The Thing About Flip Flops

Chapter Twenty: Jack Golden, Legend Among Cowboys

Oh my god. I fell asleep in Jack Golden's bed.

With Jack Golden.

In his bed.

Oh my god.

...Can I do it again?

It's morning. I can tell from the way the light shines through the blinds. The bed I'm in, Jack's (if I remember last night correctly), smells disgustingly like cheese and chocolate with an underlying scent of oranges. That's probably the Fanta he poured on me.

Something is tickling the bottom of my chin.

I open my eyes to find Jack's head resting just under mine, his nose brushing my collarbone. We're closer than where we were last night when we fell asleep, or maybe my sleep-deprived brain just didn't realize.

My stomach is pressed up against his chest and my toes come to his knees. I take notice of the fact that both of our shirts have been pushed upwards due to us moving around in the night. His bare stomach feels nice against mine. I can feel his eyelashes against my neck. I close my eyes again, not sleeping, just enjoying the fluttery feeling.

I open my eyes again to take in the room. It's more messy than I remember it being. Jack's going to have a hard time cleaning this up.

Too bad I'm suffering from a painful break-up and can't help him.

The blankets from earlier have been draped over both of us, which I don't remember Jack or myself doing, but I might just be forgetting. My jeans are digging into my hips, since I haven't taken them off since yesterday. My shirt feels sticky from the food.

Shit. I'm feeling a sneeze coming. "Ah-choo!" I can't stop it from escaping. The noise makes Jack shift and open his eyes.

"Wha... ew," he mutters drowsily, blinking against my neck.

I lean back from him, giving him space. I try to pull down my shirt without him noticing, but I think he catches me from the way his eyes linger on my bare stomach before flitting up to meet mine, looking darker than usual.

"Sorry." I rub my eyes with one hand. He sits up very fast and looks down at me.

"What the hell? What are you doing here? I thought-" He begins, looking confused until he notices the various snack packages and carrots strewn across the room. He frowns. "Oh. Right."

I don't want to move. I don't want to get up. I do want him to lie down, though. It's like he reads my mind.

"Can we just stay here for a while?" He says, his voice still muddled from sleep. I nod as he lays back down, pulling the blanket up over both our shoulders.

We're face to face now, since he has shifted his body upwards.

The corners of Jack's mouth turn up, showing perfectly white teeth and adorable dimples. He reaches up to poke my cheek. I try to swat his hand away as he moves to poke my other cheek, but I'm too tired and he's too fast.

"Stop. You're so annoying." I say, trying to fight a smile. I poke one of his dimples, and then the other one. He doesn't stop me. This surprises me. Instead, he just smiles more.

"Not a word of this to anyone," Jack warns me, but we're both still giggling. I mean, this is weird. Neither of us are the type to constantly smile, even though I do it more often than he does.

"I can't promise that," I whisper meaningfully, but I'm still giggling.

"You'd better."

"Don't want your bad reputation tarnished?" I ask with a smirk, and he gets up.

"That's it. I don't know why you're always acting like I'm this big, mean, tough douche. Where does that idea even come from?"

"Ooh. Let's see. The vibes, Jack. It's always like, Don't talk to me, I'm cooler than you. I'm gonna beat you up. Ha, ha, ha. I listen to emo rock because I'm edgy. Also I smoke, so don't cross me."

"A, I don't smoke. Or listen to emo rock. That shit's not my thing."

"And here, I had you pegged for a death metal fanatic! What, do you prefer country?" I gasp in delight, "Hey, if I bought you a cowboy hat would you wear it?"

"Find your happy place, Jack," he mutters to himself.

"Jack Golden, legend among cowboys."

He snorts, "Have you ever seen a cowboy in your life? Do I look like a cowboy?"

I ignore him. "Oh and please, I don't listen to emo rock, my ass. Don't look at me like that, you act like I can't see all your band posters," I laugh and he rolls his eyes in exasperation.

"Are you always this talkative in the morning? Because if you are then I'd like to express that I regret many of my life decisions.

I continue, "I'm just making a point. You act like you're tough and badass when in reality, you're..."

He quirks an eyebrow at me, a weird expression on his face. "I'm what? Perfect? Sexy? Absolutely and completely charming in every way?"

I roll my eyes. "I was going to say, a semi-decent guy. Sometimes. But now I'm regretting it."

"Whatever."

"See? There it is again. You've got walls up, Jack."

He rolls his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do. Plus, you barely even smile in public."

"I do too. See?" He makes his face into the fakest happy expression I've ever seen. He looks like a depressed chipmunk. It makes me snicker.

"But we're not in public, so that doesn't count."

"Very true."

It's quiet as I look at him and he looks at me for a second too long.

I close my eyes to get rid of the quiet tension pulling at us and turn around, my back to him. He shifts a bit closer and throws an arm over my waist, holding me tighter. My cheeks heat up and I close my eyes so that I can just relax like this.

His face is buried between my shoulders, and I'm sure our position looks far less intimate than it actually feels.

***

Sometime afterwards, we remember that we have school. We formulate a plan to sneak me out, then get me back home to change quickly without arousing too much suspicion.

I'm somewhat relieved that Jack is back to normal when he comes out of the shower. No more hysterical, out of character laughter or sleepy, adorable sunshineyness (is that a word?). He's still his usual, sarcastic, dry-humored self. It's good to know he also has a goofy and cute side, though.

I take my turn in the bathroom, borrowing a t-shirt and jeans from the Goldens' dryer. They belong to Jack's brother. Apparently, since Mike is tall for fourteen, he's the same size as an eighteen year old girl. I don't believe this until I try on the pants and - wow - they fit. Next time I go shopping I'm going in the men's section. These things they call pockets are magnificent.

Once we're both showered and feeling much cleaner, we devise a plan. It's too early and I don't really want to drive home until after breakfast, so I'm going to sneak out of the window and meet Jack at the front door, where he will welcome me inside and tell his parents that I'm here for breakfast.

The window thing sounds dangerous, but when I look out I realize that the roof is gently sloped and it's only around five feet off the ground at the edge of it.

I make it to the front door okay, worried that when I meet Jack's parents and brother, they will recognize my clothes. I judge the time - seven thirty - and decide to do something kinda risky - I duck behind a bush to switch my t-shirt inside out. Not great, but it'll do.

I pluck up my courage and ring the doorbell.