[Photo: Jordan Valencia. Video: Ariana Grande - Dangerous Woman]
Jordan and I stood by a pillar in the mall, near the Starbucks stall as we await our drinks. Jordan texted me to hang out a couple days ago and I wondered why. He and I have been quite close ever since we met but we've never really gone out together. Maybe he's realized this fact as well, or maybe he needs something from me.
Part of me thinks he's secretly gay and he'll confess his feelings for me, giving me another thing to worry about after the whole Eric thing. Nah, that's probably too much.
"Iced Venti Green Tea Latte for Braydon and an Iced Venti White Chocolate Mocha for Jordan." The barista calls out as he places our drinks on the counter, placing the straws on top of them. We go ahead and pick them up, throwing the balled up wrappers of the straws into a trash bin nearby. I take a sip of my drink, which is pure fucking heaven for two reasons: it's good as fuck and a venti cup is only two hundred calories. I know right? I never knew such a thing could exist!
We walk around the mall side by side, people eyeing us as I think they're assuming Jordan and I are a couple, despite the fact that we had a considerable distance between our bodies and we weren't holding hands or anything. I don't know, it's something I do too. When I'm usually out with my girls or just alone, I play the game of best friends or gay couple. You simply just pick out two guys who seem to be hanging out together and try to figure out whether they were best friends, or if they were a gay couple. The answer's usually revealed when you look at them long enough, which in hindsight, is kind of creepy.
"So, the whole Dylan thing going well?" He asks, tucking one hand into the pocket of his jacket as the other was holding his drink.
I swallow the sip I've taken. "So far, so good. He's really sweet." I find myself blushing just thinking about him, taking me back to the days when I was just crushing on Dylan, not really knowing that we'd ever get together. "He took me to Disneyland a couple weeks ago, that was awesome."
"Aww," He smiles. "I'm planning to take Meg there over the summer, do you think it's a good idea?"
"Oh, yeah." I reply with wide eyes and a one-hundred-percent-sure nod. "It's definitely a romantic place to kiss and you know," I nudge him in the elbow. "Get laid."
He chokes on his drink, acting like a thirteen-year-old who was too shy to admit that he knew what sex was. Come on, we're seventeen, most of the juniors have already done it while I haven't. It was a mystery whether or not Jordan and Meg have been at it, but I doubt that they haven't. Jordan's too hot to keep your hands off.
"Braydon." He chuckles, wiping the remains of his drink off his lip. "Stop."
"What?" I ask, surprised. "Don't you straight boys love talking about sex?"
He shivers. "Not me. I get really uncomfortable. I can't even talk dirty, you know?"
I laugh, throwing my head back just like Dylan does. Oh god, I'm acquiring his mannerisms, is that why he also started rolling his eyes more? "That's so cute. You're like a baby."
He shakes his head, biting onto the straw of his drink. It was something you notice your friend does but you never really question them on it. Jordan tends to bite on the straw, even nibble on it a little but I never really had the intention of bringing it up. I guess it's just something he does and he doesn't really have an explanation as to why.
"How's Eric?"
"Well," He shrugs. "He still talks about you. I don't know when he will since he's being my personal Braydon-newscaster ever since he started being into you."
"What does he talk about?" I ask awkwardly.
"He wonders how you're doing, if you're happy with the man you're with and if everything's okay with you." He smiles, probably remembering something. I was about to bug him into telling me but before I even got to it, he spoke, as if he was reading my mind. "He sometimes thinks about what he could've done to make you his."
I sink, feeling the guilt rise to my throat once more. I didn't think it would take him this long to get over someone. It's been at least four weeks, a month, and he still thinks about me. I thought he didn't really care? I thought he was hopping around from person to person finding the one? Before I paid attention to him, I'd always hear that Eric was dating a different girl almost every couple of months. Why would he take so long to get over me and find someone else?
He will, eventually, right? He has to. He can't do anything about the situation.
