1 4
What Happens in SoHo...
Yes. Yes. Yes. A million fucking times yes is the immediate response that comes to mind when Jalen asks if he can come see me.
The actual response I give: "You mean, like, right now... at my house?"
"You can say no if you want too, Lyndon. I won't just show up like some stalker," he says in a calm tone.
Meanwhile, I, Lyndon Prince, am anything but calm at the idea that Jalen Uccello wants to come see me.
"I don't want to," I quickly blurt.
"Okay...?"
"I don't want to say no, I mean. If you want to come see me, then, come," I clarify as best as I can while feeling so flustered all of a sudden.
"Okay," he repeats, but this time, it's firm, and when I hear a door open in the background, I begin biting my fingernails, nervous and excited at the same time.
I have no idea where he was before this, during the beginning of our call, but soon after, it's silent between us once again as he drives, and I sit on my couch, biting my nails till they're no longer existent.
"I'm here," he finally announces, successfully sending my heart crashing landing to my ass.
"Um, okay," I respond, and, again, it's silent. "Should I come outside?"
"Whatever you want, Lyndon," he says gently.
"I'll come out," I decide, standing, shoving on shoes, and quickly leaving before Knox hears. "Where are you?"
He lightly laughs. "Literally right in front of your face."
I look around for his motorcycle, not seeing it. "Are you playing me right now? Are you even really here?"
"No, I am not playing you, Lyndon. I'm here." Then, to prove his point, bright lights flash at me, coming from a sleek black sports car.
I walk toward it, and slowly open the door, gently seating myself inside, hanging up the phone. "Is this an Aston Martin?"
He nods, watching me, not saying anything.
"What happened to your motorcycle?"
"Didn't feel like driving it tonight," he explains, still observing every move I make.
"Well, you lied," I announce, not missing the way his eyes briefly widen at my words, before he relaxes again. "You did play me. I was looking for your motorcycle."
"I like to change things up. Got this baby to match David's."
"Goals," I sing, making him laugh.
And then, again, it's silent.
"So," I start, letting the word hang in the awkward air between us. "What're you doing here?"
Jalen looks out the window, making me worry that my parents—or, worse, Noah—are here. He turns to me next, slightly smiling as he states, "I wanted to see you."
Trying to ignore what he means, and how that'll make me feel, I look toward the time on my phone, then out the window, estimating how much longer it'll be till they do come back.
"Waiting for something or... someone?" His voice is louder than the low tone he was previously speaking in. When I bring my gaze his way, I see his features are hardened, eyes zoning in on my phone.
"I can't remember what time my parents said they'd be home, so I'm looking out for them." I don't like feeling like I need to explain myself, but I also don't want him getting snippy at me for no reason. "What were you thinking?"
YOU ARE READING
High School Treachery | ✓
Teen Fiction"The best defense against the treacherous is treachery." In Arlin Preparatory High School, where the students seem to live by this code, Lyndon Prince has become the new, easy target during her first week as a transfer student. Lyndon's first and la...
