KJ's POV
I sit in my office for a minute, wondering if I should go after her or not. Before I can decide my phone rings and I answer it. "Hello?"
"I just got a break," Wren's voice rings over the speaker, "You still up for coffee?"
Fuck no. "Yeah, where are you at?" I reply.
She gives me directions to a Starbucks about ten minutes from me and I head out, making sure my door is still locks before I leave. God, these kids...
I arrive before Wren and take the time to order myself something to drink. It's a nice day, so I find a seat outside, hoping that the sun will do me some good.
"Well, well," I recognize her voice before I recognize her. She's gotten thicker over the years, and somehow hotter. However, unlike when we were kids, I don't want to crumble at her feet. None of the emotions I'd fought in high school plague me. I kind of hate her, actually.
"Hey," I offer her my hand and she pulls me in for a hug.
"You got hot, Parker," she smiles, taking me in, "I like the hair."
"Thanks," I impulsively run a hand through it, "And um it's Michaels, now. You look good too."
"I'll go get something to drink and we'll catch up," she walks away and I feel a wave of regret hit me over the head. Why would I sleep with her?
I still remember how I got put out of college. Put out of my dad's. How Layne woke up. And Dil rejected me. And she welcomed me into her arms. It was a one night stand the night before I left for Cali and up until now I'd vowed to never speak to her again.
I shake my head, chasing the thought away.
Wren returns, taking a seat, "So how have you been?"
"Good," I reply, more out of habit than anything else, "I'm a counselor now."
"That's good. It's a couple steps out from college drop out, alcoholic," she laughs at her own joke.
"Ha, yeah," I force a laugh, "What's up with you? Are you still in culinary?"
"Yes ma'am," she nods, pleased with herself. That said, I already knew she was still in culinary. Even when I left St. Louis and ghosted everyone, I still researched just about everyone I graduated NCT with. Most of them had odd and end jobs, a couple like me left culinary entirely, but Wren Davis? Wren Davis was crushing it. After graduation she'd been offered a number of jobs almost immediately, and was currently climbing her way to five star chef status.
"I need a favor," I exhale. She reaches for my hand, "What is it?"
"I have a friend who needs a job," I begin.
"Is this about Layne?" she guesses without pause.
"What makes you say that?" I get defensive.
"It is isn't it?" She mock laughs, "You're still wrapped around her finger. Just like when we were kids."
"We're just friends now," I reply.
"No one said you were more than friends," she shrugs, "But since you brought it up, you obviously are more than friends," she laughs, "Your hair is just about the only thing that's changed you. And your style."
We stare at each other, her eyes challenging me to say something.
"Are you gonna help me or not?" I say. It's already been a day. I'm not in the mood for her either.
"Sure," she agrees, surprisingly.
"Really? That's it?"
"Oh, Kaylie Jane," she rubs my hand tenderly, "What did you expect? Me to use you for sex in repayment? KJ I'm a businesswoman now. And we do need new people. So send her in for an interview, and if she's good, she gets the job. Simple."
"You don't want anything?"
"Truthfully, you have nice lips and I'd like to kiss you again," she admits, "But I'm not a horny teenager anymore, Kaylie Jane. You aren't the only one who's changed over the years."
I take a second look at her, noticing how older she seems. Suddenly, I feel my age. I'm twenty four, which isn't that old, but feels a hell of a lot older all things considered. And I just went off on a seventeen year old kid a couple minutes ago.
"I have to go," I hold out my hand, "Shake on it?" I offer.
"Aren't you going to have me swear on it?" she jokes.
For a moment I don't understand. Then I do. "I don't make promises like that anymore."
"Oh, bummer. You were cuter when you did," She takes my hand and places a kiss on it. We make eye-contact and she smirks, "Are we done here?"
"Yes, ma'am," I stand up, "Nice seeing you again."
"You too," she nods, "Maybe next time we meet up, we can actually talk?"
I pause, "Yeah, maybe."
I grab my jacket and race back to work.
***
"How was lunch?" I run into Ms. Lea on my way back in.
"It was good," I say.
"Have you seen Ella? After she talked to you she disappeared," she asks.
Gotdamnit. "Yeah, I'll find her," I reply, "She can't be far." Fuck. I head to the roof, and to my surprise, find she's not there. Double fuck.
As I'm coming back inside I look around. I glance around and pick a random wing, on a whim. Roof access faces the back, so if Ella is climbing up here, her room can't be too, far.
"Ms. KJ..."
I glance around, and see Charlie, watching me. "You know where she went don't you?"
She hands me a drawing and hurries back to what I assume is her room. I unfold it, seeing that it's nothing but a shit picture of a forest. Clearly it wasn't drawn by Charlie. That much is clear.
I pull out Google and check to see the nearest grouping of trees, but to no avail. After all, Christ Almighty was way closer to the city than the suburbs. Any grouping of trees wouldn't be left standing with all the new infrastructure constantly popping up in my city. Fucking hell.
I stop a boy at random and show him the picture, "Does this mean anything to you?"
"It means whoever drew it can't draw," he laughs.
"Come on, kid, it's important," I beg.
