky is partially obscured by a light mist. This is the price we pay for beautiful weather in Southern California: a monthlong stretch of erratic precipitation known as June Gloom.

It's still warm but starting to drizzle when Jak rushes into my backyard.

“I got here as soon as I could,” she says breathlessly. “Are you okay?”

I'm standing next to the hammock. “I'm fine,” I say. “I'm sorry about the text. I just needed to see you.”

“So it's not an emergency?”

“That depends on your definition of emergency.”

“I don't understand,” she says.

She's wearing skintight jeans and her Led Zeppelin T-shirt.
When she walks toward me, her Chucks make a
crunch crunch crunch
sound in the grass.

“What the . . .”

She stops and bends down to pick up what she's been stepping on. “Are these . . . peanuts?”

“Yeah,” I say. “
Amor y cacahuetes.
Remember? Love and peanuts.”

“Love and peanuts,” she says, nodding.

“Things just haven't been the same between us lately,” I say. “I thought this might be a nice reminder of what we used to share.”

“It is nice,” she says.

Then Jak notices the massive amount of peanuts I have spread throughout the backyard, starting around the hammock in the center and radiating outward. “That's a lot of peanuts,” she says.

“Some of them are cashews. It was the best I could do on short notice.”

Reed convinced me to drop him off in the middle of town. He told me that he'd get home himself, and that I should follow my heart. I rushed to a grocery store near my house that I knew was still open and cleaned them out of nuts. Thank God my parents have more of a social life than me and are out for the night.

“You're probably gonna get invaded by squirrels,” Jak says.

“Let them invade.”

She walks closer to me.
Crunch crunch crunch.
She's ten feet away.

“Jak, I just need to say that nothing matters more to me than our friendship. I will always be your best friend. And if nothing else, all I want to do is lie in this hammock with you and stare up at the stars, like old times.”

Jak glances at the sky.

“It's raining,” she says.

“It'll pass.”

She looks at me.

“Your eye is better.”

I shake my head. I refuse to be sidetracked. “When we were standing in the street, next to that tree, and I told you how I felt about you, and I asked you if you felt the same way, you said no.”

“Yeah . . .”

“Well, I don't believe you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” she asks semiseriously.

“Yes,” I say.

“Shane, why would I make something like that up?”

“Because you have a vivid imagination and a lot of time on your hands.”

She smiles.

Our skin is damp with drizzle, but the mist is so fine we barely even notice.

“I don't think you're being honest with yourself, Jak.”

“How do you know what I'm doing with myself?”

Her phrasing momentarily flusters me. Typical Jak. But I press on.

“Because I know you, Jak. You didn't want me to leave when I crashed your coffee date with Adam. When you held my hand at the smoothie bar, you didn't want to just hold ‘the hand that touched Tristen's boobs.' You wanted to hold
my
hand. You didn't get so goddamn drunk at that party because of Adam or because of Tristen. You did it because of me.”

“Shane . . .”

“Tell me, right here, right now, with a straight face, that you
don't
have feelings for me.”

She doesn't respond.

“Tell me.”

“Shane.”

“Just tell me and I'll stop bothering you.”

“I can't,” she says finally.

“Wait,” I stammer. “You can't tell me you don't have feelings for me because you
don't
? Or you can't tell me you don't have feelings for me because you
do
?”

Why is it always so much more poetic in the movies?

Jak blinks.

“The second one,” she says.

“The second one? The second one is the good one. That means that maybe you
do
have feelings for me!”

“That one,” she confirms.

My heart swells. Knowing her as well as I do, I don't know why I ever expected Jak to actually show emotion. Jak doesn't emote. This is like pulling teeth. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

“So, there's something here,” I say.

“Yes,” she says, biting her lip.

She walks right up to me.
Crunch crunch crunch.

“For how long?” I ask. “How long have you felt this way?”

“I don't know,” she says.

“Have you
always
felt this way?”

“No. I mean, not like this.”

“But when I told you that I loved you . . .”

“I didn't know. I didn't know what I was feeling. I just wanted to protect myself.”

“Okay . . .”

“I was starting to like you. Like,
like you
like you. But then I got scared.”

“Why?”

“Because of what happened with Voldemort. I've seen what happens when you fall for someone. You get in too deep. And then someone gets hurt and someone else gets a horrible nickname.”

“That's not gonna happen with us,” I say.

“How do you know?”

“Because Jak is the only nickname you'll ever have. I promise.”

She manages a smile.

As quickly as it came, the drizzle stops and the mist clears, leaving the half-moon bright in the sky.

“Ever since the party,” she says, “ever since you helped me in the bathtub, I don't know. It's just . . . the way you took care of me that night. The way you
always
take care of me.”

“If you had only
said
something . . .”

“But then the whole Galgorithm thing happened. Why do you think I was so upset? You hurt me so badly, and I hadn't even opened up to you yet. I imagined what would have happened if I had.”

“You know I never meant to hurt you, Jak. You of all people.”

“I know. But at the time I decided I could never say anything and just hoped everything worked itself out.”

“It didn't work itself out,” I admit. “We're not back to normal. But at least now we both know how we feel.”

“I was scared,” she says. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was
okay
to be scared. Like, maybe it's a good thing, or whatever. Maybe it meant it was real. And then you go and do something like this.” She motions to the hammock and the nuts. “I'm not scared anymore.”

