Achieving Unbroken
Chapter Twenty Eight

—

"I can't really tell why there's hills on my skin
When you're whispering all your intentions;
I don't really know why my heart skips a beat
When you get too close"
First Love | Lost Kings Feat. Sabrina Carpenter

—

Lilla
[Saturday, June 12th, 2018]

Jason and I sit in a pleasant silence for the few first minutes of the drive to his house. I gaze around at the houses that we pass, but soon switch my focus onto Jason; whose gaze is dead set on the road.

It's nice to look at him from this angle, when my heart isn't pounding because he's so close in proximity and he isn't sad or anxious. This is Jason, just Jason, driving these streets that he has known for years. This is Jason in his simplest form. Seeing him like this makes me smile, just a little.

His honey eyes glow in the light of day turning into evening, his muscles flex and his jaw shifts as he turns every corner. I feel my hand itch to touch him, his face, his sharp jawline. Obviously, I don't, because that's fucking weird. But I want to. And maybe one day I will.

"Something on my face?" His voice breaks the silence, scaring me so bad that my hand flips up and right into the door, ringing out a clean slap. Pain rushes through my fingers and knuckles. "Shit, are you okay?"

I nod, squeezing the fingers of my right hand.

"Fine." His right arm reaches out to me, hand brushing over my joined ones, and I take the hint. Hesitantly, I pull my right hand from my left and bring it to his extended one. He squeezes it, like I was just doing, and runs his thumb over my knuckles. My heart skips. "And no, nothing on your face. Just... Staring."

He pulls his hand away, and my right hand feels cold. I notice him steal a glance at me as we come up to a red light.

"Didn't your parents teach you that it's impolite to stare?"

"They did. But I do it all the time without realizing it."

"Am I just that attractive?"

I roll my eyes, leaving him without a response. The light turns green, and we start to move. As the car speeds up, there is movement out of the corner of my eye, and it continues for the next minute. I can see Jason turning his head to face me, but I don't know if he's looking at me or not. Throwing doubts out of my head, I push my limits.

"Something on my face?" I smirk.

"Just staring."

"Didn't your parents teach you that it's impolite to stare?"

"They did. But I couldn't help myself."

He went off script. I crane my head to his direction, taken by surprise by his boldness. There's a victorious smile on his face, almost like he knows that I literally feel like I could spontaneously combust at any moment.

Girl, you need some milk. You guys are friends. Stop.

"Home sweet home," he interrupts my internal speech as he turns the car into the driveway.

"Why was I so excited about this again?" I ask to no one in particular when I feel my stomach churn and legs wobble while getting out of the car.

"I don't know," Jason answers honestly, shrugging his shoulders.

We walk shoulder-to-shoulder to his front door, and break apart when he pulls out his keys to unlock it. "We're back!" He yells into the empty hallway.

"Lilla!" I hear, loud and clear, followed by footsteps barreling down the stairs. Carl runs up to me and engulfs me into a lung-crushing hug. He's grown, I think to myself when I notice how his arms actually wrap around my waist.

"Carl, oh my God!" I hug him back. "Dude, how have you been? You have to tell me all about what you've been learning lately, how school is—"

"Lilla?" Someone questions. Penelope enters from the kitchen, and gives me a welcoming smile. "Oh, Sweetheart, welcome back." She comes towards me, arms wide open, and I gladly return the hug. "How are you? It's been ages—"

"Is that Lilla?" A gruff voice questions. I glance at Jason, knowing what's to come: his father, who I know he hasn't been on the best terms with recently.

"Yes, Mr. Oakland, it's me." Jason's Dad enters from a hallway behind the staircase, and I assume that he was just in his office. I have only met him a few times, and even then, they were short interactions.

"Please, call me Stephen. It's great to see you, Lilla." The two of us shake hands and give one another kind smiles. I can tell Jason is a little nervous, so I inch myself back a step so that I am standing next to him. I don't know if his family notices.

"So, does chicken parm sound good?" Penelope pipes up. Her eyes are locked on me, and my jaw drops.

"You made your chicken parm? Gosh, it feels like it's been forever. I can't wait."

She beams at me, and then claps her hands. It seems to signify something, because the guys all start towards the kitchen, Jason grabbing my hand and bringing me with him.

"Stephen, you do drinks; Carl, you're on silverware; and Jason, please set plates up at the table."

"Is there anything that I can do, Penelope?" She's about to wave my question off, and give me the whole "You're our guest, you don't have to do anything" rant, but her facial expression changes.

"There are a few platters and bowls that I need to get down for the chicken, salad, and bread," she thinks aloud. "Right up in that cupboard, top shelf. You're taller than me, so you can reach them. They're white with the scalloped edges."

