Page 75 of The Beta Test

“Yeah. And M&Ms, popcorn, chips. All the good stuff.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to just ask him if he’s Mr. Pi, but I don’t. It doesn’t feel like a conversation I want to have right now, especially as we are currently walking into a room full of people. I see Jenna, Amanda, Dan (ugh, why) and others, all laughing and tangled up with one another in a game of twister.

“What in the world,” I mutter, which makes Jake chuckle beside me.

“You and I are in the next round,” he tells me.

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the way my lips curve. After everything that happened with Braden, the lighthearted fun with friends seems like the perfect thing to distract me.

“Three, two, one! Happy New Year!” The den erupts. Hugs and cheek-kisses make their rounds, though I determinedly spin the opposite direction any time Dan comes near. Jake catches my eye from across the room and raises a red vine like a champagne glass. I raise my red solo cup in response, and something warm settles in my chest that has nothing to do with the sparkling cider. I look away quickly.

Eventually the energy winds down and people start collecting their things. Jenna asks me to stay over, but I'm babysitting Hunter tomorrow, so I grab my bag and start searching for Mom's holiday plate—she'll kill me if I leave it behind. It was my grandmother’s. A glance around the den coffee table reveals an empty spot where the cookies used to be. Predictably, I got too competitive with the games to eat a single one. Braden certainly called that.

The kitchen counter is clear except for a small stack of mail and some cups leftover from the party. Steps sound behind me—I turn to find Jake has followed me.

“Hey, Jake. Have you seen the⁠—”

Jake holds up a finger in the universal sign for ‘wait a moment.’ He walks to the pantry door and opens it, reaches in and steps back holding the exact plate I’d been looking for. When he reaches me, I see there are two cookies left on it, carefully wrapped in plastic wrap.

“I moved them in here when I saw they were almost gone so I could save you one,” he says. “You know how Jenna can get with cookies.”

My body tingles. Like some irreversible chemical reaction is happening.

I glance up at Jake's open face as my emotions riot.

He’s tall and strong. The baby fat on his face has melted, showing every curve and line of his features. Even in this low light, I can see light stubble lining his chin and his hair is tousled just so from a night of relaxing and playing games.

He’s also kind and good. The way he’s looked out for me, over and over again, stands out in my mind like a beacon. He’s shown me I can count on him.

I’m not sure how to see Jake as I would any other guy, or how to repaint my history with him now that I know—beyond a shadow of a doubt—what everyone else has been saying is true.

Jake does see me. Jake does like me.

I can’t deny it, but I don’t want to voice it either. So I don’t ask him; I only watch him and let that truth settle over me.

He reaches to hand me one of the cookies, then claims the other. He gently “toasts” our cookies before tossing his into his mouth, never breaking eye contact. I should look away. Create some space.

I don’t.

Our eyes remain locked as we finish them in the quiet kitchen. The hum of people leaving or situating themselves for the night has dulled, leaving only the low whirring of the refrigerator and the occasional burst of a voice muffled through shut doors.

This moment shouldn’t be anything—we’re eating cookies in a kitchen. But it’s also more.

“Happy New Year, Avery Marie James.”

“Happy New Year, Jake Reid Taylor.”

He looks pleased—like this quiet little moment is everything. His joy is infectious, and I can’t repress the urge to smile back.

“Well, I should head home. Thanks for saving me a cookie.”

He puts his hand lightly on my lower back as we walk towards the front door, sending shivers through my spine. “Anytime. And hey—maybe we should hang out sometime. Not just for calculus.”

I pause on the front doorstep and glance up at him. His eyes are adorably nervous. In the past, I wouldn't have noticed or would have written it off as something else, but now I see it—all of it—the eagerness in his eyes, the nervous energy radiating lightly from his body language, the fear that I might reject him. He wants this, and he’s putting himself out there to try to make it happen. He knows Braden and I are over and he’s shooting his shot. The question is—do I want this? Honestly, I don’t know. I enjoy Jake, and we’ve grown closer this year. He’s been a faithful friend and brought light to my life during some dark times.

I let out a small breath. “Yeah, maybe.”

His face falls slightly.