Imogen had never been open with her issues with Luke. Sure, she was close with Bianca and Fiona, but she could never open up with some of the things Luke did. And for a time, Imogen herself didnāt really care about the issues, nor did she see them. For Imogen, Luke was always stable. No matter how much of a jackass he could be, he was reliable. Not that Jake wasnāt, but still, he already proved to her that in a state of unrest heād flee and with her life, the way things were with her dad and with Natalie, Imogen needed someone who would be there always. It was selfish, and she was ashamed of it, but she needed someone who was there for her. But standing there with Jake, it was stupid to think sheād doubted him because of this other fear: that if she opened herself up to him thatād heād leave her like everyone else had in the past.
She felt herself be swept away in his kiss, wanting desperately to melt into him. In the haze of her mind, she couldnāt help but wonder how sheād kept herself away all this time. Sheād kissed him once, and that feeling of her senses awakening had happened, and somehow sheād fled him, it was crazy. How had she even left him after a kiss like that? When she gasped for air, her eyes sparkled when she saw him put the joint back in his pocket. Imogenās heart skipped a beat at his words, and her cheeks burned. Leaning back into his kiss, ready to be swept away once again, her mind played the cruelest trick of them all. Just before his lips connected with herās, all she could see was Lukeās face - hurt, defeated, betrayed⦠the face heād worn at the dance, when heād broken up with her. Jakeās lips hit herās and for a second she stood there like a dead fish, unable to shake the image. Pulling back, she looked down at their shoes, the guilt flooding her to the brim. She had to talk to Luke. She had to apologize.
Unable to look Jake in the eye for a moment, she looked over at his tomato plants, trying to regain her composure. āSorry.ā Her voice was quiet, and she realized she was about to cry and shut her eyes for a minute, regrouping. āIām really sorry, I just⦠I have to go, Iām sorry.ā She finally looked at him, guilt etching her features and then she looked back down at the ground.Ā
Most days, Jake felt like he was far more of a realist than anything else, but as he held Imogen's small frame so close, he felt like one of the hopeless romantics, and he actually liked it. It didn't feel scary like he thought it would, it felt natural and exciting. The taste of her lips left him wanting more, and for the first time in his life, he didn't see the end of something before it could ever truly start. He wanted for this to be different than anything he had ever done before. He needed it to be. He knew that he couldn't let himself be the guy who closed up the second someone starting getting too close. It was time for him, to coin a phrase, turn over a new leaf. He didn't know what was coming next for them, but that held the excitement of doing this relationship thing.Ā He wanted their lips to melt together again, and for him to be able to get lost in her taste, but as soon as their lips met again, he could tell something had changed. Immediately, a million things ran through his mind of what could have gone wrong, but the change had been so sudden, none of it seemed to add up. The only thing that made any sense at all what that maybe she thought he was a bad kisser, but he didn't think she had had a problem with it just moments before. Too much tongue? Too little? Was he holding her too tightly? Did he have a weird taste in his mouth? What had he eaten for lunch? Why hadn't he brought a toothbrush or gum or mints with him to school, today? Though the kiss was hardly more than a second long, all of those little worries had managed to course through him. He was used to fucking things up, but he had never managed to do it in that small of time. Could something like that be considered a personal best? As she pulled away, he couldn't help the small sigh that had escaped his lips as he slouched against the greenhouse and concentrated on his frayed shoelaces. Before he could apologize, though, he heard her do so, and, again, he didn't understand. He was the one who screwed things up, not her. What could she be sorry for? But before he could even ask her what was going on, she was talking about how she had to go. He didn't know where she had to go or what could possibly be more important than continuing what they had started. He opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again before giving her a nod. He knew that one of the key things in a relationship was supposed to be trust. He met her eyes once more and gave a second nod, "Okay. Just-" he started, "Call me later or something?" he asked, trying to remain collected.







