Okay, I had to admit—maybe I wouldn't mind kissing Jack Michel. Maybe this meant I was tipsy. Or hormonal. Maybe he was too cute for his own good. But regardless, he didn't seem to be getting the hint. I gave him a minute of silence—definitely enough time for him to make a move. Instead, he stared intently at the poster of the rock cycle he had on his wall.

"So, am I still your black onyx?" I asked him, leaning closer. "Or have I changed to rose quartz status?"

His shoulders tensed, but he didn't answer.

"Fine," I sighed. "We don't need to talk about that today. I don't want you to regret it tomorrow."

Slowly, he looked back at me. "Are you... are you being considerate?"

"I don't know, am I?"

A small smile broke through his cheeks. "You're being considerate! I'm impressed."

"It's only for you."

"...you don't think I'm a freak or something?"

"A freak? Where did you get that from? I think you're the opposite, actually. You don't change yourself for others."

"Thanks," he mumbled, scrunching up his face as he scratched his head. "You are the only person who thinks that."

"You're telling me you have no friends who accept you for who you are?"

"They got tired of me. Except for you... I guess."

Was this friendship? Doing regrettable things one day and then ignoring each other until the next time we decided to be impulsive?

"I can't even be embarrassed with you anymore," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I miss y—working at the flower shop."

"I thought you hated flowers?"

"You make me like them more than I should." He let out one of his usual silent laughs. "It's stupid. All the things I'll do to impress you. I had to get drunk just to get the courage to text you back."

"Do I scare you that much?"

"You're the scary sociopath coming to kill me with bouquets of flowers."

I nearly pushed him off the bed.

"I'm joking," he defended, still laughing. "I know you won't."

"Or maybe I will. Who knows, maybe I'll be the next Ted Bundy."

"Or the next CEO of Amazon or Microsoft or... those other businesses. Aren't CEO's sociopaths?"

"Amazon? Disgusting. I'll be the CEO of the world's first floral empire."

He smiled, reaching for the bottle only to realize all the whiskey was gone. He stared sadly at the empty glass and slumped backward on his bed.

"So, what happened to your rocks?" I asked.

"My dad," Jack said immediately. "He doesn't like to see them. He doesn't like to think I'm not normal. Or... not the normal he wants me to be."

"How can he expect you to be what he wants when he's not even around?" I remembered the family portrait downstairs. "Does he have another family?"

"In Germany. I have two half sisters."

"Are you close with them?"

"When I'm there. But I'm not there."

"Do you talk to them?"

"It's funny how I talk more in Germany," he drawled. "Here, I just have panic attacks. I had one that night with the cars. I had one this morning. I almost had one now. Maybe it's happening so much because I'm finally... living."

"Maybe feeling so much means I'm living," I muttered.

"You feel like... you're feeling too much?"

"Unfortunately."

He looked at me curiously. 

"I'd rather be on Mars," I sighed. "But for real. Like what happened with Grace the other day. Her taking over the shop and then acting like I'm the one who owes her anything. I felt so offended for some reason. Even though I knew she wasn't going to change. Maybe a small part of me got my hopes up."

This was more than I had told Psychologist #5. And, like I'd frozen up in her office, I couldn't continue. Couldn't articulate the extent of the sudden heaviness on my shoulders. Would he shut down if I did? The idea of confiding in someone about my "issues" seemed entirely wrong. But maybe he had just as many issues as me.

"That's why I'm not mad about the other night with the racing," Jack said. "You're going through a lot."

"And what about you?"

He rolled his eyes at himself. "I always am."

"Because you're mute?"

"Mutism is... not my only diagnosis."

"What are your other diagno...sises. Diagnoses?"

"Social anxiety. Autism spectrum disorder."

"You have autism?"

Jack nodded, going completely silent, like he regretted saying all he'd just said. Like I'd judge him for it.

"I can't say I know a lot about autism," I said.

"They claim it's high functioning," he scoffed. "But I'm the farthest thing from functioning."

"For someone who doesn't speak and is autistic, I think you're pretty good at communicating yourself."

"I had to learn how."

I couldn't believe that just minutes ago, I was getting vivid visuals of us making out on his bed. Now here I was, asking about his personal life. Old Romy would've laughed her ass off. But then again, we were drunk. The whiskey had put all sorts of ridiculous thoughts in my brain. And I didn't want to mess up one of our first real conversations with my recklessness. I didn't want him to do something he'd regret and then shut down again.

Huh. Maybe I really was being considerate.

"Can you tell me what it's like to have autism?" I asked.

He didn't meet my gaze. "I don't know how to explain it well. It's different for everyone. But for me... you can probably already tell. Having no natural social skills. Struggling with communication. Sometimes I feel like everyone is in on a joke I don't understand."

"It probably doesn't help you also have social anxiety."

He nodded. "There's more, too. Getting overwhelmed really easily. Obsessing over certain things. Talking about myself too much... when I do talk."

And that was when we heard the front door opening downstairs.

Jack sat up, his eyes wide. "I think she's home."

His mom? I hadn't even heard her car pulling up on the driveway. Should I have been paying more attention?

"Jack?" Danielle called.

I smiled at the sheer panic on Jack's face.

"Jack, are you here?" she called again, now coming up the stairs.

Jack, frustrated at my inaction, grabbed me and pushed me onto his bed. "Get in the covers."

I did as he said. But there was no way his mom wouldn't see the lump in the bed. What could Jack do? How would he explain himself? The boy was drunk.

Drunk enough to get into the bed with me. I fought not to burst out laughing.

Especially when his way of hiding me was to literally climb on top of me.

"Sorry," he whispered. The little breathing room I had was gone. It seemed like he was trying his hardest to touch me as little as possible.... while also trying to make it seem like there wasn't a second person in the bed.

I didn't have enough air to laugh. Didn't have enough air to breathe. I had the overwhelming urge to push Jack off me and inhale all the air in the room.

"I can't breathe," I mumbled under him. But maybe he was too drunk—or too panicked—to hear me. I felt his racing heartbeat against my chest.

"Can you please get off me?" I tried again.

He didn't. I had no choice but to push him—and the covers—off me. I sat up on the bed.

And came face to face with Danielle coming into the room.

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Old A/N:

A/N: Yay new chapter. I'm finally finished with the school year and all of my exams!!!!!!! Anyway, what did you think of this chapter? Will Jack keep ignoring Romy? Will they become friends? Are they friends already? What are your predictions and ideas for the next chapter? Be sure to let me know! Thanks for reading :)

New A/N:

So, 2015 me finished her exams before posting this chapter, and 2021 me finished my final edits for my NA Thriller project :) I hope you enjoyed this segment of #Jomy, and stay tuned for more laughs (and drama) in the next one!

This chapter is dedicated to humaira_________! Thank you so much for all the comments and support ❤️