Only needing to elevate myself on my toes a little bit, I successfully retrieve the dinnerware and arrange it on the counter for Penelope.

"Perfect, thank you. Go sit down, I'll plate this up."

I nod in acknowledgment, and make my way to the dining room where all of the guys have already seated themselves. There's an empty seat at the head of the table, and to the left of that is Stephen and Carl. To the right of it is another empty seat and Jason.

"Right here," Jason pats the chair next to him. As I take my seat, I notice Stephen looking at me. It isn't weird or invasive, but he's looking at me; like something has changed. I shift in my seat uncomfortably.

"Am I crazy or is your dad staring at me?" I subtly whisper into Jason's ear.

"You're in Joey's old chair," he replies. I snap my head back to fully face Jason, eyes wide. "No one has sat in it since... Until now."

Suddenly, I feel like I'm intruding. I feel like I'm breaking something, or dishonoring something. I feel bad.

I try to stand up but the chairs don't scoot back very easily.

"I need to switch seats," I tell Jason. He puts his hand on my leg and lightly pushes me back into the chair.

"No. I put a plate there on purpose. Please, don't feel weird about it. I want you there."

My muscles lock up. He wants me here. I have to stay.

"Okay, people, I hope you're hungry," Penelope announces as she enters the dining room. There is a large bowl of salad in her hands, a bowl that I fear she almost drops when she sees me in Joey's chair. I shift my hand so that it is covering Jason's hand that still hasn't left my leg. It comforts me. "I'll be back with the chicken and the bread," she excuses herself.

"She's upset," I say quietly to Jason.

"She's fine," he responds. I squeeze his hand.

Penelope comes back with the rest of the food, and then finally takes her seat at the head of the table. We all start to dish up at once. When the five of us all are content with our portion sizes, she is the one to start up conversation.

"So, Lilla, I've tried to badger Jason but he's always reluctant to give details. What got you guys talking again?"

Concerned about the right way to answer the question, I look to Jason. He nods at me — telling me to keep going — with a noticeable glint in his eyes.

"Um... I don't know if you guys remember that fight from a couple months ago? I helped clean him up. And after he came back from suspension, I tried to talk to him more, and he didn't push me away. So we kept talking."

"God, do I remember that fight," Stephen mumbles under his breath before sitting up straighter. "Well, thank you for helping Jason. He's been really excited to have more people to talk to at school, especially you."

Jason clears his throat.

"You okay there, Son?" Jason's dad inquires smugly. Jason gives him a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod.

"Of course, Dad."

There is a pause in conversation; the only noice being the clanking of forks and spoons.

"Penelope, how have things been at the hospital?"

—

Dinner went by fast and argument free. That's not to say it wasn't a little tense, but Jason and I made it through. Afterwards, Carl wanted to show me his room and new books, so I checked it out as quickly as possible, because there was something else I wanted to see.

"So, this is your room."

Jason's bedroom is painted a shade of blue that is just a smidge darker than sky blue. His bedding is charcoal grey, and he's got a closet on the opposite side of his room from the door. There's a window with a view of the spacious backyard, and a desk adjacent to the entrance.

"Yep. Nothing special," he comments as he jumps on his bed. I giggle.

"It's cool though. All of your football trophies on the dresser, your homework on your desk... Half finished." I observe with a highly judgmental tone.

"Your room is cooler." Jason's voice is muffled by the pillow he has buried his face into.

"It doesn't smell bad in here either," I tell him, ignoring his previous statement. "What's your secret, Febreeze?"

"I'm not a slob," he groans, sitting up. "What's your interest in my room, anyways?"

I shrug, continuing my stroll around his space.

"I don't know. There's just a personal, get-to-know-you factor about being in somebody's bedroom. It's their place, and you're being let inside of it. It's oddly intimate."

I pause my observations of the posters on Jason's walls to look at him, only to see him staring at me like I'm ridiculous.

"It's weird, isn't it?" I move my gaze to anywhere but him.

"No! No, it's not. I've just never heard anyone say something like that about a bedroom before. If I put that much depth into everything that I say in English, I might be able to raise my B."

I laugh, thinking about the fact that he has a B in English. I'll add that to the list of things we need to work on for senior year.

"Wanna watch something?" Jason puts my thoughts on pause — again — as he waves the remote control to his television in his hand.

"Like what?" I question teasingly, moving to sit next to him on the bed. It sinks under me and is extremely comfortable. We are so close that I feel him shrug beside me.

"I don't know. Anything that's on TV?" He offers. Looking up at him, I smile; content to do this for hours on end.

"Sounds good to me."