1 5
Awkward Apologies
"Ms. Prince, Mr. Uccello! If you can't control yourselves, I will be forced to separate you."
My jaw drops at the sound of Mr. Gonzalez's words. Not only do they sound inappropriate, but they attract the attention of everyone in the class. To top it all off, Mr. Gonzalez has a ghost of a smile on his face.
As if my teacher's un-professionalism and my classmates undying love for gossip isn't annoying enough, I have Jalen and his immaturity to deal with.
Because when I turn my head his way, avoiding the lingering stares from my nosey classmates, the smug smile coming to my teacher's face, and the concerned glance from my twin brother, I'm faced with Jalenâwho's smirking.
"Really?"
We don't need to give these people anymore reason to talk about me, about us.
Not that there is an us! We're friends... that's all we are.
Despite how fun our time in SoHo last week was, and no matter how many times I sat in my room thinking of what could've happened if he'd just leaned in, nothing actually happened. And nothing's happened since.
And I'm fine with that. Totally fine with it.
I have to be, considering everything that's happened with Liam since I moved back to New York. I have to keep reminding myself of this.
Jalen's making it easier to be one hundred percent fine with just being friends, especially when he shrugs his shoulders and keeps smirking.
"No issue at all with what Mr. Gonzalez just implied," I try again.
In the recent week since our hang outâas I've decided to call it after Noah asked what I was doing that nightâJalen and I have talked a lot more.
Over the last week, we've spoken on the phone four times. He doesn't seem big on texting, as he can go days without answering a message, and when he does reply, it's usually short or one-worded.
But as we've spoken more, in and out of school, I've made it very clear to him that I can't stand the rumors. We agreed to not even talk about them, but that didn't stop me from complaining whenever he'd come up to me in the halls and a thousand eyes followed our every move.
So, now that Mr. Gonzalez has just ignited a whole new set of rumors with one sentence, I'd expect Jalen to at least try not looking so entertained by them, especially when our classmates are still eyeing us.
"What?" Jalen asks innocently, raising his hands. "He's not wrong. I do have a problem with self-control."
I roll my eyes, because it seemed easy for him to control himself the three times I thought he'd kiss me.
But instead of looking lame and saying that, I mutter, "I can't stand you."
Jalen laughs, knowing I don't mean it. "Okay, Lyndon."
My attention goes back to the worksheet in front of me. Apparently, laughing with your partner results in the teacher putting you on blast, so to not repeat past mistakes, I ignore Jalen's contagious laughter, and continue working on the sheet.
Jalen's attention goes to the worksheet as well, but rather than doing any work, he's drawing on the sides. I refrain from smacking his pen out of his hands. He may make class feel less like schoolwork and more like just sitting around, enjoying each other's company, but it's not reality. We have an assignment to do, and we were paired together. I won't lie and pretend my stomach didn't swarm with butterflies when Mr. Gonzalez said our names together when announcing partners, but that excitement dies down every second that passes where I do all the work and Jalen does none.
Daniel's paired with Noah, and I know that means he has to do all the work, too. Briefly, I wish we could switch, and leave Noah and Jalen to fend for themselves.
Something tells me that won't go over too well, and it won't be because neither will do the work. In fact, I feel it'd have nothing to do with the grade, and everything to do with the obvious tension between them.
I already knew Noah didn't like Jalen, but I've started getting the impression that the feeling is mutual. When I mention Noahâgranted, it was only once, and about him joining the track team officially on MondayâJalen clenched his jaw, then nodded his head. I asked him what was wrong, and he changed the topic, as if Noah and the team weren't ever mentioned.
I've assumed that reaction was solely because of Noah, because they don't ever look each other's way in health class.
I feel like I could be overthinking it, though. Or stressing over something that doesn't even matter. This won't be the first time Noah doesn't like my friends. He always found Jess annoying. I think part of him is happy she slept with my boyfriend, because it means he never has to see her again.
My head starts to hurt from all of this mess in my mind, and the worksheet asking me to answer questions about the passage above isn't helping.
The reading and questions aren't that hard. It's the fact that there's so many of them, and we were given a partner in order to split the workload, not have one person do it all.
