CHAPTER THREE!
PAPER CASTLES FRANKIE LYMON
& THE TEENAGERS
THERE'S THIS NEW place a few blocks from your house. You'd love it. Wanna catch up?
After clarifying that this new place happened to be a diner, I wholeheartedly accepted Jordan Phillips' invitation. He arrived minutes later, in a sleek silver car—his own car. I remembered the days that Jordan would show up at my house and walk me to his destination. Those days, clearly, were over.
He'd greeted me with a shy smile, and said, "You look pretty."
A smile had pulled on my lips, along with a frown of confusion, because I'd only thrown on a tank top and jeans, and pulled my curly hair into a ponytail. Still I thanked him, and noticed, for the first time, how handsome he was. His hair, the brown now swallowing most of the blond, was swept to either side, similar to River Phoenix's hair in Running On Empty.
Jordan's bones seemed sharper now, more defined, although there was still a soft roundness to his cheeks. He was the very image of a soft beam of light, it seemed—only he was not Benny, whom had superseded the sun in my world alone. Surely no one could love him as much as me, save for Elizabeth.
As the silence had engulfed the two of us, these were my thoughts. Everything, everything revolved around Benny, even still. Being with Jordan somehow only reminded me of that.
Finally, we arrived at an unfamiliar but welcoming diner. Signs plastered the windows, glowing neon colors. Above the diner, in giant, glowing pink script read: Ruby's. The entire building was reminiscent of a fifties or sixties diner. Before we even entered, I sent Jordan the nod of approval.
The inside was magical, with a black and white checkered tile floor, dozens of plaques and records and posters of old-time celebrities swallowing the baby yellow walls, along with a shiny red old-fashioned telephone. Normal lights were dulled; the inside was illuminated with color: pink and purple, mostly. Against one of the walls rested a jukebox, in front of which stood two laughing girls.
There were several people inside already: Clearly Ruby's Diner was already popular. Most of the booths—red-seated and yellow-tabled—were taken, as well as the long, red bar stools. The majority of the customers were teenagers, which amazed me, although there was an old couple at one corner, shooting spitballs at each other.
Jordan leaned to touch his lips to my ear, over the steady noise. "We got lucky," he said. "One of the best seats is open."
My eyes turned to Jordan, and then followed his finger. On the opposite end of the diner an empty booth awaited. Just beside it, resting in a hollowed out space in the wall, was a motorcycle, painted the brightest red.
If my eyes had been alight before, they were blazing now. "Cool!"
Jordan laughed and touched his cool fingers to my arm; shivers ran down my spine. As if sensing this, he quickly moved his hand away. Feeling slightly guilty, I smiled up at him, playfully touched my shoulder to his, and moved for the booth.
After claiming the empty booth and each receiving a menu for our perusal by a waitress who strongly resembled a red-headed Marilyn Monroe, I allowed myself to ask the question that had been bugging me the most.
"Didn't you say you were grounded?"
Jordan's dark eyes flickered upward through his lashes to meet mine; probably he had no idea how attractive it was, no idea how chills pricked my skin for it. Then a smirk turned the edges of his lips. That, too, had a strange effect on me.
"Yes."
He returned his attention to the menu, as if I had asked such an extremely simple question. I stared at him, bewildered, for a moment. Then a grin cracked across my face, followed by a laugh. "Are you serious?"
"As serious as this milkshake you're about to try." Jordan looked up at me, dropping his menu. "Trust me, it's great."
Another laugh escaped. "Oh, I can see you don't want any questions."
He shrugged. "It's simple. My dad isn't even in the state—New York, work thing. And my mom is hardly ever home these days either. Also a work thing."
My eyebrows rose. "Well...."
Jordan chuckled. "I don't mind. I'd rather be here with you than stuck in the house. It's the summer. It's time to break rules anyway."
"Is that what you thought when you came home drunk?" I laughed.
Winking, he pointed a finger at me. "Exactly. Anyway, are you ready to order?"
"Yeah." I dropped the menu atop Jordan's, and then winked at him. "Why don't you get red-headed Marilyn's attention?"
Jordan's brows furrowed. "Why'd you look at me like that? That little...mischievous look."
"Come on, put it together. She looks like a young Marilyn Monroe." When Jordan stared at me blankly, without understanding, my mouth dropped. "You mean to tell me you're not in love with her? If I liked girls, I probably would be."
Jordan leaned back into the cushioned seat, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes locked on mine. "There's only one girl in this room who catches my attention," he said, "and it isn't her."
Red-headed Marilyn seemed to materialize out of thin air. Surely everyone would notice the embarrassing flame of my cheeks. After she took my order, she moved on to Jordan, and I looked away, desperately hoping that my cheeks would return to normal.
At the jukebox stood a familiar brunette. The sight of her tightened my throat. She smiled and, finished with her selection, skipped over to her table.
There sat Benny, arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes trained on Brandy. Fortunately, the embarrassment of Jordan's comment had vanished from my mind. Unfortunately, the red of my cheeks, the burning sensation, did not find relief. The reasoning merely changed.
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"GOOD, isn't it?" Jordan watched me with a grin, eyes burning bright.
