Heartbreak Boy | VAV's Jacob ✓

iii | witches are real

"What could I possibly do without you?"

That's one question I always have an answer to: Nothing. Jacob Jang can do absolutely nothing without me. He would die without me. And, probably, wouldn't have had reason to beg a soul to play third-wheeler if it weren't for me.

The things I put up with.

I like that part, except I didn't like to openly admit. Hello, it's at his detriment. I could do without the bad labels for now.

So, he literally begged me—sniffed my neck, offered to help with my project, sniffed some more. I can't believe I said a bloody yes.

Then again, had I really been presented with much of a choice?

They say there is no love greater than a platonic one. Well that's their call. I, on the other hand, call bullshit. When placed in a dilemma where you want more than just friends, platonic becomes a pain in the arse.

The temperature in the room drops ridiculously. Minus-zero and counting.

My cheeks hurt at this point. Fake smiling always seems to be the order of things when she's involved.

"You'll never believe what she did the other day. . ."—fake smile.

"Oh my God, Sandwich, take a look at this picture she just posted. . ."—fake smile.

". . . meet my bestest pal. . ."—this actually has the teeth glare shrouded in utter fakery coming from both sides.

When he isn't looking, we stare each other down, my glare not close to parring up with hers. Damn, she's good. My mental radio goes off and Taylor Swift's Bad Blood begins to play.

I can pull through, this is for Peng. I can pull through, this is for Peng, that keeps me reasonably sane as I await the minute he decides it's time the third wheel (me) is gotten rid off. Because, I really do feel that way. And I realize that in all my years of knowing Jacob, this is the first time I'm undoubtedly disgusted by him.

He steals a kiss when he thinks I'm busy biting of chocolate cake from my fork. I drop utensil and think: Get a room, people.

He says something that I'm most certain is just plain naughty because she blushes beet. I suppress a grimace and think: Lord, take me now.

Jacob stands to his feet in the name of visiting the men's room. (You can't miss the glint of connivance in those murky pools as he glances my way). I nearly choke on my water and think: You have seriously got to be kidding me.

What the hell is he trying to play? Bring his two favourite girls together?!

Puke alert!

"So, you and Jacob." The accusatory edge to her tone can't be missed. I can't believe she's jumping to conclusions already. "How long has it been?"—it sounds like a question that's been scavenging her brain.

I shrug. "Almost six years. We attended the same high school."

Whether I'm jealous or not, which I definitely am, far be it from me to try to prove a point. Though that's how she makes me see it. She frowns, cocks a brow, and smirks. That is never good.

"That's quite long," she says. "I take it, you two must be really close."

"You have no idea."

"Huh," she lets out, like whatever she's thinking just doesn't click with the aforementioned question. "Funny, he never mentioned you. That's why it caught me off guard when he brought up meeting you last week."

Last week? They got back together early this week?

The fact that she's just dug a hole for herself, because now I know she's just trying to see me green, makes me want to laugh. I want to call her out on that. In the end, I settle for inner satisfaction.

"Yeah, Peng's good that way."

Her grey orbs (so not the real deal)—makes me wonder if that's what has Jacob hypnotized—read confusion. It takes the next few seconds for all of it to dawn on me, that she has no idea Jacob isn't his birth name.

Well, isn't that just dandy.

"Yeah, he is." The evil glint returns after that. Witch! "Though, I can think of more than one area where he's incredibly good."

Well that is just unwanted info. I need not know what he's good at, where he's good at, how's he's good at it, when he's good at it. Especially not with her.

"That must make you happy."

"It does."

"Good for you."

"Yeah. Good."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Is it just me or is someone getting riled up over this? If I do recall correctly, she started it. Why the hell ignite what you can't handle?

There's a relapse of silence that follows. Of course, I'm immensely grateful for it. And just as I think it's about time I return to my chocolate cake, the witch decides to speak.

"Stay away from Jacob," she couldn't have been anymore straight to the point.

"Excuse me?"

"Stay away from him."

"Okay?"

"The last thing he needs in his life are classless dimwits like you or his other friends."

Bad-mouth me, drag my name through the mud but, do not mess with the guys. My friends, Jacob's friends, our friends. The one thing we both have that they don't.

"Yeah, leave the guys out of this," my voice drops down an octave. Mama bear is about to break loose. "Your headache is with me. So if you wish to pick a fight, I'm all yours. Got that?"

She laughs. The bitch laughs and all I can think is that it is annoying, ominous: an evil cackle ignited from roasting fattened children in an oven.

I really need to keep a closer eye on her and Jacob from now on.

"Fighting is a waste of time. Who's side do you think he'll take in any issue. Me or you, one of his pals."

Pal. That word has never sounded more painstaking than it does now. Pal, pal, pal! All I would ever be. Let's not forget the go-to-girl when the going gets tough. In Jacob's case, when the wench sat across decides to play puppeteer with his heart.

Again, I've lost the battle, but did I entirely have to lose it all. I could take this one home, even if not the way I would've wanted: Me in Jacob's arms. I could still snag some gratification.

Just before I can let out a retort that's sure to put it in the bag for me, silencing her for the rest of this godforsaken date, Jacob returns.

"Is everything alright?"