0 4
Bad Distraction
The smile that comes to Jalen's face does little to ease the nerves working its way into my system after agreeing to play a game.
He reaches for two bottles of liquor, before turning toward Malia on the couches and asking, "You playing too, Carrington?"
Malia briefly lifts her head from her phone, only to send a glare toward Jalen, who's grin widens in size at her obvious annoyance for using her last name. "No, Uccello, I'm not."
Jalen Uccello. I feel like I've heard that surname before, but it certainly doesn't sound like it's common. Hm, interesting.
Before I can ask about it, Malia makes me lose my damn train of thought by suddenly standing up and heading toward the door with her phone to her ear. Is this bitch really leaving me here?
"Where are you going?" I ask frantically.
She holds up a hand and waves it at me, but not in a heyyy kind of way, more like a shut the fuck up motion, and that makes my fists clench.
The door slams shut behind her after she exits. What else should I have expected? A rich girl and her privileged problems take priority over reconnecting with her cousin—who she dragged to this stupid fucking party and said she wanted to hang out with.
But whatever. I'm a big girl and I can handle myself... I think.
"What game are we playing?" I ask, curious as to why Jalen's carrying two bottles of tequila to the other side of the room.
Jalen seats himself on a two-seater couch, places the bottles onto the table, and looks at me expectantly. Taking the hint, I move closer, mentally debating where to sit. I'm assuming he sat on the two-seater so that we'd be next to each other, but considering the fact that we're literally all alone in a room that I'm ninety-nine percent sure is soundproof, I don't think I want to be that close to this stranger.
I gracefully sit—well, not really, more like throw myself—on the single seater chair located further down the small table he placed the liquor on. I maintain eye contact with the dark blue eyed boy the entire time, and once he notices I purposely sit far, a smile comes to his face, dimple popping out on the right side.
"Really? You couldn't pick a further seat?" He questions sarcastically.
I'm given no time to respond as his arm shoots out, gripping the leg of my chair and pulling it closer to the couch he's seated on.
"Excuse me," I say out loud, but he continues pulling my chair until it's close to the armrest he's leaning on. I reach out my hand and slap his arm away, but it's proven useless as he's already accomplished his goal of getting me closer.
My eyes roll on their own accord, though I'm honestly not too put off by the newfound closeness, even though I could hear him perfectly fine from where I previously was. The room definitely must be soundproof or something, because I could barely hear any noise coming from downstairs. I'd almost forgotten a party was going on.
"That's better. I almost couldn't hear you." The look I give him shows I don't believe that bullshit, seeing as I can't hear anything else but him and my breathing. "What? Remember, I'm partially deaf."
He takes a moment to laugh at his joke... well, his version of a joke. I remain with an unimpressed facial expression, and I wait until his cackles end before speaking again. "So, the game we're playing is...?"
"We're playing my second favorite game," he announces with a proud smile. He motions toward the tequila bottles and two shot glasses as he continues, "Twenty-one questions."
And the unimpressed facial expression remains, because really? Twenty-one questions? We can't find more people and play King's Cup? I'm ready to ask this very question, but I'm not sure if I actually could handle meeting anymore of these people. I'm lowkey annoyed with Malia for just disappearing on me, and that interaction with her friend David was weird. Jalen's personality is proving to be a handful to deal with on it's own. I don't know how I'd manage him and more friends just like him right now.
"Okay," I say hesitantly. I guess twenty-one questions is better than truth or dare. That would have been way too predictable. Either way, it'll be a distraction from everything else... I hope. "Any rules?"
He nods as he reaches for the bottles, holding one up to show me it, then placing it back down. "Yeah, they're pretty simple. We take turns asking each other something. If you choose to answer, be honest. If you don't answer, take a shot and we move onto the next question."
I hold my breath as I think over his rules for his sleazy version of the game. I'm usually a very private person, especially in moments like right now when I'm going through something. Answering any question this kid throws at me, no matter what, makes me feel itchy. I don't want to open up and reveal things—like how depressed this move has made me or how much it's bothering me that I still haven't heard from Jess, Liam, or even Bea about the party happening back home.
But, I'm also nosey as fuck, and that nosey part of me is curious to learn any and every thing about the people I'll spend the next nine months in school with. Malia didn't share as much as I'd like. I figure getting Jalen drunk and talking is my best bet to getting more information about Arlin Preparatory and the people in it.