The milkshake—some mixture of Jordan's, a light red color—did taste wonderful. A burst of coconut and some strong berry exploded on my tongue, and I gasped.
"Oh, my God!" I whisper-yelled. "Can I have this?"
Jordan laughed loudly, leaning back into the booth to watch me. His eyes positively twinkled. "Sure."
"Not really." I pushed the tall, curling glass across the table. "I wouldn't take your stuff like that."
Grinning, Jordan reached to pluck the straw from my own milkshake. He stuck it into his milkshake, directly across from the straw I had just drank from.
"Here," Jordan said. "We can share."
The smile on my face only grew brighter. "You're a hero, you are."
"Oh, why something so cliché?" Jordan's eyes turned down to rest on the yellow table. "Heroes always save the pretty girls. You hardly need saving."
Little does he know, I thought. The boy I loved was sitting across the room, in perfect view, enjoying the company of his girlfriend. Meanwhile, I felt as though I were drowning. Drowning in the sheer pain of it all. I was pathetic.
"Sorry," Jordan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding my gaze. "I'm really bad at this— Well, you know. Anyway, tell me about your new sister. Tessa, right?"
A smile turned on my mouth. "Oh, she's so cute. Everyone loves her. I love her. You'll love her."
"I can't wait to meet her," Jordan laughed, and there was an impossible brightness of joy in that smile, sparkling in his eyes, that I could not help but to admire. "She sounds very lovable."
Just then the song switched, and I was nearly startled to hear Frankie Lymon's voice. Jordan watched as my face lit up, and could only smile warmly.
"Do you know this song?" he asked, midway through the song, as I sang along quietly to every lyric.
I broke off with a grin. "Do I know this song! Jordan, honey...do you know this song?"
He gave me a mixture between a smile and a brace for pain. Already he winced. "I...do now?"
For the millionth time, it seemed, I laughed. "Why do you get that look on your face? Like I'm going to— Oh."
It was Jordan's turn to burst into laughter. "Yeah, did you forget? You've already busted my nose before."
"You were hardly the same person then," I defended, raising a finger in the air in a matter-of-fact manner. "Back then, you were Phillips. Now you're you. Jordan."
Smiling, he hooked his bottom lip between his teeth. Everything he did sent tingles all through my veins. Made me want to—
Ugh. Teenage hormones.
Despite all of that, I couldn't help but to glance in Benny's direction—probably for the twentieth time. Not once had I caught him looking back at me. I shouldn't have expected him to, but still....
Suddenly the diner was much too loud, much too full. The voices blocked out Frankie Lymon's voice. I turned to look back at Jordan. It seemed that his eyes returned from some fixed point the moment mine did, and his smile had gone.
Half of my burger remained, along with a few french fries. "Do you mind if we take the rest of this to go?"
Jordan shrugged. Then realization seemed to dawn, shadowing his face. "If that's what you want," he finally said.
"Yes," I breathed.
The boy summoned red-headed Marilyn, whom was close already. As I stood to my feet, prepared to take the to-go boxes from the waitress, I caught the concluding line of the song.
In our own little kingdom of love.
Quickly I stuffed my food into the box, closed it, and made my way toward the front doors. Jordan followed closely behind, hands in his pockets. With an effort, I did not spare Benny a final glance.
B E N N Y
point of view.
EVERYWHERE I went, it seemed, and there she was. Kayla was like a ghost, haunting me and making me think irrational thoughts.
It should not have bothered me so deeply that she had walked into Ruby's Diner with Phillips. I'd noticed her the moment she entered, and my heart had ceased to beat. Even in a tank top and jeans, ponytail holding back her wild, beautiful curls, she was breathtaking.
Kayla had never seen Ruby's Diner—and part of me liked the diner so much because I'd always known that she would absolutely love it. And that particular portion of myself had formed the dream of being the one to show it to her. And Phillips just thought he could snatch her up and take my place....
Well, he was right. He had to be. Because I no longer had a place in her life, not like that. I despised myself for desiring it, because Brandy sat ahead of me, smiling that innocent, pretty little smile of hers, expecting my loyalty. And of course I would give it to her, of course—but the heart's deepest desires do not fade easily.
Seeing Phillips make her smile so brightly, so purely, clawed at my heart. Never once did she look at me today, or not that I noticed. As far as I could tell, she was not aware of my presence at all. And how could she be? Clearly she was enveloped in whatever joke Phillips was telling now.
Kayla deserved it, the happiness, the smiles, the laughter. She deserved all of the happiness in the world. Usually relationships ended in chaos and heartbreak. The latter had definitely been a factor, but not once had she been cruel to me. We'd been parted for reasons other than our differences. It was unfair that, now that she was back....
I tried to push her to the furthest depths of my mind, but Kayla was always there on the surface. Always. And I hated it. Hated the way that, when she left with Phillips, it ripped my sore heart in two.
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happy thanksgiving! what are you all thankful for? i'm thankful for everything.
also, i just published the first chapter of my stranger things ff (shades of green). if you've watched ST, you should check it out. (:
x kayla
stay gold
11.23.17