Chapter 4: Misunderstandings and Memories

Back in my room, the snake’s tail started to wag harder, almost vibrating. Its tongue flicked in and out so fast I could barely keep up.

I panicked, shaking my hand, and—oops—I flung the snake straight onto the carpet.

[HAHAHAHAHAHAHA—]

[Give up, the guy is too pitiful, can’t even feed himself.]

[The girl is so cute, this is actually a reward for him.]

Suddenly, my vision was flooded with scrolling comments. They all riffed on the same idea—like some peanut gallery was narrating my life.

Who’s this “he”? Were they talking about Jason, or the snake? Or both?

The snake picked itself up, gave me a long, hard look. For a second, I swore it wanted to eat me alive. But then it flicked its tail and slithered to the far corner of the room, like a grumpy toddler giving me the silent treatment.

Guilt washed over me. I worried I’d hurt it, so I figured I’d ask Jason for one of those glass tanks, just until I could hand the snake back safely.

Knock knock knock—

I rapped gently on Jason’s door, biting my lip.

The door was shut tight. No answer. That was odd. Jason never shuts his door all the way; he usually leaves it cracked open so I can always see what he’s up to—usually changing his shirt, which he likes to call me a “pervy girl” for. “Shameless,” he teases, though I catch him smiling sometimes.

[Scheming guy, leaves the door open every day just to seduce the girl.]

[Girl, don’t fall for it! I’m telling you, he’s dangerous right now. Push the door open and go in!]

[Yeah, yeah, the guy’s suffering right now, you need to go help him.]

I hesitated, torn. Dangerous? Suffering? I pressed my ear to the door, heart pounding. Did he really need me?

“What are you doing?”

The door swung open with a bang. Jason glared at me, brow furrowed, eyes fiery: “Banging on my door nonstop—are you looking to die?”

I stepped back, cheeks flushed. Why had I listened to those weird comments? My voice wobbled. “I just—was worried.”

But he definitely looked off. His clothes were rumpled, face flushed, hair messy. He looked… well, like he’d just tumbled out of a romance novel scene.

“What were you doing in there?”

I tried to peek past him, but Jason blocked the way, arms crossed, clearly flustered. “What’s it to you?”

“And there’s a weird smell,” I said, sniffing the air. “Did your snake go into heat or something?”

He scowled. “Thank you so much.”

That familiar edge was back in his voice—the kind that meant he was two seconds from snapping or teasing. I frowned, “Did you do something bad? Why so jumpy?”

[Girl, stop asking—he’s about to lose it.]

[Let’s go, let’s go, I’m scared he’ll snap and eat the girl.]

[LOL, every word from the girl is a direct hit, the scheming guy can’t hide it anymore.]

Can’t hide it?

Suddenly, it hit me. My stomach dropped, cold and heavy, like I’d just failed the world’s most important test. I glared at Jason: “Brooke’s inside, isn’t she?”

He froze, eyes wide.

I kept my voice steady, but it shook with hurt. “You’re doing dirty things with her, and you don’t even bother to avoid me. What do you take me for?”

Jason still didn’t move. Then, finally, he snapped to, half-closing the door behind him: “No, you…”

“Jerk.”

I slammed the door right in his face, the sound echoing in the hallway.

My words were half curse, half sob. I stalked back to my room, shoes pounding on the floor.

Back in my room, I sank to the carpet, knees drawn to my chest, hugging myself tight. The sting in my throat threatened tears, but I held them back.

The scrolling comments kept coming, but I squeezed my eyes shut.

[What do we do, what do we do, the girl misunderstood.]

[Good, let her misunderstand—this way she’ll finally leave.]

[Yeah, let them keep misunderstanding, anyway the guy has a sharp tongue and no game, what’s the point of having a wife?]

[…Am I the only one who wants to see the guy force his love? If the girl just leaves, he’ll just… hehe.]

[Seconded!]

A tear slipped down my cheek.

When I finally looked up, only one line remained:

[Whatever, with Brooke, the supporting girl, around, our girl will always be hurt. If you don’t deal with the scheming guy, just leave.]

That’s right.

Jason and I have been engaged since we were kids. Our parents thought it was adorable, like we were destined for some American small-town romance. Jason’s loved snakes since he was old enough to catch garter snakes in the backyard. I’ve been terrified of them since the summer camp in Ohio—when I screamed so loud the counselor thought I’d seen a ghost. Every time he brought one home, I’d run screaming, and he’d laugh, calling me a scaredy-cat. “You’re hopeless,” he’d tease.

I’d tried everything—Googling ‘how to stop being afraid of snakes,’ watching YouTube snake-handling fails, even dragging myself to a reptile expo at the state fair. Nothing worked.

Then I met Brooke. I’d walked into Jason’s reptile greenhouse, and there she was—Brooke strolled in wearing ripped jeans and a vintage Nirvana tee, totally at ease as she scooped up Jason’s snake. Jason stood a few feet away, gazing at her, eyes soft. That’s when I realized—

I’m afraid of snakes. But there are plenty of girls who aren’t. And maybe Jason needs someone who isn’t terrified of the things he loves.