1 7
Birthday Bash
I can finally say that I'm starting to feel like I fit in at Arlin Preparatory High School. It's been almost two months since Noah and I started here, and it certainly hasn't been easy, but I'm finally feeling like I belong.
Well, kind of belong.
Sitting with Jalen and his group at lunch has definitely caused more heads to turn my way and more gossip to spread, but it's also given me a place. I felt bad when Daniel and Rachel asked where I had been sitting after a while, but Daniel seemed to understand that sitting at a table with fewer people was more my speed than sitting with him and the entire football team.
Rachel was just excited whenever I mentioned Jalen's name, but she quickly calmed herself and said it was because she's just so happy for me.
Noah, on the other hand, is very unhappy for me. He's made it clear that he hates Jalen. I'm sure I've made it clear to him that I don't care, though.
Jalen and I partner up all the time in health now. I hate admitting how happy I feel knowing he's actually showing up to the class. He still won't say much about his dyslexia, only letting me know he confuses letters and the words become jumbled up in his mind, but it's enough for me to know how to handle school work with him.
We take our time reading through sections. It's mostly me doing the reading though, as Jalen quickly gives up and I don't have the patience to convince him to keep trying and then wait for him to actually be able to read it—we were still getting to know each other, I can't pretend to be somebody with patience forever. That's just false advertising.
But Jalen seems to understand that I'm trying, and so far, that's been enough. For us both.
I can tell he's trying to answer some of my questions, going as far as to explain something before I even ask. Just the other day we were in the halls when Cortney and a few of her cheerleaders passed by. One of them told Jalen they'd see him tonight, and before I could even get the words out, Jalen said, David and I go to as many games as we can to support Danny.
He didn't need to explain, it's not my business what or who he does in his free time. But he did, without me even having to ask.
I'd be lying if I said the crush I have on him didn't grow after that.
It feels like it's growing more and more everyday, and it feels exciting and dangerous. But that's exactly what being around Jalen is like.
The bell for first period rings, making me swear under my breath that I missed homeroom again. Noah drives us to school everyday, and every damn day we're late. He speeds like a maniac another other time, but when trying to get us to school, the boy drives like an old man.
I'm either gonna have to fight him for the keys, or start taking the bus again. I can't keep having the school call Mom and have her yell at me for being late.
Just as I'm slamming my locker shut and taking off, I feel someone grab my arm from behind. Naturally, my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and I'm ready to fuck up whoever just touched me.
My fist freezes mid-air when I turn and see Jalen.
"Easy there, Mayweather. I was just trying to get your attention, since calling your name twice didn't work."
He smirks at the word twice, seeing as it's taken on a new meaning between us. A meaning that never fails to redden my cheeks.
I drop my hands. "Maybe try talking louder? Manhandling me is not the way to go."
"Trying to sucker punch me isn't an appropriate response either, but to each their own."
I shake my head to fight off how amusing he is. "Anything important you had to say? Because if not, I've got a hot date with Physics."
"Don't say that. You'll make me go all Lyndon on this Physics guy," he says with a teasing smile.
I try focusing on the fact that he's using my name as a verb for fighting, rather than what his little joke implied. "Please do it. I've been trying to shake him off for months, but he won't leave me alone."
Jalen tsks. "Months, huh? Gotta admire his persistence."
"Persistence, or harassment?" I ask with a raised brow.
Jalen takes in a deep breath and releases it, loudly. "Please say it's persistence and not harassment."
I can't stop the boisterous laughter from coming out at the look on his face.
I also can't stop the tingles in my stomach from what's once again been implied.
The tardy bell rings, making me realize I'm so fucking late for first period. "Is that all you had to say? Can I go to class now?"
He shakes his head. "Come with me."
When he starts walking off, I don't know what to do.
I glance toward the door down the hall, then back at Jalen. I curse under my breath, then ask, "Where?"