He takes another look, "Aight, it's called 'forest park' but it's not a forest, feel? There's a really old parking garage about two miles from here. Kids hang there sometimes. Smoke. Make-out. You know?"
"Thanks, um---"
"James," he shakes my hand, "Good luck finding her."
At least I know she's a creature of habit. I get into my truck and search out this lot. I find it, lodged between several other run down buildings. At first glance, any possibly entrance seems overgrown and generally dangerous to enter.
I park and look for a way in, hoping I'm not murdered or raped in the process. I find a path cleared by use and duck inside the building, smelling like flames and stale weed.
"Ella?" I call, my voice echoing.
"She's not here right now!" her voice calls back. Thank God she's okay. Streaks of light filter through the crack pavement above, guiding my steps as I make my way across the glass covered ground. Most of it is so over grown, it's more grass than anything else. It's no wonder it's call the forest. Give it two hundred years and it probably will be one again.
I take a seat next to her, being careful not to catch hepatitis. "Look, Ella---"
"You know what's not in that file?" she cuts me off.
I chuckle lightly, "How can I know what's not in the file?"
"It's not funny," she states, "You know what's not in the file? Well it doesn't say that I was raised catholic. It doesn't say that my father stopped speaking to me after I came out. Mi abuela thought that she could beat that gay out of me. It doesn't mention all of the Hail Mary's I performed. It doesn't say that before every meal I had to repent for something I can't control. That's not in the police records for why I was arrested. I was stealing food. I bet none of that is in that fucking file is it?"
"It's not." I confirm.
She averts her eyes, but I can tell she's crying, "I bet it isn't. Because nobody believed me. Not the church. Not the police. Not a damn person. Everyone is quick to label you a runaway. But nobody ever cares what you're running from."
I place a gentle hand on her shoulder, feeling her shake underneath it. I wait for her to calm down before standing and helping her up. As we walk back to my truck in silence, I clear my throat. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like I did."
"It's fine," she replies, "It's what I'm used to."
"But that doesn't make it right. I care about you, Ella. You aren't a waste of my time," I say, "I want you to know that. Let's go home."
We pull back up to the home and I leave my truck out front, running in just to close up my office and get my things. Laid on my desk, I find a note scribbled on the pad I keep for Charlie.
Thank you.
***
Layne's POV
I'm still on the ground when the door slams behind KJ on her way out. Even with her gone, I lay on the floor for a moment after, wondering what just happened. Eventually, I get up and shower, then show myself around the house.
From what I can tell, Vin and KJ slept in my mom's old room, leaving Dil's and mine untouched. The guest room off the kitchen has been turned into an office of some type, and from a quick look inside I can guess that Vin gets the most use out of it. There's a futon in the corner made into a sloppy bed in one corner and some building sketches in another.
I head back into the living room and clean up after us from last night. I vacuum that room and then sweep the kitchen as well. By the time KJ gets home, I've made dinner as well.
"So what, you're my maid now?" she appears in the doorway, "Smells good in here."
"Thanks. It's chicken parmesan," I smile, "How was work?"
She hesitates, "It was... It happened."
"Hungry?" I question.
"Starved," she takes a seat at the table and I serve her a plate.
"So last night---" I take a seat across from her.
"Layne---"
"---I just want you to know nothing happened," I say, "In case you were worried."
She nods, "I didn't think so."
We continue eating in silence, the playful mood from yesterday replaced with a more sober one. But it's not a bad one. It's just a different one.
"Yesterday," she clears her throat, "Yesterday you said you needed a place to stay. What happened with your brother?"
I take a deep breath, "He's been lying to me about something." I pause and then decide to elaborate, "He's married."
"How long has he been married?" she questions.
"Since before I came out of my coma," I reply, "They--They didn't think I'd wake up."
"That's fucked up," she smirks.
I stop eating, "Your sense of humor is fucked if you think that's funny."
"I'm sorry," she shakes her head, "But your brother's a bitch. No tea, no shade."
She starts laughing and I can't help but laugh with her. "Yeah, I guess he is sometimes."
"Well, you're cool here for however long," she grins, "And even longer if you're gonna keep cooking for me like this."
"Thank you," I reply, only just realizing that she hadn't answered me yesterday.
"I got you a job today, too," she adds, "I can text you the location. It's tomorrow at three."
As the night winds down I find myself in my old room, the familiarity having worn off throughout the years.
"You okay?" KJ passes by my room, checking on me, "Need anything?"
"I'm good," I respond, "But can I ask you something?"
"What's up?" she enters, taking a seat on my bed.
"If I'm gonna stay here, can you promise me you won't lie to me?"
"Of course," she shrugs, "We're friends."
She stands to leave, and I grab her wrist, "Wait. Kaylie Jane?" I realize I look for just about any excuse to touch her. Every time I do, I feel the energy between us.
And I'm pretty sure that was the same reason she avoided touching me.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I kissed you," I apologize, "I know that it was awhile ago, but I keep thinking about it, now. And I wish I wasn't. But I want it to happen again. And I wish I didn't."
"That's okay," she pulls away, avoiding eye contact with me, "I think about it, too."
She stands there for a minute longer, then turns to leave.