David's sitting two rows down, paired up with some guy I think I remember seeing at one of those parties Malia took me too. And, of course, the kid is doing all the work while David texts on his phone.
Jalen's insane if he thinks I'm letting him get away with doing that to me.
"You plan on answering your half of the questions today or tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
"Jalen, come on," I say with annoyance.
"Where are we going?" He asks with a cheeky smile.
"Jalen," I say as stern as I can.
"Lyndon," he repeats in the same tone, but does nothing to hide his smile.
"Can you at least do the first ten?" I try compromising, knowing the first few are easier than the remaining thirty.
He sighs and turns back to the paper, making me let out a relieved breath. If I knew cutting his workload in half would make him actually do something, I would've offered that ten minutes ago.
Another ten minutes pass as I finish my set of questions, having five left. I see most of the pairs are almost done, and class is almost finished, but I take a deep breath and calm myself down, because I've never not finished an assignment before.
I glance toward Jalen, seeing he's focused on the sheet in front of him. Mr. Gonzalez begins walking around, checking on our progress.
"Let's exchange answers to make it look like we did a lot," I say while pushing my paper towards him. Jalen takes it and starts copying as I look around the room again, watching as Daniel and Noah laugh together, having finished their work. "Are you done yet?"
My nerves start to get the best of me when Mr. Gonzalez says we can hand in our work and leave. I absolutely hate being one of the last ones done. Jalen needs to hurry the fuck up.
"I'm done," he says, sliding my paper back to me.
I motion for him to pass me his, but he doesn't, looking away for a second before glancing over at me again. "Give me the paper."
"I didn't finish," he states.
I refrain from rolling my eyes. "Doesn't matter. Let me just copy what you did."
He hesitates, hand gripping his paper. I grow tired of his delaying, since we're almost one of the last pairs now. I reach for it, and he moves it away last second. Jalen watches my pissed off reaction, and I expect him to laugh, but he remains serious.
After reaching again and seeing he won't budge, I huff, then push his shoulder. He wasn't expecting that, making him release the paper.
"I don't understand why you always have to piss me off," I state in a light tone, though I'm sure he can tell by my facial expression that I'm annoyed.
That annoyance turns into anger when I realize he hasn't done shit.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I shout, drawing the attention of Mr. Gonzalez and the few pairs still in the room. "You didn't do anything?"
I know I sound hysterical, and maybe a bit dramatic, but I can't stop myself from being aggravated at the fact that he insists on making me do it all.
When I look closer at the sheet, I see he didn't even copy all of my answers correctly.
"Is this all joke to you?" I ask, but before he can respond, I'm talking over him. "This is my grade, Jalen. I know this stuff doesn't matter to you, but it does to me... a lot." I glance toward his paper again, noticing the first question is a simple answer from the first sentence of the reading. "Did you even bother to fucking read?"
"I did," he snaps, voice sounding harsh. "It was just..." he trails off, eyes going to the paper before flicking toward the board.
"It was just what, Jalen? Too much work to read one sentence and then answer one question? Oh, the horror!"
He squints his eyes, before rolling his shoulders and losing some of the tension there. "It was hard to read, Lyndon. The words are really small."
"Oh, okay," I nod my head in mock understanding. "So, did you forget your glasses at home, or are you just stupid?"
His shoulders tense again, and his eyes turn into slits. If looks could kill, I'm pretty sure I'd be slaughtered right in this fucking moment. Clearly, I pissed him off.
"Fuck you," he says firmly, grabbing his belongings and walking out of the classroom.
I sit there, shocked, holding our incomplete papers, avoiding Mr. Gonzalez's questioning look as I convince myself this isn't my fault.
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If anything good came out of finally opening up to hanging around Jalenânot caring what people will thinkâit's that I became confident to hang with the rest of the members of this elite group.
Since Tuesday, I've been sitting with Daniel at lunch. It felt odd to be the only girl, since he sits at the end of the football team's table, but knowing the team was there meant Elijah would be there. Plus, the athletes like to stick together, so now that Noah's an official member of the track team, he sits by us, too.