"He's still doing great in basketball practice," He adds. "So that you'd feel less guilty."
I guess that helped.
We take a seat on one of the tables for two near the water fountain, only noticing that Jordan's dark jeans were actually ripped. He sat light a straight guy, opening his legs as he slumped down his chair while I leaned over, placing my elbows on the table. I didn't really like it when boys would sit with their legs wide open, I didn't know it was such a turn off until I saw some guys doing it.
As ironic as it is, I didn't find it attractive, it was like they're showing off what they've got and they were just waiting for someone to come by and inquire about the business. It was okay for me for a guy to sit with his legs open, that's a natural thing for us to do since we're packing something down there and sitting with our legs closed is quite uncomfortable, but opening them too wide was a no-no for me, and with Jordan, he was fine.
"Alright." He says, placing his empty Starbucks cup down on the table. "Let's play a game. We're gonna go back and forth saying something that the other doesn't know about us. So I'm going to tell you something that you probably don't know about me and then you go. Got it?"
I nod.
"I've seen most of the varsity boys naked."
Well, that's a start.
I roll my eyes. It was something I've suspected for him to do but never really thought about it, so I guess he gets away with that one.
"Even Eric?" I ask through my squinted, seemingly disgusted eyes.
He nods. I was about to follow up with one more question but I mentally reprimanded myself, telling my brain not to let my curiosity get the best of me. You probably know what question I was going to ask, but I won't tell you either way.
"Uhh," I stutter. "Dylan's my first boyfriend."
I see him cock his eyebrow. "But what about that boy from last year?"
I cringe, remembering what happened. It's what I've told you before, I had a crush on this straight guy last year and gave him a valentine's gift. After that, he started avoiding me, like full on avoiding me to the point where he'd have to reroute his path if I was in his way.
"It was just a crush." I take a sip of my drink before putting it down on the table. "It didn't go so well."
"Obviously." He huffs. He nibbles on his bottom lip as he slouches over the table, elbows propped on it. "I am not a virgin." He says, looking at me dead in the eyes as if there was some kind of subliminal message about the Illuminati or some shit. People at my school think I'm in the Illuminati just because my favorite shape is a triangle and to this day, I still don't know whether they were joking or not.
"I. . . am. . . still a virgin." I say awkwardly as he was piercing me with his brown eyes, not even breaking eye contact for a fucking second. God, he has to stop doing that.
"Really?" He said in a somewhat loud manner, turning heads around us as he covers his mouth, his cheeks blushing red. He laughs to himself, removing his hand from his mouth to speak as his eyes were still wide. "You and Dylan never-"
"No." I cringe once more, not really quite a fan talking about sex with my partner, which would come as quite a surprise to my girls since I'd talk to them about having sex with numerous celebrities. I guess I'm just uncomfortable when it's someone I'm actually dating and might actually have sex with? I don't know. "At least, not yet."
He smiles. "So which part of the bunk bed are you gonna be in?"
"What?"
"You know, on the top-" He points his finger to the ceiling. "Or on the bottom?"
Yeah, I totally get what he's getting at.
"Jordan you really don't have to know about my sex life."
Laughing, he straightens himself on the chair, chugging the last ounce of his drink he had left, aiming for the trash bin a couple meters away as he shoots. Of course, he made it in. "Alright. Hey, you know how you've been hanging out with a group of girls since like, well ever since you got here, right?"
I cock an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me you want to hook up with one of my friends."
"No!" He disagrees. Once again he slouches over the table, thrusting his hips forward to get his chair nearer. "I'm kind of having trouble finding the perfect birthday gift for Meg."
"Well," I ponder, tapping my fingers on one of the metal bars that decorated the top of the table. "Makeup, I guess. Meghan seems like the girl who loves to play around with make-up."
He nods. "I guess you're right. I just- I don't know anything about make-up." He looks at me with sad, favor-asking eyes. "I was hoping you'd help me?"