He looks at me from over his shoulder, and grins, letting that beautiful dimple come out to play. "Wherever."
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"Is this your little spot?"
Jalen scoops a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "I guess."
"What do you mean you guess?" I ask with a laugh, dropping my spoon into my half full cup. "You either hang out here a lot, or you don't."
"Oh, that's what you were asking?"
I squint my eyes. "How did I not make that clear?"
Jalen shrugs, finishing off his ice cream. "Little spot just sounded weird as hell. I didn't know if you thought this was my place or something."
"And your answer to that was I guess?" I'm barely able to get the words out through my laughter.
Jalen tries to hide it, but he laughs too, reaching his hand out to push my cup of ice cream further away from me. "Shut up. It seemed like the safest response."
I begin to take my cup back, but Jalen doesn't budge, keeping it just out of reach of my fingers. "Come on, Jalen. Give it to me."
"You want me to give it you?" His sly smile matches the amused glint in his eyes.
"Nah," I say with a smile, knowing what he's implying and totally lying about my answer.
He nods, but slowly pushes the cup back to me. When I reach my hand out to grab it, he slides it further away last minute.
"Really, dude?"
He widens his eyes and brings the cup closer to him. "We're back to that dude shit?"
I nod my head eagerly. "That's actually your name in my contacts."
His face drops. "You're lying."
"I don't lie."
"Okay, now you're really lying."
I gasp. "I am not. Okay, yeah, I do lie, but I'm not right now. Look."
My phone is shoved into his hand before I can realize my mistake. I just asked someone with dyslexia, who's very insecure about it, to read. What in the motherfuck is wrong with me?
"Um, actually, I, uh," I stutter.
I finally look to Jalen, whose focus is on the phone, eyes squinted in concentration. My heart is aching for him struggling to read the simple, four-letter word.
Jalen looks up at me, teeth biting into his bottom lip, out of nervous habit I'm sure.
"Wow. This shit really says Dude."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and join in his contagious laughter, relieved he could read it and actually finds it funny.
"For how long?"
"Since the day we went to SoHo and you said you didn't want to be called dude," I answer, smiling at how great that day was, and how far away it feels now. "So naturally, I had to put that as your name in my phone."
"Naturally," he repeats in a sarcastic yes, of course, that makes so much sense tone.
I giggle again, feeling extremely happy to just be sitting here at ten in the morning, eating ice cream at what's apparently Jalen's little spot. I should be feeling bad that I cut school, but this is only the third time I've ever done it.
I won't let myself ponder over the fact that two out of those three times has been Jalen-related.
He slides the ice cream back to me, our fingers grazing each other's as he does so. Our eyes both land there, and Jalen moves his fingers to comb over mine again. Before anything else can happen, someone clears their throat a few feet away.
"Are you not going to school, Jalen?"
It's Marco speaking, who I've come to learn is Vittorio's son.
Vittorio is a family friend of Jalen's father. They grew up together in Italy, and when Jalen's father came over here and made it big, he bought Vittorio with him, who in turn bought his wife and four kids. He opened up his Italian ice cream shop, and has been happy living a simple life. I can tell Jalen's close with him, from the way he talks fondly of him and how kind he acts whenever they interact.
That's everything Jalen's told me. Anything I know about Marco has come from watching him, and how he and Jalen act around one another the few times we've come here. I've realized they don't seem close, more like they tolerate each other due to Jalen and Vittorio's friendship.
Personally, I think it's just because Marco's harder on Jalen. I've only seen Vittorio three times, but each time, he was kind and catering to Jalen's every need. Marco, on the other hand, looked annoyed when we showed up half an hour ago—during school hours.
But that annoyance only came after Jalen lied his ass off by saying he left school because he wasn't feeling well. At first, Marco looked worried, until he realized the lie didn't make sense.
Why the fuck would Jalen go get ice cream with some girl if he was sick?
Either Jalen's a really bad liar, or he didn't care enough to put in the effort.