A drop of rainwater trickles down from her hair onto her forehead. She wipes it away with her wrist.

“Here,” I say. “I have something for you.” I dig into my pocket and pull out her Fitbit. “Don't worry. It's waterproof.”

She extends her arm and I put it on her wrist. Then I hold her hand.

“Shane Xavier Chambliss,” she says. “I'm feeling a lot of feelings right now, and it's weird.”

“I know. I went through the same thing.”

If only she could just
say
the words I need her to say.

Suddenly she pulls her hand away.

“I can't,” she says. “I'm the responsible one, remember? I can't jeopardize our friendship again.”

“Jak, I don't want to be responsible. I want to be irresponsible. I don't want to be simple. I want to be complicated. I want to be irresponsible and complicated and unpredictable and reckless. That's love.”

She looks at me with those unforgettable eyes and says, “Did you practice that speech?”

She's always had a way with words.

“Jak, I would punch you right now if I didn't want to kiss you so badly.”

“But what if it doesn't work out?”

“Then we'll deal with it then. We've been through worse.”

“Shane,” she says, “I can't lose you again.”

“Jak, my parents waited five years to be together. We've already waited eighteen. I can't wait any longer. This was meant to be. Voldemort, the Galgorithm, it was all leading to this moment, right now, with you.

She extends her hand to me once again. “I'm ready to lie in the hammock now.”

It's about as sentimental as she gets.

I grab her hand and help her into the hammock.
Crunch crunch crunch.
Then I walk around to the other side and get in as well.
Crunch crunch crunch.

We lie side by side, staring off into the sky.

It's so peaceful.

“My butt is wet,” Jak says.

“Mine too.”

She holds my hand.

“Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I told you that I didn't want to be #Shak. What if I said that all I want is for you to be my best friend forever and ever, nothing else, nothing more. Would you be okay with that?”

“Jak, I would do anything for you.”

It's the truth.

She rolls onto her side, puts her head on my shoulder and her hand on my chest.

“Your heart is racing,” she says.

“I'm sorry. I can't help it.”

I can feel her breathing on my neck. She throws her leg over mine and climbs on top of me. The hammock wobbles precariously for a moment and then steadies.

She puts both hands on my chest and looks down at me. Her hair is silhouetted beautifully by the moonlight.

I don't think there has ever been a more perfect moment than this one.

“Don't worry,” Jak whispers. “I won't ruin it.”

Our best friend telepathy has returned.

The cedar trees lining the yard block out all the sound except for our breathing.

“I hear you,” she says.

I hesitate. “Did you say I hear you or I
heart
you?”

She contemplates this. “I
said
I hear you. But I meant to say . . .
I heart you
.”

There are three little words I've been waiting forever for her to utter.

And these are close enough.

“I love you too, Jak.”

She smiles and looks at my lips.

You don't need a formula to figure out what happens next.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Like Lord Voldemort and his Horcruxes, I have left little pieces of my soul in each of my five books.
Galgorithm
, in particular, was a true labor of love. But it is also the product of extraordinary teamwork, for which I am eternally grateful.

I would like to thank my mom, dad, and sister, Caryn, for being tireless cheerleaders, trusted advisors, and my all-time number-one fans. No three humans could ever be as tolerant or supportive. Your contributions to my life are boundless and unconditional, and inspire me each day. I could not have asked for better parents or a more devoted sister. I love you with all my heart.

My intrepid editor, Sara Sargent, would probably object to my use of the word “intrepid,” cross it out, and write:
something funnier?
In truth, she is a whip-smart dynamo who dedicated herself to this project, absorbed many body blows from yours truly, and dished out equal parts comfort and cudgel. First we were strangers. Then we were colleagues. And now we are the best of frenemies.

My agent, Peter McGuigan, is an indispensable part of my career. I can always count on him to dole out sage advice, drop the hammer at the negotiating table, or threaten to beat up unruly fans at my stand-up shows. I am fortunate to have him in my corner, and to have been on the receiving end of so much guidance and so many rounds of beer.

My attorney, Darren Trattner, is the most veteran member of Team Karo and has been calmly steering the ship for more than a decade. The hardest-working man in show business, he still makes time to offer counsel, share wisdom, and take digs at the Yankees. I am perpetually thankful for his diligence, empathy, and insight.

The entire Simon Pulse team has been like a second family, without which this book would certainly not exist. Special thanks to Liesa Abrams, Mara Anasta, Faye Bi, Nicole Ellul, Jessica Handelman, Kayley Hoffman, Mary Marotta, Sarah McCabe, Christina Pecorale, Lucille Rettino, Jennifer Romanello, Teresa Ronquillo, and Carolyn Swerdloff.

A huge thank-you to those who read the book while it was still in its infancy, and those who will continue to sing its praises long after publication: Greg Pedicin, Jeff Greenberg, Josh McGuire, Jessica Regel, Richie Kern, Karen Sherman, Stacey Sakal, Michelle Bontems, Lindsey Rosin, and Katrina Leno.

To my friends and family in New York and Los Angeles: Thank you for having my back all these years, through thick and thin. It means more than you know.

And lastly, to my fans across the country and around the world, thank you for continuing to help make my dreams come true. I promise I'll keep telling jokes as long as you keep laughing. I heart you all.