Eye roll, yeah, I guess being in love doesn't take away all your habits. "Fine."
I finish my drink and he extends his hand out with a smile, asking for my empty cup so that he could do another toss. I happily give it to him since I have a fear of trying to toss something into a trash bin and then not making it in, it's like, the most awkward thing ever.
We walk around the mall, passing by clothing stores to which I tell Jordan would be a good idea too, but he doesn't really know what Meghan would like in particular. He says make-up would be a really safe gift for him to get, so he's gonna stick with that.
We walk into a MAC store and look around, seeing all the palettes, makeup brushes, eyeliners and brow pencils. The store was illuminated by the white panels that were embedded into the walls, a pretty good idea since it's a makeup store, of course, you'd need your lighting to be on fucking fleek. I head over to one of the stalls, picking up a contour palette for him. "How about this?"
He wrinkles his nose. "I think she already has that."
I nod, pouting my lips. Right, girls who tinker with makeup usually have a contour palette, it's an essential thing to painting your face. I look around, trying to think of something Meghan wouldn't have yet.
I slowly make my way to another stall, picking up an eye-shadow palette, showing it to him. He shakes his head. "I know for sure she has that, she tried putting it on me once."
I huff, sending him a smile as I stroll around the store some more. Seriously, what could you get a girl who seems like she has everything?
One of the clerks walks up to me, a taller boy with a slight beard and a tall nose, his mint-green hair styled upwards in a somewhat James Bond style. His eyebrows were defined and in such a fucking great shape, of course, he'd be wearing makeup but from what I see, he's only got foundation on. "Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you in any way?"
I stop, Jordan trailing behind me. "Oh, yeah-um. What do you think would be a great gift for this boy's girlfriend?" I say, nodding over to Jordan who had occupied himself browsing the store, looking up and down like a lost puppy, or like a kid in a candy shop. "She's really into makeup but it seems like she has everything she needs."
He nods, walking over with his arm extended, an open hand showing me what he's referring to. "Well, from what I've learned from my sisters is that no one really thinks about getting multi-colored eyeliners for themselves. But once someone gets it for them, it lightens up their day." He picks up the thin pens one by one, picking a color that would be different from one another. He then hands them to me with a smile, feeling the straight boy's presence behind me.
I look down at my hands, he's given me about ten different eyeliners, the colors were too small for me to read but they were illustrated on one end of the pen anyway. I turn to Jordan who peered over my shoulder. "How much is it?" He asks, looking up at the mint-haired boy.
"They would be twenty dollars each." He extends his arm to flip a piece of laminated paper over, turning it at an angle that would make the words printed on them visible to us. "But we have a sale going on right now, making them sixteen-fifty each."
I see Jordan nod, raising his eyebrows. He looks up at me. "What do you think?"
"I mean," I shrug. "It's a good idea."
"Alright." He says. "I'll take them."
"Awesome." The clerk says, opening his hand as he asks for the eyeliners and I gently had them to him. He walks over to the counter, having us to follow but I had to take a moment to slap the straight boy in the arm.
"You're spending a hundred-sixty bucks for her?"
"Duh." He raises his eyebrow at me with eyes looking as puzzled as ever. "She's my girl, I gotta make her feel special, you know?"
He walks towards the cashier where the girl with blonde streaks was scanning the pens one by one. "I guess if you have the money, it wouldn't be much of a problem."
He huffs, raising his hand, lifting his index and middle finger. "Two weeks of working at that diner. I even had to do overtime for a couple of days."
"Is that how it really is?" I ask him, leaning on the counter. "You know, love?"
Fishing out his wallet from his back pocket, he nods at me with a sincere look. "She got me a new pair of Nike shoes, the Kyrie 2 Limited Edition. I can't just let her win like that." He chuckles. "But in all seriousness, yes. If you're truly in love with someone, you'd sacrifice a lot just to make that person happy."
