Changing Jake

Alex visited her grandparents in Patmos every year since the age of four. After five years, she returns, memories of past summers at Patmos filling her with excitement. But when they tell her that Eula, Yaya's old and bestest friend, has asked them to look after her bratty teenage son Jake, Alex is far from pleased. Not only does she have to cart Jake around Patmos, but she's expected to make him from a brat to a decent human being, and from what she's heard, Jake is far from being anyway near nice, let alone intelligent.
But with a boiling hot sun, beautiful surroundings, and Alec's determined attitude to life, can she do it?
This is entering into the Sony award competition so lots of feedback would be great.

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7. Jake's break

 

'Beccy!' Jake tries to push her away but she snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, her blond hair covering both their faces. After a few seconds, he relaxes.

That's it. 

'Jake.' He stops, then turns slowly, as if just remembering that I'm still there. In three strides I'm by his side and have slapped him hard around the face. Two strikes.

'You've got to be kidding me!' Staggering, he clutches his jaw, which has already turned a light purple. Beccy stares at me, and I feel a pang of guilt. She obviously has no idea what's going on, or that anything has happened between me and Jake.

'That's not cool.' She says quietly, and I  suddenly feel a burst of rage.

'You know what else isn't cool? Turning up at someone else's house, kissing their-' I stop. What is Jake exactly? A boyfriend? A really good friend?

'Don't worry. Just-' I feel my eyes well up with tears. 'You're welcome to him.'

*

'What is it exactly?' I'm sitting on the bench looking over the beach with John, who came as soon as I called. 'I can't put my finger on it. Jake seem's so nice and sincere and then things like this happen.' Sighing, I tilt my head back against the bench, squinting my eyes so the clouds come into focus.

'Boys are confusing.' John nods sympathetically and I laugh, taking his hand in mine.

'You're sweet. So, what do you think I should do?' 

He smiles, little dimples appearing on either sides of his cheeks. 'You've got to outshine this girl. Be the better women, apologise for slapping him. Look glamorous, be glamorous.' 

I muse this for a moment. 'You know, John, I think you have a point. Let's go try on some dresses.'

*

'This one?' I turn, staggering slightly in the four inch heels I wedged onto my feet. John surveys me, then shakes his head.

'You look too un-comfortable. Heels are just a man thing to re-create girls to their own satisfaction. Personally, I think flat's are more desirable.' 

I nod. 'You're very correct-but personally I love heels because they're empowering, not a man's decision. So no heels, but what about the dress?' Doing a turn, I look at myself in the mirror. It's black, with triangular cut outs by the hips and a halter top. Mature, glamorous, and figure hugging, I think it's just right.

'You look gorgeous.' He studies my hair critically, twisting it round into an elegant bouffant with surprising deftness. 'The final touch; these.' Pulling out a pair of black velvet lace boots, he smiles. 'Perfect.'

Pulling them on, I raise an eyebrow. 'If you weren't such a great friend, you do know it would be totally sexist and controlling of you to determine what makes me sexy. If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to hit on me.' 

He smiles wryly, edging forward so he's sitting on the edge of the bed. 'That would be true, if I weren't gay.' 

'Oh?' I straighten up from tying my laces, confused. 'But, that kiss-'

'You're beautiful.' He smiles, reaching forward to take my hand. 'Kissing you is wonderful, and I hope I didn't give you the wrong impression. But I am completely homosexual. I just love beautiful women, like yourself.' 

I feel a sudden rush of love for this boy, so sweet and real. 'You are something special, you know John.  I just wish you could pass onto Jake some of your morals.'

                                                                                       *

 

'Alex?' Jake is sitting at the table, digging into what looks like tomato spaghetti. Beccy is lighting candles on the window sill, of course. Such an angel, that one.

'Jake.' I slide down into the seat across from him, picking up my fork and calmly twirling the spaghetti strands around the prongs. Beccy turns and see's me, her cheeks instantly flushing. Poor girl. I never meant to drag her into this.

'You look-' Jake stops, struggling to find words underneath Beccy's glare. 'How are you?'

I shrug, trying to squash my guilt when I see the dark purple bruise underneath his jaw line. 'Fine, actually. I saw John today.'

'You did?' Instantly, Jake's features change and he draws into himself, a sheltered look passing over his face. 'Right.'

'Jake, sweetie, can you pass me the fizzy water?' Beccy jumps in, and he nods, reaching over to pick up the pitcher. As he sets it down, she leans forward and kisses the crook of his neck, making him blush.

'Beccy...' He glances at me, and I can see his mind clock whirring.

Kissing him more impatiently he gives in, wrapping his arms around her waist. Looking away, I feel my heart sink. Obviously, my plan didn't work.

'Hey, honey.' Startled, I whirl around. It's John, standing in the entrance. He must of just packed up his stuff to walk back to his house and seen Jake lip-locking as he walked to the front door. 

Catching on, I smile and beckon him over. 'Hey.'

Jake and Beccy both watch as he walks over and sits down beside me. Looking me in the eyes, I realise what his plan is. Genius.

I make the first move. Leaning in, we begin to kiss, my arms snaking around his neck. Brushing a strand of hair behind my ear he smiles, and our kisses become deeper. 

There's a bang and we jump apart. Jake has stormed out of the kitchen.

The front door slams shut.

A/N

So, John saved the day. Again.

What is Jake playing at?

Why did he storm out?

And will Alex ever learn to like Beccy?

Or even talk to her?

Find out next time, in

Changing Jake.

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