I'd love for the answer to be the former, but a voice in my head is telling me that it's definitely the latter.
"Eventually, yeah," Jalen says dismissively, keeping his eyes locked on our hands.
"You need to grow up, Jalen," Marco says sternly.
Jalen laughs and finally grabs my hand. "Bye, Marco."
With that, Jalen rises from his seat, bringing me and our empty cups along with him. He locks his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand once we're away from the ice cream stand and closer to where he parked his bike.
"Sorry about that," he says, but he doesn't really sound too apologetic. More annoyed, than anything.
"That is nothing compared to the shit you'd see with me and my mom," I say with a laugh, hoping to ease some of his tension by moving away from the topic of Marco.
Jalen looks down at me, making me very aware of our height difference. I can't remember the last time I stood by somebody who dwarfed me this much. I'm so used to being the tallest one.
"You don't get along with your mom?"
As someone who's prodded enough into people's lives, I can tell there's genuine curiosity in his tone. "Not really. Sometimes we can be civil."
"And other times...?" Jalen trails off, waiting for me to finish the sentence.
"Other times, it can be a real shitshow," I answer honestly. "I mean, I love her. She's my mom, I kind of have too. But she just... I just... I don't get her. I don't understand why she does certain things, and I've just lived so much of my life being annoyed at decisions she's made that I'm taking it out on her now. Even when she's trying so hard to make things right, I can't let go of the past."
I pause, realizing I might've said a little too much. I feel uncomfortable now that that's out there. I don't even wanna look at Jalen right now.
But then I realize we're still holding hands, our fingers interlocked with one another, as Jalen's thumb moves slowly over mine. Then he squeezes my hand lightly, bringing my attention up and over to him.
"I have that problem, too," he says hesitantly. "Letting go of the past."
A breeze passes by, the only sound between us for a moment. But in this moment, I've never felt like anyone has understood me more.
"It's hard to let go," he adds.
"Yeah, it is," I nod along. "But sometimes it's even harder to hold onto it. I've been arguing with my mom for days now over a stupid birthday party. It'd be easier if I just let go of the past and let her do what she wants."
I'm not sure how true that is, but over these past few days, I've been ready to tell my mom fine and let her bring whoever she wants from Beach Way for my upcoming birthday, just so she'll leave me alone.
Jalen makes a face of realization, before smiling down at me. "Oh yeah, your birthday's coming up."
"Mhm," I hum, before remembering when his is. "And so is yours. The sixteenth, right? One day after mine."
He nods along. Then, I let out a laugh and bring my other hand up to my mouth to cover it.
"I'm older than you," I announce, happy as all hell. "Wow, I am older than you, little boy!"
My laughter continues, knowing it's so immature to find that funny, but I can't help it. I've been in a good mood all morning, and I won't let talk of my mother spoil that.
Jalen's biting into the end of his bottom lip, this time not out of nervousness, but because he's trying to hide his smile or stop his own laughter. Is it lame that I can tell the difference? Probably. Do I care? Nope.
He shakes his head, then squeezes my hand again, this time with a little more force until my laughter stops and he has my attention.
"Actually, I'm older."
The first words ready to leave my mouth are, Jalen, are you fucking stupid? Do you not know which date comes first?
But I refrain from saying that for obvious reasons. Instead, I say, "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?"
He laughs at my question, and probably at my confusion, before he sobers up and says, "I'm turning eighteen. I'm assuming you'll only be turning seventeen?"
I nod my head, but am still confused. "You'll be eighteen? You're a year older?"
Jalen nods, but says nothing, encouraging me to fill in the blanks on my own. But I can't. Is that a New York thing? Do they start school later? Wait, no. I didn't start later when I lived here, and neither did Malia.
When Jalen realizes I'm hopeless in figuring it out, he sighs and says in one breath, "I got left back."
"Oh," I say in understanding. And then, "Oh."