"That would be one hundred seventy-two dollars, with tax." The blonde girl smiles, Jordan hands her the exact amount.
What he said was engraved in my mind, only then making me realize that I haven't done anything for Dylan. It's always been him sacrificing and buying stuff for me. I knew I had to get him back so that he wouldn't feel like I'm using him. That would be the worst situation to be in, pouring your heart and soul and even money into someone who was just using you after all. I don't want him to even think about that.
I knew I had to get him back, but I didn't know how.
_ . _
Turns out Jordan already has a car since he's turned eighteen a month ago, so he was the one who drove me home. As soon as we pull over to the front gate of my house, I send Dylan a text to let him know I'm home safe.
"Thanks, Bray." Jordan says, we share a handshake that was followed by a fist bump after.
"No problem." I tell him, opening the car door, shutting it as soon as I get out. He sends me one last wave before he drives off, the red lights behind his car shining on the concrete of the street. I unlock the gate and walk on the stone path leading to the front door. Judging from the flashing colors that can be seen through the window, I can tell that someone was watching TV, or at least someone turned it on.
As I get in, Max and Mom were on the couch, watching an episode of Modern Family on the screen.
"Oh my god, Modern Family." I squeal, hurrying to take a seat between the two. "Just in time."
Max takes his feet off the couch, turning the TV off as soon as I get my butt on the soft sofa. I glare at him for a second before he nods over to mom, so I turn my head to the opposite side to look at her.
"Braydon, honey." She says with a tone that's so concerned I was fearing what was coming next. What the hell could've happened in the amount of time I wasn't here? I was literally gone for like, twenty hours or something. Nothing bad must've happened or else they would have called me earlier.
"How is your friend, Dylan?"
Her putting a certain accent and stress on the word friend made me sure that she definitely knew something.
"Great, I guess." I tell her, nervous but honest. "We've been growing closer."
She stares me down, just like she did when I was younger and I wasn't confessing to an act I did. Like that one time I accidentally spilled half a gallon of milk on the floor and denied doing it, she stared me down as long as she can until I finally came clean.
Goddammit, woman.
"Oh my god, fine." I groan, rolling my eyes. "He's sort of- my boyfriend, okay? I hate it when you do that."
"Definitely your boyfriend." Max butts in, I elbow him in the arm in return.
"So you're-" She looks at me with burdened eyes.
"Gay, yes."
"What gave it away, anyway?" I urge to ask. "I mean, it must've been obvious ever since I was a child but what got you to finally ask me."
"He kissed you last night." Max answers for mom, who has now gotten off the couch and started pacing around in front of the TV. "You probably forgot that all of us were there when he leaned in to kiss you in the hall when Janie was saying hi to us."
Oh, yeah.
Woopsie.
"Braydon, go to your room, please?" Mom says, her voice sounding distressed. I didn't know what was wrong, but everything was definitely not okay. She had her hands in her hair as she aimlessly paced back and forth the space in the living room.
Max gets up, walking towards her. "Mom, come on. Take it easy, nothing about him has changed." He grabs her hands from her hair, holding her wrists as they shook. "He's still the Braydon we know."
I get up, not having a fucking clue what was going on. Was she having a hard time accepting the fact that I'm gay? Is this what's really happening right now? I thought she was going to be totally fine with it, I thought she wouldn't care since the only thing she really cared about was my safety.
"No no no no no no no no no no." She points her shaking hands at me. "You're not gay, Braydon. You're not gay. You liked girls when you were younger. You're not gay."
"Mom, hey." Max tries to get her to calm down.
"I am definitely gay." I tell her. "I've been all this time. It might have taken me a while to realize it, but that's who I really am. It doesn't change a single thing about me and frankly, it shouldn't even be such a big deal. I can't change this piece of myself, mom. I might be able to change the other parts that I have, like the way I talk, how I act, I can change my perspective on things but I can't change the fact that I'm not straight. I can't mom, even if I tried. You can change your perspective, mom."