"Let's play," I say, and I can't stop the smile that comes to my face when I see one on his. That smile drops when I add, "But I need to lay down some ground rules of my own."
He squints his eyes and slowly nods. "Seems fair enough. What are they?"
"Asking me if I'm a virgin is not accepted," I start off, because asking that question would be the immature and, again, predictable thing to ask.
"Oh, okay," he says, smile coming back as he seems fine with that rule. "Now, who's going to ask the first question?"
Shock comes to me for one second, as I actually can't believe he's totally fine with that. Maybe he's not as sleazy as I thought.
"Well, I have another. Asking for any details about my sex life is off the table." Silence follows that statement as we stare at each other for a few seconds.
He breathes in deeply, then nods his head once. "Alright. Is that all?"
The tone of his voice sounds clipped, as if he's just attempting to be polite by asking if those are my only rules. Honestly, he seems a little annoyed that I'm putting any topic off limit, seeing as the point of playing twenty-one questions is usually to get to know someone by asking them anything. If I don't want to answer, I literally don't have too. I can just take a shot and move on.
But I don't want to get drunk, especially not before him. And I've never been one to drink, so I certainly don't know my limit. I wouldn't say I'm a lightweight since I'm not a tiny girl, seeing as I'm five foot nine and tower over all of my female—and a lot of male—friends. I guess it's time to see if the term lightweight has anything to do with how much you actually weigh.
Thinking of getting hammered before Jalen and accidentally revealing more personal things about myself—and more importantly, not being able to properly interrogate him—becomes the only ideas in my head. And I can't stop either of those things from happening if one more other personal topic is still fair game.
"Asking why I'm going to Arlin Preparatory isn't allowed," I announce, lifting my chin in the air in a move I hope comes off as authoritative. I saw Malia do it earlier when talking to the guards and it worked. It made her seem like someone you shouldn't challenge.
"Okay, now you're pushing it," Jalen says, shaking his head and opening a bottle of liquor. "I won't ask about any of that stuff, but you're taking three shots right now."
Fuck my life. Of course trying to be Malia didn't work. It never did when I was little, and it certainly won't now considering how fucking different we are.
The annoyance I felt at Malia for ditching me comes back, but it transfers right over to annoyance at Jalen the moment he looks up from the newly filled shot glass to me.
My eyes widen the longer he looks at me expectantly. Three shots of hard liquor right off the bat, before we even get into the game?
"You're insane if you think I'm doing that. Because I'm fucking not, Jalen," I say harshly, in a much louder tone than either of us have used since we sat down. Clearly being Malia didn't work, so I've reverted back to how I do things. Cursing, yelling, and—if necessary—hitting.
Again, Jalen's face shows he doesn't care and isn't affected at all by my tone. He just keeps staring, and soon we enter a staredown. I'm not sure if we're just waiting to see who looks away first or if we're even allowed to blink, all I know is I won't back down first.
But there's something about the look in his eyes. He honestly looks like he could sit there, staring blankly right into my eyes, without breaking eye contact for fucking hours. The thought leaves me nervous and in awe at the concentration he has.
It also leaves me annoyed, because this means I end up losing. So right before I admit defeat and take those stupid shots, I vow to myself that this will be the first and only time I ever lose a game to Jalen Uccello.
"Fine, I'll take the shots, but then I get to ask you three questions back-to-back about anything," I say quickly, not really sure if he'll agree.
He reaches his hand out to lightly push the shot of tequila closer to me. "Drink up and ask away."
I huff before quickly reaching for the shot and downing it. It fucking burns my throat the whole way down and I have to squint my eyes just to keep going. Just as I place the glass back onto the table and take a deep breath in, Jalen's already filling it up and urging me to do another, all with a smirk present on his face, of course.
I down the next shot quicker, just wanting this to be over with. This time, I know to keep my eyes shut the whole time. I don't open them as I blindly hold out the glass in Jalen's general direction.
All I can hear is his laughter and feel him lightly tapping my wrist, indicating that he's filled the glass. I finish it quicker than the last one, and this time, the burn is nowhere near as unbearable as the first one. In fact, it kind of feels good.
Oh fuck. Maybe the term lightweight really has nothing at all to do with your weight.
