Chapter 2 — The Pizza Jacket Intervention
Mia
The first thing I noticed when Jake waltzed into the living room was the red pizza delivery jacket. Oversized, slightly faded, and speckled with faint grease stains, it was the exact opposite of everything I’d carefully constructed for tonight. My emerald dress shimmered under the dim glow of the floor lamp, a silent reminder of the hours I’d spent perfecting every detail of my look. My hair was sleek, my makeup flawless—but none of it mattered anymore. Jason—my so-called perfect boyfriend—had shattered it all with a single text.
*Need some space. Sorry.*
That was it. No explanation, no apology that actually meant anything. Just six words that crushed the months I’d spent planning every detail of this night. I’d been so sure Jason and I were the picture-perfect couple. But maybe that was the problem—everything was a picture, a performance. And now the curtain had dropped, leaving me sitting here in a heap of ruined expectations.
Jake, on the other hand, looked as if he’d just stumbled out of a sitcom. His shaggy brown hair stuck out in every direction, and his sneakers—still dusted with flour from his shift—squeaked faintly against the hardwood floor. He plopped onto the couch next to me like he didn’t have a care in the world, draping an arm around my shoulders with exaggerated nonchalance.
“All right, disaster queen,” he declared, grinning. “Time to salvage this train wreck of a night.”
I groaned and pulled the throw blanket tighter around me. “Jake, I’m not in the mood for your theatrics.”
His expression softened, just for a moment. “I know you’re upset, Mia. But come on—you’re sitting here in a dress that probably cost more than my car, sulking like the world is ending. I mean, you look like a movie star who got stood up by her date. This is prime revenge arc material.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, but I’m not interested in a ‘revenge arc.’” I shot him a look. “And what does that even mean?”
“It means Jason doesn’t get to ruin your night. We’re going out. You, me, and this jacket of mine that says, ‘I don’t care, but also, I might have snacks.’” He wiggled his eyebrows, the picture of mischief.
Despite myself, I snorted. Jake had a way of breaking through my mood, no matter how determined I was to stay miserable. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, you love me.” He stood, extending a hand in a dramatic flourish. “Come on. Let’s go. I even made a list of potential last-minute dates.”
“You made a list?”
“Of course. I’m a problem-solver. And you, my dear sister, need options. You can’t just sit here all night waiting for Jason to realize he’s a jerk. Let’s go find you a new date—or at least a reason to laugh. Worst case, we eat fries and call it a win.”
I glanced down at the emerald hairpin in my lap, the light catching on its delicate vine-like design. It had been my mother’s, a “coming-of-age” gift she’d given me with a lecture about the importance of always presenting myself well. At this moment, it felt less like a symbol of elegance and more like a tiny green weight dragging me down. My fingers fiddled with it absently as I stared at Jake, his optimism almost absurd in the face of my ruined night. But maybe absurd was exactly what I needed. Anything was better than sitting here, staring at my phone, waiting for a text that wasn’t coming.
“Fine,” I muttered, tossing the blanket aside. “But if this turns into one of your harebrained schemes, I’m blaming you.”
“Noted,” he said, already halfway to the door. “Now grab your shoes, Cinderella. This pumpkin carriage waits for no one.”
---
The first stop on Jake’s grand adventure was the driveway, where his beat-up Honda Civic sat gleaming under the porch light. Well, “gleaming” was generous—more like streaked with mud and filled with the faint shadowy outlines of pizza delivery bags.
“Do I even want to know what’s in the backseat?” I asked, sliding into the passenger side and carefully tucking my dress around me.
“Leftovers,” Jake said cheerfully as he started the car. “Could be pizza, could be mozzarella sticks. The mystery is part of the charm.”
“Gross.” I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. Jake drumming theatrically on the steering wheel to the beat of a pop song on the radio didn’t help me hold back a reluctant smile.
“You know,” Jake said after a moment, his tone unusually thoughtful, “I hate seeing you like this, Mia. You put so much pressure on yourself to always have everything figured out. Maybe tonight’s the perfect chance to just... let go a little.”
I glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “And your solution is dragging me around town in your pizza-mobile?”
“Exactly.” He grinned, his usual playfulness returning. “First stop: the coffee shop. Word on the street is that Drew Martinez is there, prepping for some big college thing.”
“Drew? My old tutor?”
Jake smirked. “Yeah, your *very* nervous, very single old tutor. You know, the one who used to blush every time you said his name? You’d make his year just by walking in.”
“Jake, I’m not going to the coffee shop to boost someone’s ego.”
“Of course not,” he said innocently. “But if boosting someone’s ego happens to make you feel better, is that such a bad thing?”
I sighed, leaning back in the seat. Jake’s logic was ridiculous, but somehow, it still made sense. The truth was, the idea of sitting across from Drew didn’t sound awful. At least it was better than sitting here wallowing in my own misery.
---
The coffee shop was just as I remembered it—warm, cozy, and filled with the faint aroma of espresso and baked goods. A chalkboard menu above the counter listed pun-filled drink names in colorful chalk, and mismatched chairs clustered around small tables. In one corner, a bulletin board was covered with notes and doodles left by past customers, a patchwork of tiny, anonymous worlds.
Jake nudged me as we stepped inside. “See? This place has vibes. Maybe all you need is a little caffeine and some flirty banter to turn the night around.”
“Flirty banter is not on the menu,” I said, but my eyes were already scanning the room.
And there he was.
Drew sat at a corner table, glasses perched on his nose, hunched over a stack of papers. He was chewing the end of a pen, looking both absentminded and completely stressed. He hadn’t noticed us yet, which gave me a moment to take him in. He looked... older, maybe. More focused. He still had that slightly rumpled, endearingly awkward air about him, but it suited him in a way I hadn’t noticed before.
Jake leaned toward me and whispered, “Go say hi. You’re the hero in this story, remember?”
I hesitated, clutching my clutch. My hairpin seemed to press just a little tighter against my scalp, a reminder of everything I was supposed to be tonight—composed, polished, perfect. But then Drew glanced up, and his eyes landed on me. His expression shifted from confusion to surprise to mild panic.
“Mia?” he said, blinking.
I gave a small wave. “Hey, Drew. Long time no see.”
Jake clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll grab us some drinks. You two catch up.”
Before I could protest, he was gone, leaving me standing awkwardly at the edge of Drew’s table.
“Mind if I sit?” I asked.
“Oh, uh, sure,” Drew said, shuffling his papers into something resembling a neat pile. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting— I mean, it’s great to see you.”
I slid into the chair across from him, smoothing my dress. “You look busy. Big test coming up?”
“College interview,” he admitted, glancing at the papers. “I’ve been practicing answers, but it’s... kind of intimidating.”
“You’ll do great,” I said automatically.
He chuckled softly. “Thanks. Coming from you, that means a lot.”
Something in his tone made me pause. Drew’s sincerity felt almost... vulnerable. “Why would it mean more coming from me?”
He hesitated, fidgeting with the pen. “You’ve always been... confident. Like, you just know what you’re doing. I used to admire that. Still do, actually.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You admired me? Drew, I was a mess half the time. I just hid it well.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Maybe. But you always seemed... certain. Like you had everything figured out. I guess I wanted to be like that.”
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. Drew had seen me as something I wasn’t—confident, composed, perfect. But hearing him say it made me realize just how much pressure I’d put on myself to maintain that illusion.
“Well,” I said finally, “maybe we both need to cut ourselves some slack. You’re way more capable than you think, Drew. Trust me.”
His smile was small but genuine. “Thanks, Mia.”
Jake returned then, balancing two steaming mugs. “Here we go! One vanilla latte for the lady and one... something for the guy.”
Drew laughed, the tension easing. “Thanks, Jake.”
As we sipped our drinks, the conversation turned lighter. For the first time that night, I felt the tightness in my chest begin to loosen. Maybe Jake’s ridiculous plan wasn’t so bad after all.