She doesn't ease up, her hands still shaking and I see her knees beginning to buck. Luckily, Max catches her just in time to break her fall.
He looks over his shoulder to me. "Go to your room, Bray, I'll handle this."
"No." I disagree. "Max this is something I should be handling."
"Just get the fuck up to your room!" He snaps.
Taken aback, my was heart pounding so hard against my chest that I can hear the thumps in my ears. My eyes start to water even though I didn't want them to. He doesn't look away, the anger in his eyes doesn't leave either. I brush the back of my hand quickly through my eyes, wiping them dry as I run up the stairs, slamming my door shut behind me. I quickly turn the knob to lock it, struggling to lock the dead bolt as well with my shaking hands.
I collapse on the floor, my back leaning against the wall as I hear one of the doors of the bedroom open, the footsteps hurrying to get downstairs. It was probably dad, awoken by the sound of my door slamming shut.
I don't do well breaking down on my own, it takes me hours to recover rather than the minutes that it takes if I had someone with me. The tears were still coming out of my eyes, painting my cheeks wet as they rolled down, teardrops soaking my shirt little by little. I dig my phone out of my pocket, my hands turning ice cold as I fumble to get to the damn thing to call someone.
I place it on the floor, having the call on speaker as I couldn't hold it up to my ear by how weak my hands were beginning to feel. Next, it would be my arms and then my legs.
"Yo," The voice picks up.
"Jordan." My voice cracks, finding difficulty in speaking in between the sobs and the heaving I was doing. "I need you. Jordan, can you come back?"
I breathe louder, my lungs demanding for more air. I lurch over to the floor, my cheek meeting the carpet as I stare blankly ahead.
"What happened?" His voice spikes, his tone changing. I hear his quick footsteps, shortly after the sound of dangling keys, then the sound of the car door opening and closing, then the harsh sound of the engine. "Braydon I'm on my fucking way, open the window for me."
I push myself up with one arm, my other hand clutching my chest. I quickly get on my feet, trying to get to the window as fast as I can, feeling my legs shake with every step, threatening me to fall back down. I crash to my knees as I get there, pushing the window up with all the energy I had left.
I push myself backwards, my back landing on the side of my soft bed. I extend my legs in front of me, closing my eyes as I try to focus on breathing. Still clutching my chest, I force myself to inhale and exhale slower, forcing my heart to reduce its pace and get myself to calm down as best as I can.
Luckily, it wasn't too long until Jordan got to me. I saw his hands grip on the window shelf, his head emerging from the dark, followed by his body. Once he slips himself inside, he gets to me, kneeling down right in front of me as he pulls my body to his, letting my head rest on his shoulder as I make my weak arms wrap around his body.
"You're fine, I'm here, okay?" He whispers, running his hand up and down my back. "I'm here now."
I close my eyes, finding comfort in his presence. I tell myself that I'm alright now, I'm safe, that it's okay for myself to trail or doze off. I hear banging on the door, which now sounded muffled, knowing that I was losing consciousness. It was Max's voice, calling out my name as he punched the door aggressively.
Jordan lays me back on the bed, hearing his footsteps walk over to the door.
"Back the fuck up." Jordan says, hearing a grunt come from my brother, making me think he's shoved him.
"No, kid. You back the fuck up."
"You did this to him!" He yells, though there was no sound of physical contact. Max probably stayed where he was, backing down.
I furrow my eyebrows, trying to get my eyes to open but they felt too heavy.
"Let me deal with him." Jordan growls. "You won't come in until he wants you to."
I hear the door shut, the dead bolt following after.
He comes to me, shaking my shoulder. "Braydon? I need you to unlock your phone."
I can't do anything.
I can't move even a finger to unlock the phone for him.
He curses. "Hey Siri," He calls out, hearing the beep on the phone. "Call Dylan."