Peaches 'N Cream

4. Baby

"I've been keepin' an eye out for you all day, well since August, actually."

"Joey—"

He tapped one finger against his lips, "You swore it wouldn't happen again. You changed your work schedule, and ghosted me for the rest of the summer. I'm not askin' you to call me every day, but shit, Jericho, nothin' for weeks? Ignorin' my texts? What changed?"

Jericho sighed, and a frown replaced his neutral expression as he crossed his arms. He almost let his best friend of four years fuck him in the front seat of his stupid truck, and he's asking what changed? Did he remember or not?

"Joseph, I really don't want to talk about this with you right now. Please don't make me."

He wanted an explanation but Jericho needed time and space. To sort his feelings out, figure out how to approach this, how to word it.

"Jericho, I just want you to tell me what's wrong. You know I don't like it when we get like this because you always stop communicatin' with me. The only thing that stopped me from goin' to your house is the fact that I knew it would cross a line. But God, this is frustrating."

It's not like he can just flat out tell him what's been going through his mind. (He can, he just doesn't want to.) 'I think about your hands on me every day.' No, it's never that easy. So, he did what he does best, deflect until he figures it out.

"Is that right? Come talk to me when you cool off then, 'kay?"

Ever since the blond's rise to fame his sophomore year, he's gotten too comfortable with the special attention. Anyone with sense could see that he was treated like the award-winning peach cobbler at the county fair by his peers, parents, and professors just so they could get into his family's good graces or his pants.

He knows damn well that Jericho's one of the only people who care enough about him to clock his massive ego and tell him when to chill the fuck out. The brown-haired boy was stubborn, but at least he didn't sugarcoat anything for the sake of someone's delusion.

Jericho held his eyes but still walked away first, sitting down at the circular table and finally greeting the friends he hadn't seen since the party; both went back home in the middle of June to see their families.

None of them shared any classes this year, so lunch and weekends would be the only times they'd ever really be able to talk.

"Jericho!"

Angelica Byun smiled widely, softly rounded sandy-brown cheeks rising like dough in an oven. She brushed her loose curls over her shoulder and glared at the other person sitting at the table with them.

Her dad was Korean and her mom Jamaican. So, she had the whole blasian ulzzang look going on, that's what she called it, and all sixteen thousand of her Instagram followers would agree.

He met Cadence Bukhari, sitting right in front of him, through Angelica during his first year of theater. They're all complete opposites, but they can go for a while without talking and then bounce back like it never happened.

Cadence said a quiet hi in response, Angelica's eyes finally reaching him. He smoothed down his curly, copper brown ringlets and adjusted his glasses. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Jericho.

"Anyway! How was your summer? And you can't say boring."

Well, she got him there.

"I didn't do anything except for work, and all those summer projects nearly tore my ass up."

She laughed at him; Angel was tiny, but she was loud, and a few people glanced over at them when the giggling didn't stop after nearly ten seconds.