"Yeah," he answers, smiling at my awkward face. What do you say to someone who's just revealed that? Besides the obvious when and why? Actually, that's a good start. Before I can ask, he's already speaking. "It was in second grade. Don't feel bad for me, though," he quickly adds on. "It ended up being a good thing."
"How so?"
"That's when I met David and Danny."
My heart bursts at the cuteness. Even though I can't stand David's rude ass, I know he and Jalen are close. The picture from the Williams' mansion comes to mind, and I begin imagining the three little boys meeting.
I won't say that out loud though. Can't ever associate David and the word cute.
"And," I say encouragingly, lifting our intertwined hands and nudging him lightly. He doesn't take the hint, so I say, "You met me now! Wouldn't have happened if you didn't get left back!"
He looks at me with a somber expression. "Lyndon, that's so insensitive to say."
"Uh, what?"
Jalen cracks a small smile, letting me know he's joking, but he seriously had my heart dropping to my ass for a second there.
"You're not funny, asshole. I really thought you were mad."
Jalen contains his laughter long enough to say, "Excuse you, I may be dumb, but I'm fucking hilarious."
His cackles continue after, but I can't join in. Not after hearing that.
"Jalen, you're not dumb," I say seriously, pulling on his hand a little.
His eyes search mine for a moment, then he laughs once more and says, "I got left back. Pretty sure that makes me dumb. But it's fine, I hated school anyway."
"Seems like you hated school because you struggled, and you struggled because of something that was beyond your control."
"Iyanla, please stop trying to fix my life," he says with an eye roll.
"Was that supposed to be an insult? Because Iyanla is that bitch. I wanna be her." I drop his hand as I speak, because I wanted to snap my fingers and need my left hand in order to do so.
Curse you right hand for being unable to snap.
Jalen waves his hand dismissively at me. "Of course you'd wanna be her. Being up in everyone's business is your thing."
Before I can respond, my phone vibrates with a text. It's from Elijah, warning me that there will be a pop quiz in our AP Calc class. I can't afford to take anymore L's in that class. I need to go.
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Jalen dropped me at the front entrance, but didn't come in, insisting he was still too sick to go to school. Liar.
At least I was able to focus during my quiz knowing my Jalen time for the day already happened. I didn't have to sit wondering what would happen at lunch, since he won't be there.
The only thing is that it leaves me wondering where the fuck to go during my lunch period.
I can't just use Rachel as someone to sit with. She stopped sitting at the football team's table, understandably, and went back to her other friends. I can't run back to Daniel and the team after ditching him with no warning before.
Elijah and I walk into lunch together, as we'd been discussing the quiz from the time we left class until now.
"I just hope I passed," I state. Elijah's been talking about number six and how many possible answers it could have had, meanwhile every choice he threw out was none of what I wrote. I totally failed that shit.
"I'm sure you will," he says reassuringly.
I turn to look at him, light brown eyes shining under the poorly lit cafeteria. He smiles at me, and I almost believe I did pass just because he said it.
But I know I didn't. There's no way in hell I did.
"You're heading online?"
I glance toward the line and then around the cafeteria. "Uh, sure. Are you?"
It's not like I have anywhere to go. Might as well keep talking to Elijah until I figure it out.
He shrugs. "I wanna see what they have first."
"Does it matter? Everything they serve tastes like ass."
He tilts his head to the side, as a wide grin comes to his face. "You say that so surely. As if you personally know what ass tastes like."
I smile, too, and nod my head. "That's because I do. Where do you think I was earlier? Eating ass."
Elijah's laughter comes seconds later, making me laugh, and causing heads on the line to turn our way. I worry for a moment they heard me, and new rumors about Lyndon the—oh wait, sorry—London the Ass Eater will spread around school.
We quiet down once the line starts moving, each moving to look at what's being served.
"I literally cannot wait until Jalen's birthday party! It's going to be so dope!"
