Chapter 23
It was still too soon to determine the aftermath.
What, with winter break commencing that following Tuesday, many students opted to leave that very weekend. And it was no surprise that Penelope was among them.
Miren walked Rinzen's deserted campus as she contemplated another holiday alone. She pursed her lips against the cold air. It won't be that bad, she considered as she kicked some snow off her boots. She'd finally have some peace. And the idea of sleeping until noon was practically orgasmic.
She made it to the mess hall before realizing that it wasn't open. Spinning around, she thought of getting her homework out of the way. Then she could indulge in a vending machine lunch. Yum.
Crossing the greenery, which was blanketed in flecks of powder white snow from the brief snowfall last week, she let her mind wander to the inevitable. This would be the final semester, wouldn't it? She would no longer be able to hide in her illusion of an identity. She'd have to say goodbye to the school, her safe haven, to—
She bumped into someone before she realized it. Looking up, a thousand apologies spilled from her mouth. Until she realized who was standing before her.
"Jeno?" She lifted a brow. "I thought you left this morning."
"I left to get some travel supplies." He tossed her a duffle bag. Her duffle bag. "Now let's go. This campus is creepy. Even by my standards."
"You and I both know that's a dumb idea." She blinked. "Wait, where are we going?"
"My house," he said matter-of-factly, like he was asking her if she was hungry. Which she was, but she ignored her grumbling stomach for the bigger issue at hand. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You didn't really think I'd leave you here?"
"I don't know what you think," she replied through pursed lips, before pushing the bag toward him. "In any case, I'm not going. I can't."
"Do you trust me?" She hated the look in his eyes. They were more sentimental than serious, which meant she couldn't blow him off with a snide remark. Damn it.
"You know I probably trust you way more than I should." Miren sighed. "But the cafeteria's closed, and I don't entirely feel like having Cheez-Its for dinner." She motioned for the gates. "Lead the way."
Jeno's lip jerked up in something that resembled a smile.
***
They took the Amtrak to Philadelphia, and as Miren watched the landscape transform into a winter wonderland, her mind couldn't help but wander. To make matters worse, Jeno dosed off the minute the train began to move, but he did spend the majority of the other night convincing his parents that he didn't want to come home for the holidays.
For all she knew, she might have been the bargaining tool.
He leaned against her shoulder slightly, but she didn't know what to make of the gesture. She was finally comfortable being with him, but comfortable didn't mean romantic. And although something told her they'd still be friends even if they couldn't work out in such a regard, she had no desire to chance it.
Right?
She brushed a few hairs away from his face when no one was looking. He stirred lightly, but she turned her attention back to the window, the stretch of skyscrapers in the horizon. Her phone beeped. A text from Chara.
Chara: Wallace said that Park is pretty torn up about the video. But didn't it look like something was between him and Artemis?
Miren rolled her eyes at the parade of kissy emoji's her friend proceeded to send her, but Chara's confirmation was both what she needed and dreaded.
There was a way Artemis looked at Parker, a way they latched onto each other's hands that hardly seemed platonic. She gulped, shaking her head. She was in no position to assume anything. Let alone feel some type of way.
She was as responsible for the union as she wasn't. If they want to be together, so be it. Whatever hurt Penelope made Miren stronger, right? But why did it feel like she had a boulder in her chest? Was it guilt? Jealousy?
Or was it something else entirely? Something worse?
Jeno yawned, and she refocused her attention to the boy. She sucked in a small breath, careful not to shift too much. That's right, she had bigger things to worry about.
Like spending winter break at a mansion.
***
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me before we get there?" Miren said as they strolled into the affluent neighborhood of Verona. The most modest thing about it was the beat up taxi they were riding in.
And her.
"Nothing that you shouldn't already be aware of." Jeno scratched his head, watching a stone tower of a home pass them. His eyes lit up. "Why? Are you scared?"
"There's a great Italian place on New Haven Street," the oblivious taxi driver answered for her. "Their calamari is the best in all of New England."
"Is that so?" as Jeno began to humor the older man in conversation, Miren sighed. She didn't want to admit that she regretted coming here, even if it was nice to get out of Rinzen. Because she could feel the taxi slow, and she knew once they reached his home, she wouldn't be able to escape.
"Alright," the man said, pulling into a driveway. The home was a blend of contemporary and traditional, with a front, beige colored balcony and russet brick and stone features. It was very symmetric, with circular second floor windows, and two triangular mini roofs that poked along the sides of the home. The only thing that wasn't symmetric was the vegetation that grew along the outer walls of the home. The home wasn't too large, but what it lost in size it made up in elegance. A pair of mahogany, glass stained doors invited them inside.
"You can stop staring at anytime." Miren didn't even realize Jeno had left the car until he opened her door. The taxi driver drove off, and as the cold December air hit her, she could only blink.
"It just seems so nice and welcoming." She turned to her friend. "How did you get so cold if you grew up here?"
"You haven't even gone inside yet," Jeno replied, his sneakers crunching against the snow. "Save your impressions until then."
Miren rolled her eyes before following. But once she entered the home, her expectations were officially blown. It was how one might expect a New England mansion. There was intricate wooden molding, and the foyer looked like it belonged in some Rich & Fancy home catalogue. It was only fitting that Jeno dumped his snow-slushed suitcase and shoes in the middle of the floor.