"Are you good?" I hear Jalen ask. I open my eyes and look over at him. He's got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, trying to hold in his laugh.
"Mhm, I'm great," I announce, slamming my shot glass onto the table and turning to completely face him. "I'm ready to play."
His teeth release his lip and my eyes follow the action. He watches me watching him, and it really makes me wish I could just smack him without worrying about any repercussions. When he looks me over once and then smiles, I start to wish I could smack my damn self for liking his smile so much.
"Let's play," he says lowly. I have to strain just to hear what he said. Oh no, that means my hearing is all fucked up... and only after three shots?
I am so fucked for the rest of this game.
Jalen stares at me without saying anything for what feels like a minute, making me squirm a little under his gaze. My gosh, why does everything feel so intense when he looks at me like that?
"Are you gonna ask me a question or...?" he trails off, waving his hands around in the air.
"Oh, right," I respond stupidly. "Um... what's your middle name?"
We both look at each other confused, as I'm sure neither of us expected that. I can't remember what I originally wanted to know, though.
"A little random," he says with a laugh. Yeah, random and really fucking dumb, you mean. "It's Vincenzo."
Hm, Jalen Vincenzo Uccello. What a name.
Okay, that makes my next question easy, even though I already have a pretty good idea of what the answer could be. "What's your ethnicity?"
"Italiano," he answers in an Italian accent while holding his hand out in a what are you talking about? motion. Could be considered a little racist or stereotypical of him, but I guess it isn't since he's Italian?
But he doesn't usually talk with an Italian accent, so he's Americanized. Was he born here? Is he a citizen? Should I ask? No, no. I can't waste my last question on that. There was something I wanted to ask, the reason I had even made that deal earlier to be able to ask anything. And now I can't even remember. Clearly, those three shots are settling in. If I can't ask what I originally wanted too, at least one good thing still comes from playing this game: I now know I'm a motherfucking lightweight.
I shake my head, trying to refocus on what to ask next. He must notice my struggle, because he leans forward and says, "You know, my sex life isn't off limits."
My eyes widen as I look at him. He's closer than he was before. The closeness was something I had been fine with, but now, with the way he leaned in and cheekily said the words, I'm not okay with it. Well, I kind of am, and that's the bad part about it.
I lean as far away from him as I can, upper half of my body beginning to dangle off the side of my seat, and he thankfully takes the hint, pulling back with a smirk on his face.
I roll my eyes, becoming annoyed at how pleased he looks with himself. But this makes my next question finally come, as I can't help but wonder the answer considering all of his actions since we've met. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
His smirk drops for a moment, and he lightly smiles. "No, I do not."
I nod my head approvingly and smile back, holding in a laugh. Good, at least he's not being a sleazebag by acting this way while having someone. Or he is and is just a cheater. Gross.
"Now it's finally my turn," he says exasperated. He then raises a finger to his chin and looks off thoughtfully. "What can I even ask...?"
Such a drama queen. I literally said two things were off limits. He's acting as if I made a whole list.
"I'll start with something simple. Do you have a boyfriend?" He asks, then holds a hand up. "Let me rephrase that. Do you have a significant other? Let's not discriminate."
I'm smiling again, impressed by his inclusiveness. "I have a boyfriend."
He looks away and nods his head once, then returns his gaze to mine. I can't help but think that the look in his eyes is saying Challenge accepted.
I shake the thought away and ask what I've been wanting to know since earlier, as I've finally just remembered what it was now that we're on this topic. "How do you and Malia know each other?"
A shocked look comes to his face, before he covers it up and smiles. Probably wasn't expecting that. "We met at school."
"You gotta give me more than that," I say.
His smirk returns, his eyes lighting up. "I'd love too."
I scoff, not even shocked at the innuendo he's applied. I'm starting to think this is just how he always is, and I'm blaming the alcohol for why I don't mind.
"Have you given Malia more than that?" I try to ask casually—well as casually as my nosey ass can. From the minute he touched her lip I had been wondering exactly what their relationship is.
Jalen chuckles and then tsks. "Lyndon, you sound a little jealous."
I scrunch my face in confusion. Did I sound jealous? I didn't think I did. Then again, I've already established that my hearing has been impaired by those damn shots. "Just curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat, baby."
