More Than This by McLean, Jay (free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

gang, and tell them we’ll see them when we get back from the wedding. Jake and I head home. Home? Home.

The work is still going strong on the garage, the termites can’t have done too much damage, I haven’t really seen them rebuilding, but I’ve never actually been in the garage so I wouldn’t know.

We pack and head back out to Jake's truck, saying bye to his family on the way out. I thought they might give Jake and I a lecture about being by ourselves in a hotel room, but I guess being here, living with each other, is basically the same.

When we get to the driveway, Travis, one of the workers is there. He’s a nice guy, always smiles and says hello in the mornings when I take Julie to school. He sees me and smiles again. “Hey, Mikayla. How are you today, darlin’?”

Jake removes the bag from my hand and holds it in the same hand as his bag. He holds my hand tightly and brings me to his side, leading me to the passenger side of his truck. He throws our bags in the bed and makes sure I’m seated, before closing the door.

Instead of getting in the truck, he walks over to Travis and says something to him. It looks like a heated conversation and Travis’ arms go up in surrender. By the time Jake gets in the truck, his face is red, brows drawn together and his jaw is clenched. I don’t say anything to him.

Half way to the airport, he hasn’t changed.

Hesitantly I take his hand in mine and he seems to calm down a tiny bit.

“What happened, Jake? Did something happen with Travis?”

“How do you know his name?” he bites out.

“I don’t know, he just introduced himself one day.” I’ve never seen him like this and it scares me a little.

“And you rem-" His head whips to me, but then he sees my face and calms his features. “I’m so sorry, Kayla.”

He takes a few deep breaths. “I’m just sick of that asshole eye fucking you whenever he sees you.”

“Jake, he wasn-"

“Just leave it alone, okay? He’ll be done next week.”

***

The wedding is beautiful, Mom would have loved it. The reception, however, was amazing.

Jake and I ended up drinking a bit too much and we’re stumbling as we make our way to the hotel room. We got in last night, but after having dinner with Lisa and her fiancé, we just crashed and burned immediately after hitting the pillows.

Lisa, being the awesome ‘Aunt’ she is, has supplied us with a little alcohol in our room, considering we’re only 18 and all.

We’re both buzzed sitting on the floor, our backs to the bed.

“You know the legal drinking age in Australia is 18?” he says.

“No shit?” I empty the remains of the beer bottle in my mouth.

“Mmm-hmm” He fishes through the packet of nuts, searching for something. “It’s the same for driving, well, where we were anyway. Some other states, it’s like 16 or 17 or some shit.”

“Where were you from?”

“Melbourne.”

“What was it like?”

“We lived in the suburbs, believe it or not it’s a lot like home, more traffic lights in Melbourne though.”

“We’re you a bad little boy?” I ask him.

“That kind of sounds sexy and borderline creepy,” he laughs.

I smack him on the shoulder, he mocks hurt, rubbing it before continuing. “Nah, I mean, I was like, 14 when I came back, so over there I was just a standard little punk. I think the worst thing I ever did was accidentally knock over a pot outside a florist trying to do sick tricks on my skateboard.” I laugh. “I felt so bad, I told my mom the minute I got home and begged her to pay for it. She made me apologize to the owner and took it out of my pocket money.”

I laugh even harder. “You are so fricken adorable.”

He chuckles under his breath.

It’s quiet for a moment, while I lean my head on his shoulder.

“Tell me more about it? Australia I mean, we didn’t get to travel much, I’ve never been out of America. We had always planned on going to The Philippines for a family holiday, that’s where Mom’s dad was from, my mom’s half Filipino.”

“Aaah, always wondered where you got that amazing color from,” he says, rubbing my arm with the back of his finger.

I nudge him, “So…? Tell me about it.”

“Okay, umm… let’s see..” He looks to the roof contemplating.

I stand up to get another beer from the fridge.

“Shit,” I groan. “We’re out of beer.”

“What? No way!” He comes behind me to look. “Crap, well, we got champagne?”

I pout. “I can’t have champagne without ice.”

“To the ice machine!” he announces, one hand on his waist, the other in the air like he’s a fricken superhero. I laugh and jump on his back, grabbing the ice bucket on the way out.

“We call sandals ‘thongs’,” he says, turning his head so he can face me.

“WHAT?!” I laugh.

“Yeah, the first time I came back, I was living with my Aunt and Uncle, and this girl invited me to her house for a pool party. The whole class was there. I had taken my ‘sandals’ off just outside the pool, and when I went to get out I asked this smoking’ hot, for like 13, girl to hand them to me, except I said to her ‘chuck us me thongs!’” I throw my head back in laughter so hard, he loses balance and has to readjust himself, and then me. “After that, people kept teasing me, telling me I wore thongs, which in Australia is called a g-string, just FYI. Anyway, it took me like, a good two months to convince people that I didn’t wear thongs, and that I was asking for sandals.”

I’m all out laughing now, and I’m glad he’s holding on to me because if he weren’t, I’d be rolling around on the floor.

“Mikayla, is that you?” I look up to see Lisa's mom smiling at