Rachel followed me, making me notice this is a trend with her. Wherever I go, she goes. Not sure how I feel about that.
Today at lunch, however, I'm thankful to have my new tail Rachel and my friend Daniel sitting by me, because Jalen apparently decided to eat inside today. Of course, he and David just had to pass our table.
My appetite leaves when Jalen won't even spare me a glance. The smirk on David's face shows he's pleased by this, and that just upsets me more.
"What's happening there?" Daniel asks with a raised brow.
I fumble for a moment, unsure what to say. Before I can decide how much I want Daniel to know, Rachel decides for me.
"I was wondering the same thing!" She exclaims, then turns to me. "I thought you guys were good after going out."
Daniel splutters, choking on his water.
"Are you okay?" I reach my hand out to rub circles on his back, but he nods his head and moves away.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just went down the wrong pipe," he jokes. "But, um, what? You went out with Jalen?"
"Twice," Rachel adds with a suggestive smile.
"Thank you, Rachel," I say loudly, giving her a stern look before turning toward Daniel. "It was nothing like that."
Daniel's light brown eyes examine me for a second, before he's moving closer, whispering lowly so no one hears. "Just watch yourself, Lyndon. Jalen's..." he pauses, gathering his thoughts, reminding me that Daniel's not the type to bad-mouth anybody. All that does is make me worry more for what he's going to say.
"It was nothing," I reiterate, not really wanting to hear whatever warning he's going to give.
Jalen's not even speaking to me, for fuck's sake! No warnings needed here.
He nods his head slowly, but those concerned eyes don't leave me until Rachel's making another comment.
"I'm just glad I didn't go to that game. I would've ruined everything," she giggles.
"What happened at the game?" Daniel asks.
"Lyndon left with Jalen," she says with a wink.
Daniel makes a shocked face, before covering it up and turning to me. "That's why you didn't come to the game?"
Now it's my turn to be shocked, because he didn't even invite me. He invited Noah.
"How do you know I planned on going?"
Daniel's mouth opens then quickly closes as his eye catches something over my shoulder. I turn in that direction, stomach swarming as I think it's Jalen finally coming to talk to me.
My stomach sinks when I see it's Elijah, talking with a friend as he slowly makes his way to the table.
"Elijah mentioned it to you?" I ask quietly.
Daniel nods, hesitant to say more. But he seems to make up his mind as he slides closer to me and speaks so low that even Rachel can't hear him. "Of course he mentioned it. He thought you were going to show up. I think it... kind of hurt him when you never did, with no explanation as to why."
And that makes my stomach sink further, as the guilt hits me tenfold. But is that true? Elijah said it was all good. He brushed it off, so I did too. Why's Daniel making it seem like it was a bigger deal?
Elijah passes us, reaching over to slap hands with Daniel, before turning towards Rachel and I with a kind smile. "Hey."
"Hey, Elijah!" Rachel greets excitedly.
"Hi," I say lowly, suddenly unsure of how to act around him.
"Something wrong?" He right away asks, making more guilt overcome me since he quickly noticed something was off, yet I couldn't.
As I look at his warm smile and genuinely concerned eyes, I can't help but feel like it didn't upset Elijah as much as Daniel's making it seem.
Elijah and I are friends, and we only ever act like friends around each other.
I have got to stop all of this overthinking. It's gonna drive me fucking insane.
"No, I'm good," I reassure Elijah, sending him a smile in return.
He walks off when his name is called by the guys on the other side of the table, and when he's gone, Daniel's nudging my shoulder with his to get my attention.
"Just so I'm not out of the loop anymore, let's clear up a few things," he starts, looking pointedly at Rachel and I, clearly not liking being left out of girl talk. "You and Jalen went out twice, but you're not messing around?"
"I'd rather say we hung out than went out," I correct. "But yeah, that's pretty much it. Nothing happened. We're just friends. Well, actually, we were friends."
"Why the past tense?" Daniel asks, with Rachel leaning across the table, interested in that answer as well.
I sigh heavily, glancing around the room, eyes landing on a table further away that Jalen is sitting at. What are the chances that that's the one my eyes go to? He's sitting there with David and Malia, and even though there's only three of them there, they somehow manage to look the most intimidating in the room.