My stomach flutters for a second. I'm not sure if it's the shots in my system or hearing how easily that word rolled off his tongue. All I know is if it's reason number two, then I need to cut this shit out. My boyfriend will probably call me any second now, and me sitting here, blushing like a moron at some sleazy kid's words, is not good.
"Satisfaction brought it back," I stupidly mumble.
A sick smirk comes to his face, letting me know it definitely was reason number two, because damn it, this kid is too fucking attractive. That's something that's becoming even clearer as he subtly moves closer.
"Drink," I say loudly, reaching for the bottle of tequila between us.
His smirk is wiped off, replaced with a confused look. "Why?"
"Um, because we're playing a game where you drink if you don't answer a question," I explain. "And you, sir," I continue on, tapping his shoulder with a little too much force, hoping to push him further away from me, "did not answer my question."
"Except I did answer you," he right away replies, brushing my hand that lingered on him off his shoulder. "You asked how we know each other, and I said from school. Which is true. If anyone should take a shot, it's you."
My head reels back at that. Why the fuck would I take a shot? I've already taken three that we can both tell I can't even handle! "Why should I?" I ask aloud, shortening how I really feel.
"Because you asked another question when it was my turn, Lyndon," he says lowly, lightly tugging on my hand that was in his own, something I hadn't even noticed till now.
I look down at our hands, examining the loose grip he has on mine. His thumb moves to brush lightly over my own, almost like a feathery touch, tickling me. I can feel his eyes on me, and I stupidly look up into the dark sea of them. I don't like how intimate it feels.
"Boy, if you don't release me—" I begin, shaking my head rapidly.
I'm cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. Someone's trying to FaceTime me. My stomach drops when I realize who that could be.
My hand is immediately torn from Jalen's grasp, and I inwardly yell at myself for waiting till then to remove it, when I should have done that the second I realized he touched me.
Can you not be a dumb bitch for one night, Lyndon? Damn.
My lips turn into a frown when I see the name on the screen. Li, short for Liam, my boyfriend who would scream if he knew I was alone in a room with someone who clearly gives no fucks about my relationship status.
The frown deepens when I answer and it isn't even Liam on the other side. It's Jess.
What the fuck?
"Um, Jess?" I hesitantly ask. "Why do you have Liam's phone?"
She giggles and shouts, "No, just one more shot!"
Okay, so she's clearly not talking to me. "Hello? Jess? Jessica!"
Jessica looks down at the phone and confusion floods her face. Did she not even mean to call me? Butt-dialing is something the girl has always been known for, and it's gotten her in a lot of trouble before.
I remember one time she was talking with Bea and I about her brother's new girlfriend, and let's just say the words coming out of her mouth weren't too nice. In fact, they weren't even politically correct.
I guess as an Asian-American woman she thought it was okay to make stereotypical remarks, but saying that the girl needed to open her eyes still sounded wrong coming from her, as it would coming from literally anyone else. She felt bad right away.
Even though she was wasted, Drunk Jess was still as caring and sweet as Sober Jess. The difference between them was that Drunk Jess actually got mad, whereas Sober Jess didn't know what anger even felt like. After she said those words, she cried over how horrible she felt. When we all realized his girlfriend had heard on the other line, I was scared Jess would never leave her room.
The point is, Jessica probably butt-dialed me right now. It's something she always does, especially when she's drunk, and it's clear as day to me that she's trashed right now.
I've always adored Drunk Jess, simply because she was more brash. Of course not as much as Bea and I on the regular, but alcohol certainly made the girl more fun. Receiving these calls from her were always entertaining in high school, but there's nothing amusing in this moment. Because all I can think is why the fuck does she have my boyfriend's phone?
If she butt-dialed me, that means she either took Liam's phone or he entrusted it with her. Jess isn't a thief and Liam values his possessions way too much. Neither scenario seems plausible, and yet, here she is with his phone.
"Lyn? Oh my God, it's Lyn everybody!" she shouts after a few minutes of observing my face through the phone.
I don't know who the fuck she's talking too, but it better be Liam amongst that crowd. "Mhm, it's me. Where's Liam?"
"Lee Um?" She pronounces slowly. Then it must click because she smiles and her eyes grow wide right after. "Oh, Liam."
"Yes. That is my boyfriend. The owner of the phone you're holding. Where is he?" I say through my teeth, trying not to get angry.