My head turns toward the voice without my permission, but I can't stop myself from caring when Jalen's name is involved. I've told myself to not believe rumors, but that doesn't mean I can't just hear them. Especially when these people talk so goddamn loud.
"Yo, for real! A Rousso-Uccello party is always super lit. This one will be no different."
Rousso-Uccello? That's... Cortney and Jalen's surnames being thrown together.
"Are you guys sure it'll be at Rousso's this year? I thought Cortney and Jalen were on the outs?"
"Yes, bitch, I'm sure. I got the invite and everything. Trust me, Cortney said that's still her man and she's still throwing him his party."
Interesting.
"But what about London? I thought Jalen was hitting that."
"I'm sure he is. We all know Jalen likes to have his cake and eat it, too. This ain't nothing new."
My stomach churns. The lunch lady asks what I want, and I tell her as politely as I can that I want nothing. I have no fucking appetite after hearing that bullshit.
Their laughter mixes together in my head, and when they notice I'm standing two feet away, me, London, they quickly shut up and walk off. But that does nothing to ease me.
I knew people talked, and I knew most of it was bullshit. All of it is bullshit.
But what if it's not? What if part of it is true, and Jalen really is... having his cake and eating it?
I'd take that cake and shove it so far up his—
"Lyndon? Are you okay?"
Elijah's hand lightly touches my back, rubbing slow circles until I finally look at him and say, "Um, yeah, all good."
"You don't look all good. You look a little pale," he says with concern.
I laugh, but the sound comes out strained. "That's the white part of me jumping out. Not everyone can be blessed with your genes."
Elijah's ignores my jokes and reaches his hand out to me again. "Want me to take you to the nurse?"
"No, Elijah, I'm fine," I lie.
"Are you sure, Lyndon? I really don't mind. I don't plan on staying in here anyway."
I take in a deep breath, focusing on his warm and kind eyes. "I don't need the nurse, but maybe we can go sit outside?"
He nods right away, reaching for an apple, placing it on a tray, and guiding me outside all in a matter of seconds.
We sit side by side on a bench right by the field, in complete silence, for a moment. I'm sure minutes have passed before either of us speak.
"So, really, are you okay? You're not gonna die on me?"
I laugh, this time the sound coming out just fine. "Nope. No such luck. Maybe next time."
Elijah chuckles, then hands me the tray and apple. "You should eat something. Just to be sure."
He shrugs nonchalantly, and because he's not making me feel pressured at all, I listen and bite into the apple.
Elijah smiles, then moves toward the field.
"What are you doing?"
"Practicing," he announces, reaching for his sweater vest and pulling it over his head. His hair moves every which way, making me laugh, and him look at me with confused eyes.
I stand and move toward him, using my free hand to reach toward his hair. He shoots me a questioning look, so I say, "You just helped me when I looked like shit. So, let me help you."
"One, I didn't say you looked like shit. And two, I'd bet my life that I don't look like shit right now," he says, holding up a finger as he speaks.
"You implied that I looked bad, which basically meant I looked like shit," I say with a laugh. Then, I take a quick step back and do a sweep of his face with my eyes. "And trust me, you look like shit."
I'm totally lying, he doesn't look bad at all, but his offended face—fake or not, I don't know—is hilarious. I reach up and pat down his hair, letting a few of the sandy brown strands fall into his eyes.
"Mucho better," I announce, taking a step back and biting into my apple.
"That didn't make sense, but okay," he laughs, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
"Um, what are you doing, now?"
He looks at me like I'm the one who's about to strip. "I can't practice in my dress shirt."
"Elijah!" I shout with a laugh, bringing my hand to cover my eyes as he continues undoing the buttons.
"I have a shirt underneath, Lyndon." When I look back over at him, I see he's telling the truth, as there's an extremely tight, white v-neck on him. I can't tell if the shirt is tight because its too small or his muscles are just that... big. "You looked like you were about to pass out if I did go shirtless. Definitely not something I'd expect from someone who eats ass."