The guy David was partnered with walks up to the table, looking panicked and annoyed, but scared to say anything to the three until they acknowledge him.
Why would he look nervous? He's the one who did all the work in class. If anything, David should watch himself before this kid decides to rat him out to Mr. Gonzalez for doing nothing.
But instead, David has the upper hand, as the kid takes David's empty tray to the lunchline and begins waiting on the ridiculously long line.
He's getting his food for him? The fuck?
I shake it off and look back at Daniel, taking a moment to feel grateful that they are nothing alike.
"He's mad at me," I finally answer.
"Jalen's mad at you? Why?" Rachel hurriedly asks.
I shrug my shoulders. "We got into a little disagreement in class the other day."
"Were harsh words exchanged?"
I shrug again, not liking the look on their faces, as if they're right away blaming me.
"We've said worse," I reply, thinking back to our little spat in the hallway weeks ago. Telling him to leave me alone and take a hint seems way worse than what I said in class.
"What actually happened?" Rachel asks, seeming like she's barely able to contain herself.
"Calm down," I tell her, annoyed at her eagerness to know everything Jalen related. "We got paired up together and he did none of the work. He wanted me to do it all, so I got annoyed."
"The health worksheet?" Daniel tries clarifying. When I nod my head, he sighs. "Lyndon, what'd you say to him when he did nothing?"
"I told you, I got annoyed. I just started rambling. I can't remember," I say offhandedly. The truth is, I won't let myself remember the whole thing, hating how harsh Jalen's last words were.
Sure I may have not been nice either, but the look in his eyes and his sharp tone as he practically spit the words fuck you make my stomach drop when I recall them.
"That's all? You got annoyed because he did none of the work, and now you're not talking?"
I sigh heavily. "He's not talking to me. I tried saying hi to him yesterday and he completely ignored me."
A phone goes off, making Rachel curse under her breath and reach for it. "Don't say another word till I'm back!"
She rushes off to answer after, and I'm thankful for that intrusion, because now I can move on from talking about it.
Daniel nudges my arm again, and when I look his way, his soft eyes land on me. "What'd you say to him, Lyndon?"
I jump to my own defense. "I just told him that my grades matter to me, and I asked why he didn't do anything. He gave some stupid excuse about the words being too small, so I asked if he needed glasses or if he's stupid. It's not like I threatened to murder his family for messing up my grade!"
Daniel shakes his head, reaching his hand out to lightly grip my arm. "Threatening to murder his family would probably piss him off less than what you actually said."
My eyes widen. "Maybe the rumors of how fucked up Jalen is are true if he'd rather me threaten his family, than call him stupid."
Daniel lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "Okay, maybe that would piss him off, but he can be... sensitive when it comes to being called stupid."
"Why?" Out of all the things I've heard about him, all the things that boy's been called, stupid is the one that gets to him?
"I don't think I should be the one telling you this," Daniel starts, looking stressed with each word. "But I'm worried you'll just keep calling him stupid now that you know it bothers him, and I can't let you do that."
I stay quiet, eager to hear what he's going to say, and also worried it's something horrific.
How much more horrific can it be after what you've heard? They're calling him a womanizer and you still don't care!
"Jalen's dyslexic. Things like reading are difficult for him, so when someone pokes fun at him for it, he gets pissed."
Instantly, I'm flooded with guilt again, but this time, the weight of it is too damn heavy. What I felt when I thought Elijah was hurt because I missed his game is nothing compared to this.
"Oh my shit," I breathe out.
"Please don't spread that around. No one else knows," Daniel says pleadingly.
"David and Malia...?" I stop, unable to even finish the question because of how sick I'm feeling rethinking over what I said to Jalen.
I called him stupid because he couldn't read, as if it's his fucking fault!
"Of course they know," Daniel replies.
Yeah, of course they do.
But I didn't. How was I supposed to? Clearly Jalen doesn't go around telling people, and his group has kept it to themselves. I haven't heard one rumor about this.