"Mom?" he called as he entered the kitchen. The space was silent, but the light was on. Miren felt a little uncomfortable just marching into a stranger's home, but when Jeno emerged from the space, he pulled her toward the living room.
"She begs me to come home as if she's ever actually here," Jeno mumbled, as they entered a room with emerald carpet. There were a number of accolades on the walls and over the fireplace, but Jeno ignored them, moving into yet another room. What appeared to be a den or office.
There, a woman who was basically Sandra Bullock's look a like was typing meticulously on her computer as she spoke on her phone.
"Tell John Hopkins that they can shove their sensor controlled endoscopic endonasal techniques up their a—" Jeno cleared his throat and the woman looked up. She rolled her eyes. "I'll call you back in a little bit." She put down the phone before rising to her feet, sizing up the boys.
"Nice of you to finally join us," his mother said, folding her arms in a manner that seemed too familiar. Miren smiled, though she wanted to laugh. Forget being the boy version of Jemma, he was the younger, male version of his mother. It shouldn't have been surprising or amusing, but it was.
"This is Miles Ellison. My roommate," Jeno replied instead, motioning to Miren. "His parents are overseas and it felt wrong leaving him behind. So I forced him to come here against his will."
"Is this true?" There was a playful look in her eyes. "If that's the case, we'll have to keep Miles and send you back."
Jeno shrugged. "If you must."
His mother laughed before turning toward Miren. "I'm Janice Rutherford. You can call me Janice, or Dr. R, or Mrs. R," she listed off. "Or white mom."
"What?" Miren almost choked. How is she even more dry than Jeno?
The woman laughed again. "Just kidding. Unless you want to. The social psychiatric division at UPenn had this great seminar on attacking racial biases head on. "In fact, we almost adopted a little boy from Congo a few years back."
"This isn't The Blindside," Jeno said, shaking his head. "But it's nice to see you too, I suppose."
"Your father will be starting dinner in a little bit," Janice said, tapping some papers straight on her desk. "He went grocery shopping with Jemma." The woman motioned for the living room. "Please, Miles. Make yourself at home."
Miren nodded. "Thank you again for having me." She thought about adding an honorific, but she didn't know if Jeno's mother's name options were some sort of sick test. She turned to the boy next to her. "Is there somewhere I can put my duffle bag?"
"Well, well, well." Miren didn't have to turn around to know who said this. But she did anyway, forcing a neutral expression toward her headmaster. Edsel smiled as he crossed the room with a shopping back at hand. "Don't tell me Jeno dragged you here against your will?"
"Guilty." Miren matched his grin, but her brain was screaming on the inside. "Um, how are you, Dr. Edsel?"
"You can call him Roger here," Jeno told her, offering his brother a sly grin. It was then that she noticed that their resemblance was strongest when they were trying to make her uncomfortable.
"I know I said it was sexist to assume that you'd carry all of my bags, but you could have been a little more helpful." When the honey-haired woman came into the room with a boatload of bags, Miren knew it was a official. There was a level lower than hell.
Ms. Cowdry frowned at her and Jeno. "Two days until Christmas? You couldn't have waited one more day to come by? Now Roger wins the bet."
"Pay up," he said, before swiftly pecking her lips. "Or we could just keep doing this." The exchange intensified and Janice and Jeno scoffed simultaneously.
"I swear, you act like more like a horny teenage boy than Jeno." In the kissing commotion, Miren hadn't noticed an older man in his late 50's step in. He looked like George Clooney's less smug older brother. His blue eyes lit up in something that could only be described as playful contempt. "That type of behavior is precisely the reason why you two can't share a room." The man turned to the new company. "It's good to see you two. Miles, correct?"
Miren nodded as the man offered her a hard hand shake. "Rory Rutherford."
"Pleasure to meet you," Miren replied. Part of her wondered where Jemma was, but she could hear some movement in the other room and figured it had to be her.
"I'm sure you're both tired. Feel free to relax a bit before dinner. Jemma and I will be cooking fish sandwiches. We're mostly pescatarian. Do you have any dietary constraints?" She shook her head. "Good." The older man motioned for the second staircase down the hallway. "Then you can put your stuff in Jeno's room." He patted his son's shoulder. "Go ahead and show him the way."
Jeno's eyes widened. "What about the guest room?"
"I'm afraid Ms. Cowdry's occupying it." His old man shrugged. "Would you prefer the garage?" He laughed and Jeno fought the urge to scowl. He nodded, motioning for Miren to follow.
"Whatever. We'll make do."
"Why are guys so weird about sharing beds with each other?" Jemma then said as she entered the room. When she finished tying on her apron, her eyes latched on Miren's. "I'd let you'd sleep in my room, but we all know how possessive Jeno-weno can be."
Jeno hissed, but all Miren could do was force a smile. Because if she thought about it too hard, forget her brain screaming—she'd start screaming. She felt the apologetic look Jeno gave her as he led her out of the room, but it was practically worthless.
Sure, she shared a room with him at school, but she'd never shared a bed. And since they lived in the land of unresolved feelings, she knew this arrangement spelt trouble.
And trouble was a fugly word.