I grab the sweater vest he tossed onto the bench and throw it at him, but he of course easily catches it seeing as that's his fucking job on the field.
We both laugh, and I ignore the people scattered around the field watching, and how my stomach is still churning at the thought of the party Cortney's apparently throwing for Jalen.
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Saturdays have always been my favorite day of the week. It started out rough when we first moved back to New York, but Mom hasn't woken me up again after that. I guess one thing will always stay consistent, no matter what state we live in or what speaking terms we're on: everyone leaves me alone on Saturdays.
An aggressive buzzing sound comes from the opposite side of my bed.
I guess everyone except whoever the fuck is calling leaves me alone on Saturdays.
I lay, facing the ceiling, wondering if I should even bother answering, but then I remember that Noah has track practice in the mornings, and I'd never forgive myself if he called with an emergency and I didn't answer.
Quickly turning over, I blindly feel for the phone until I grab it and bring it to my face. It's Malia.
Why the fuck would Malia be calling me?
"Hello?" I say in complete confusion.
"Hi, Lyndon," she answers casually, as if this phone call isn't random as fuck.
"Why'd you call?"
"I can't call my cousin?"
"Not if you ignore her in school all the time," I say, then bring my hand over my mouth, not really wanting to tell her that.
I hear her sigh on the other line and murmur my name sadly.
"Yes?" I quickly answer, thinking that maybe this is it, she'll tell me why she's been acting this way in school, why she cut me off once I moved, and we'll go back to being close.
But instead she says, "What are you doing tonight?"
Not what I was expecting, but maybe it's a start?
"Nothing, why?"
"Cortney's throwing a birthday party for Jalen. You can be my plus one."
So the rumors are true, and Malia all of a sudden wants to associate with me and actually bring me to that shit?
"Hard pass," I say into the phone, much more roughly than I should have, but oh well.
"Lyndon," Malia says in that signature voice she's always used when she wants something. Her voice gets higher, only enough for it to not sound like a whiny squeal, and she says your name as if you're the most important person in the world. As if doing this one thing will cement you as the greatest thing in life. "You should come with me."
I know her tricks. She's done them on me, I've watched her do it on countless others, and I've tried mimicking them for years.
"It'll be a good time, and you'll get to hang out with your friends. Dedra and Danny are going."
I shut my eyes and sigh. "But what about Cortney?"
I can't believe I'm even considering this. Malia must be some sort of fucking witch.
"She's the reason you should go, Lyndon."
"Why? Why would I go if it'll just piss her off? Or will it not? Does she not care? What's going on, Malia? Are they dating?"
I can barely catch my breath, rapidly spitting out each question I've been dying to ask Malia.
"No, they're not. They're parents want them, too, but they're not. That's why you should come."
It's an arranged... dating situation? An eventual marriage? Huh? This is some rich people shit.
"Malia, are you sure?"
I'm not even sure what I'm asking.
If she's sure I should go, that they're not really dating?
"Yes, Lyndon. I'll bring you a dress, we'll get ready together, and show up together."
I know she must have her own motives, and I should know better than to get involved in Malia's shit after years of dealing with her before, but all rational thought seems to leave me whenever Jalen's involved.
"Fuck. Okay, okay. What time?"
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"My armpits are sweating so bad."
Malia makes a disgusted face—still manages to look gorgeous as fuck, though—and begins fanning me with her purse as best as she can.
"You have got to relax, Lyndon. It is not that serious."
I roll my eyes, but allow her to fan me. "I still don't get why you wanted me to go with you."
She doesn't reply as the car comes to a stop. Malia arrived at my house almost three hours ago with dresses and directions for me to follow. An hour after, I was showered and shaved and ready for her to work her magic. She didn't do much, to be honest. She curled my hair as best as she could, picked a dress she said would look great because of your flat figure as if that was a compliment, and added a bit of makeup around my eyes to make them pop.
