It’s over the top and might be a little weird if anyone else did it. But Jase is just showing how much he does care as a true friend. Plus, I know he enjoys watching me squirm, being someone who isn’t used to being the center of attention.
He gives me a card, too, telling me it’s cash before I even open it, which makes me groan.
“Jase…,” I murmured, blushing. But Jase is only getting started.
No gushy hugs or false good wishes here. He’s the kind of friend who knows me well enough to know what’s actually useful.
Cash and a little of his own colorful theatrics to take the edge off my embarrassment as Jase will be Jase!
And he’ll be paying for dinner too. I just know it.
“Ready?” he finally asks impatiently. Checking his watch and ignoring me open the card and pretending not to hear when I exclaim that two hundred dollars is too much.
“Thanks, Jase,” I say loud enough for him to hear, looking him in the eye. “I mean it. Thanks a lot.”
He only shrugs and reminds me that’s what friends are for before he clicks his tongue, pretending to be annoyed at the sound of the faucet running from the bathroom.
“Dad home late from work again?” he asks me in an understanding tone. Relaxing his bum’s rush routine once I crease a frown and nod.
“Well…I can’t say anything just yet, but after dinner, I have a surprise for you, Nessie bestie,” he beams, shooting me a wink and making me groan. Then I giggle at the way he always calls me that when he’s planning something major or trying to cheer me up.
“You’ve done enough, Jase,” I groan, meaning it, tucking the money into my jeans pocket, so Dad doesn’t see. Not because I want it all for me, but because I know it’ll kill Dad to see me getting something he couldn’t afford to give me.
Spending time with Dad means more to me than money, anyhow. It’s just a Jase thing, but him being from money, I keep that stuff from being in my Dad’s face.
Sensing my mood, Jase is quick to lower his voice. “Everything okay?” he asks, and once I nod and he knows I mean it, he suggests we wait in the kitchen.
I’ve carried the small framed picture the whole time, which Jase notices, finally easing it out of my hand once we sit at the table.
It’s as though we’re both transported back to that moment in time.
Freshly graduated, with both our lives ahead of us. Both of us were without our family there on this special day.
“Are you getting sentimental in your old age?” he finally jokes, breaking the shared reverie.
I playfully paw at his arm, taking the photo back.
“No,” I hear myself exclaim defensively, and his look shifts as he senses there’s more to that picture than my best friend and me. More than our graduation day.
I could only admit it to myself earlier when I was poring over it, not thinking about Jase or even my Dad.
I was thinking about Jase’s Dad.
About how secretly I wished he’d been there even more than my Dad somehow.
It’s such a stupid thought, such a crazy realization. But it’s something I have to push deep down for now.
No. There’s no way. You’re just being stupid, Vanessa. Mr. Hart? Oh my god, he’s like twice your age.
I feel my head shaking at my silly wishful thinking, pushing the idea down again, but the feeling’s still there.
Something in me changed that day, and it wasn’t just the prospect of life after college.
See, I caught a glimpse of Jase’s Dad. As my Dad and I were leaving after the graduation ceremony, he finally arrived long after the show was over.
Jase’s Dad didn’t see me. At least, I don’t think he did. And even if he did, there’s no way an older, wealthy man like him would or even should give a younger, thick-set girl like me a second glance.
Is there?
Meanwhile, my Dad has gotten himself ready in record time, a habit from working so many different jobs.
So in no time, we’re all sitting at the best steakhouse in town, with all our mouths and bellies full of great food. It’s ages before we get to talk about anything apart from how good the food is.
And the fact it’s my birthday.
Dessert is another surprise, and I figure it’s what Jase was going on about.
A huge ice cream cake is wheeled out with all my favorite flavors in it. ‘Happy Twentieth Vanessa’ in edible frozen frosting and another hearty round of everyone singing Happy Birthday off-key.
I blush with embarrassment and am grateful this sort of thing only happens once a year.
“Some surprise, Jase,” I congratulate him once we’re spooning the last colored puddles of sweetness from our plates.
Dad is looking like he could fall asleep in his chair. He’s eaten so much. But Jase frowns, shaking his head.