So, again, how was I supposed to know? How could I have known calling him stupid would set him off?
Even though I'm trying to justify myself, that doesn't erase the fact that I may have been too harsh with him, anyway. Now that I think about it, now that I'm removed from the situation and him not doing his half of the work doesn't seem as life threatening as it did in that moment, I'm realizing how serious he looked when he said it was hard to read.
F.M.L., why did I have to be such a bitch?
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I can't stop thinking about what Daniel said at lunch. Revealing Jalen has dyslexia causes a thousand different questions to come to my mind.
Is that why he rarely comes to class? Why people deem him as a bad boy, because it looks like he doesn't care about school, when really, it's just too hard for him?
Even with all these new theories about the rumors that go around, I can't help myself from thinking of one question I want an answer to the most: does Cortney know?
It seems so fucking stupid... um, actually, I shouldn't use that word anymore... but still, it seems so irrational to even wonder the answer to that question, but I can't stop myself from wanting to know. Daniel knows, and he said David and Malia do, too. Makes sense because they're all friends, and it's been made clear to me how close the main three are. But what about Cortney? Where does she fit into all of this?
My leg continuously bounces the more I overthink everything, a nervous habit of mine. But are the nerves for what I'm about to do, or because I skipped class to do so?
Skipping class isn't something I usually do. If I had a dollar for every time I've done it, I'd have two dollarsâincluding this time.
But this seems like the only possible way to find Jalen. When I looked for him in the halls, he wasn't there. And he cut our health class. He's obviously ignoring me.
The next logical thing to do would be to text him, or call, since reading is an issue.
Holy shit, that's why he prefers phone calls over texts?
More questions come to mind, seeing as the first text he ever sent me was a full sentence with no grammar or spelling mistakes. He told me he got my number from Daniel, and asked if I was okay. But did he actually type that message, or was it Daniel who did it for him?
A door on the side of the building opens, making my heart rate skyrocket thinking it's finally Jalen, but instead, I see David and Dedra walking out.
This is the first time I've seen them together, and it's still so weird to think they're actually dating, or, whatever she's calling it. I watch as he holds the door for her, and how they don't link their hands, choosing to walk side by side to his car. I don't miss the kiss they share once they're seated inside, or how David quickly zooms away after.
I erase that sight from my mind and scan the lot for Jalen's motorcycle. I saw it earlier, and I see it now, letting me know he has to still be here. Clearly, he couldn't have left with David, and I see Malia's car parked right next to where David was.
I have to ignore the way my stomach drops when checking for Malia's car. Ignore the way thinking he'd actually leave with her makes me feel.
Cortney's made it very clear she believes Jalen belongs to her, and while that whole interaction and thought still bothers me, I can't deny that thinking he has something going on with Malia bothers me, too.
A small part of me is bothered more by that, and I want to attribute it to their close friendship, not to my younger self who was always so self-conscious when around Maliaâalways so disgustingly jealous of her.
I shake that thought away and focus on the door, practically holding my breath for what feels like hours until it opens again, and Jalen steps out.
I knew he'd cut his last class, too. God, I hope this turns out well and I didn't miss art with Elijah for nothing.
I jump up from my seat seconds later, giving myself no time to chicken out and turn away. I reach for my bag, but the straps get caught around the bleacher I'd been sitting on, making me have to struggle to yank it free.
"Really?" I mutter in annoyance. I yank harder and it comes free, causing a loud sound as the books in my bag bang against the bleachers. I cringe to myself, knowing Jalen had to have heard that, knows I'm here, and has a chance to get away before I reach him.
There goes my plan of sneaking up on him. Damn it.
I glance toward the door, catching the moment where Jalen sees me standing on the bleachers, and turns away, walking faster toward the parking lot.
"Oh come on!" I shout, but I'm sure he can't hear it.
I rush down the bleachers rather than using the stairs, feeling it's the faster way to reach him. This proves to be a mistake since my foot misses the bench by half a fucking inch and, because my hands are hugging my bag to my chest, I can't use them to steady myself.
Therefore, I go free-fucking-falling down the remaining three benches.
And as I fall, I shout in my head, Why the fuck did you have to sit so high up in the first place!