At the end, she looked better than me. She always has, I'm convinced she always will, but she did do a pretty damn good job on me anyway.
I thanked her, she ignored it, and we went into the car she ordered for us. Once we got in, I realized her step father's company owns this car. I refrained from rolling my eyes at that, feeling she did me a solid, so I needed to stop myself from talking shit about her for at least the twenty minute ride to Cortney's house.
Oh, sorry, I mean Cortney's fucking mansion.
We exit the car, and I almost trip, either from shock at how big this palace is or because of these too-high heels my mom bought me months ago. I never wore them, but Malia insisted they'd make my legs look longer.
As if I need them to look any longer than they already do.
Malia holds her arm out expectantly.
"What?" I finally ask.
She sends me an annoyed look, before reaching out and linking my arm through hers.
"Wow, I can feel how warm your pits are," she says with a laugh.
"Bitch, shut up," I say back, laughing along with her at how ridiculous this all is.
Malia shows her invitation at the front door, and we're walking in seconds later. My heart is like a jackhammer against my chest. I feel like throwing up.
This feeling intensifies when Malia stops moving halfway into the foyer, waving her free hand at something out of view with a wicked grin on her face.
Please don't be Cortney. I can't deal with that right now.
Instead, I turn and see it's Jalen, who looks as if he's just seen a damn ghost.
F.M.L., I would've rather seen Cortney if I knew he would react like this.
That thought leaves my mind when Cortney appears around the same corner Jalen just did. Rather than looking shocked, she looks as if she would murder both me and Malia with her bare fucking hands if she could.
She visibly takes a deep breath in and out, then sends a dashing smile our way. She does a complete one-eighty. Two older people round the corner right after, a male and female, who each place a hand on Cortney's shoulders.
Must be her parents. Hm.
Before I can either run out of here or beg Malia to not drag me their way, I feel a warm hand pressing against my back, and without having to turn toward that person, I can already feel the discomfort they're causing me.
"Malia, what in the world are you doing?" David murmurs over me.
Malia turns her smile his way, letting it morph into an innocent look as she reaches her own hand around me, placing it over the one David has on my back. "Whatever are you talking about, David?"
David clicks his tongue, and looks me over once before nodding his head Malia's way. "This isn't the time to mess with her."
Malia flips her hair over her shoulder with her free hand and does a one-shoulder shrug. "Good thing I don't care."
She leans in to press a light kiss to my cheek, does the same to David, and takes a step back. "I have some business to attend to. Meet me back here in an hour?"
"Are you serious?" I ask, feeling sick all over again at the idea of her leaving me.
"Be nice," Malia demands, pointing a finger, but I'm not sure if the warning is for David, me, or both of us.
As her heels click away, I feel David's hand still on my back. "Can you not?"
"Be nice to me, Boulevard. I'm kind of your only hope right now."
I'd rather die than rely on this jackass, I scream in my head, but don't dare say out loud. Because, honestly, I don't want to be alone.
Not when Jalen is standing ten feet away with Cortney and her fucking parents.
David follows my eyes toward the two pairs, and looks back to me with a laugh. He takes a quick sip from his glass of—what I'm assuming is—champagne, and says with pure amusement, "Oh man, this is a dangerous game, but I love it."
I shoot him a questioning look, but he simply shakes his head at me with a smile, as if there's some inside joke going on that I'm not aware of.
And that's exactly what I feel like is going on.
"What?" I ask David as non-rudely as I can.
He continues smiling, shaking his head, and pushing me further into the house with that same hand on the small of my back.
"It's gonna be a long night, Boulevard. Try enjoying yourself," David says, tilting his glass my way as an offering.
I glance at Jalen from over my shoulder, and when I see him laughing with Cortney and her parents, I turn back to David and rip that glass out of his hand.
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A / N:
I'm so excited for where this story is heading. Next chapter will be up tomorrow night!