But I am. I'm fucking angry. It doesn't take much to get me pissed off to be honest, but I'm usually never feeling this way toward Jess. Towards Liam? Oh yeah, he knows how to make me madder than most people in a motherfucking minute. But Jess? I'd only ever get annoyed at her overly kindness and sweetness. Never angry. And the annoyance never lasted too long, because being mean to Jess was like kicking a puppy. You just can't do it.
Right now, though, I could kick ten puppies if this bitch doesn't hand the phone to my man in the next minute.
"Oh, the boyfriend called?" Jalen asks, wiggling his eyebrows. He leans over the armrest of my chair, peering at the phone in my hands and letting his soft, black hair brush against my forehead as he does so. "That doesn't look like a boyfriend. You sure you said the right term earlier?"
His teasing is only succeeding in pissing me off more. "Could you fuck off for, like, two minutes, please?"
He moves back slightly, turning to allow his face to come right in front of mine, leaving our lips barely an inch apart. My breath involuntarily catches in my throat at the barely-there distance. I knew when I first saw him he was handsome, but seeing him this close allows me to know the word handsome barely does him justice. Dare I say it, he's... beautiful.
Then, I scowl. Because how is it fair that someone so annoying be this good looking?
He's honestly got to be the best looking person I've ever seen. I can only think of one other person that completely beats him on the attractive scale, and that's Malia. Their friend David is a close second, though. Except, I wouldn't call him beautiful. He's just hot, and I mean that in the best possible way.
What the fuck is in the water at Arlin Preparatory? And can I please get some!
"Only because you asked so nicely," Jalen teases, slowly pulling away and moving to the other side of the room.
I hear the door open and close in the distance, and I can't fight the frown that comes to my face at the thought of him actually leaving me alone. I wanted space, not solitary confinement.
First of all, I've only been in this room for all of fifteen minutes. Only been in this warehouse for maybe twenty. I'm still lost as fuck, and leaving my directionally challenged self alone is not wise.
That, and—although I still consider him to be really annoying—I didn't mind Jalen's presence all that much. We need to set some ground rules and shit, but he's still proving to be kind of entertaining to be around. Maybe I can re-add him to my potential friends list again.
Seconds later I hear Jalen say, "You look so happy to be here."
Before I can turn around and answer, I hear an unfamiliar male voice saying, "Shut up, Jay."
I relax after that, knowing I'm not alone in here and Jalen didn't leave.
That calming feeling leaves me when Liam's face finally appears on my phone. Guilt courses through me, though I'm sure I really didn't do anything wrong. I'm just trying to make friends with Malia's friends, seeing as that's the best way to adjust to my new life in New York, right?
"Lyn, uh, hey," he says lowly, scratching the back of his head while looking around everywhere but at me.
"Hi," I say flatly, feeling weird for some reason, and still extremely annoyed at this scenario. Why isn't he looking at me?
"I didn't mean to call," he explains, walking away from the crowd, allowing me to hear him more clearly.
"Yeah, I know," I say harshly. "It was Jessica who called. From your phone."
My face remains in a scowl, as I wait for him to stop walking and finally look at me. I want him to see how pissed off about this I am, even though I'm more than sure he can tell by the tone of my voice.
"Lyn," he says with a sigh as he looks toward the screen. "Don't do this."
"Don't reprimand me," I respond quickly, only growing more annoyed that he's putting this on me. I didn't give my phone to some guy. "Why'd she have your phone?"
"Where are you?" Liam's face contorts into a curious one, then into anger when he looks more closely into the camera, probably zoning in on the shelf of liquor behind me.
Damn, I should've moved before answering.
"Don't answer my question with a question," I deflect.
"You're at a party," he states dryly, then laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You're such a liar. You said you were hanging out with your cousin, not going clubbing."
"We are hanging out," I defend myself, even though I shouldn't be. He's the one at fault, not me, and yet, here I am, feeling like I need to defend myself because—technically—I wasn't with Malia, I was with Jalen. Liam wouldn't like that at all.
Jalen and the mystery guy's laugh comes from across the room, and my eyes widen, because that was so horribly timed. "Hanging out with guys?" Liam asks, voice sounding hard as he intently stares at the camera.
Every part of me is regretting agreeing to playing a game with Jalen the longer Liam practically grills me through the phone.
Well, at least he's finally looking at me. I've got his full attention now.