Once I finally land, thankfully, on my ass at the bottom, I open my eyes and let out the world's longest groan. That shit hurt like hell, and I lost Jalen. That definitely gave him enough time to reach his bike and leave.
"Lyndon," I hear my name called out, and I turn that way, seeing Jalen standing right over me. He bends down, lightly reaching for my arms, moving his hands up and down them, checking for any damage, I suppose. "Fuck, did you hit your head? Can you stand?"
I stare at him dumbfounded, shocked and grateful and so happy he actually turned back around. "You didn't leave."
Jalen stops lightly pulling on my arms, having been trying to get me to stand since I hadn't answered his questions. His eyes find mine, easily drowning me in that beautiful shade of blue. "Did you purposely throw yourself down the bleachers so I'd come over here?"
I shake my head, slightly smiling. "No, I didn't care that much about talking to you," I joke, then add seriously, "But you actually came over here, instead of leaving."
Jalen scoffs. "I had to. My luck you'd die and someone who saw would blame me."
I don't respond, unsure if he means it or not. He continues his previous task of getting me to stand, so I let him pull me up. Once he does, he takes a step back, placing his hands on my shoulders and watching me. "How do you feel? Dizzy, in pain...?"
"I'm fine," I say with a smile. I'm actually not fine, because I can feel a bruise already starting to form on my arm from that fall, but with the way Jalen's caring for me and holding me, I at least now know he didn't mean it. He turned around because he was worried. The panic is clear as day in his eyes. "Are you okay?"
Jalen blinks, then drops his hands and takes a step back. "I'm not the one who just skyrocketed down metal bleachers. Are you sure you're not in pain?"
Any pain I should be feeling is gone, replaced with knots in my stomach from the guilt of my words and the nervousness of finally having him in front of me. I skipped class for this, I plotted a way to sneak up on him for this, I wished all day in the halls for this.
And now he's here, and I can apologize for my words, and ask him all of my questions. Yet, I don't know where to begin. I don't know what to say.
This is obviously a sensitive topic for him. And the longer we stand here, with me not answering him, the air gets more tense. Apparently, my fall leaves his mind too, and he remembers why I was rushing like a maniac.
"Well, if you're okay..." he starts saying, beginning to turn away.
"No, wait!" I shout, reaching out for him, ignoring the pain in my knee as I do so.
"Lyndon, I have somewhere to be," he says firmly.
Once he begins walking off, I shout, "Jalen Uccello, I just fell down stairs for you! Don't make me throw myself in front of one of these cars to get your attention!"
He turns toward me, watching as I motion with my hands to the few cars beginning to leave the parking lot, as some students cut class, too.
Jalen sends me a wide-eyed look, before groaning in annoyance and walking closer. "I knew you did it on purpose."
Does he really think I'm crazy enough to throw myself down some stairs to get his attention?
"Can I just get a minute? I'll talk fast," I beg.
"Lyndon," he says with another sigh. "I have to go."
"Jalen, are you being serious?" I ask, watching his eyes soften at the way my voice cracks. "Please, Jalen. I need to talk to you."
He starts walking off again, making my jaw drop and eyes water. I blink hard to push away the tears, embarrassed he could even get that kind of reaction out of me.
When I open my eyes again, Jalen's pausing and looking at me from over his shoulder. "Well? Come on."
The motion of his head shows me he wants me to follow, so I ignore the pain in my knee and do so. I pause when we reach his bike and he's passing me his helmet, urging me to quickly get on once he's done so.
"Jalen, I'm in a skirt."
"Yeah, I know," he says, eyes flashing down to my bare legs.
My cheeks redden, realizing I was wearing said skirt when I fell. And Jalen watched as I fell, meaning... well, he saw something he shouldn't have.
So I practically flashed Jalen and anyone else watching in the parking lot. Awesome!
"I'll go slow," he offers, smirking as my cheeks flush more at the other meaning those words could hold. "It won't fly up... as much."
"Oh my God," I groan in annoyance, but hop on anyway, even though I have no clue where he's going or how I'm going to start this much needed apology.
Jalen does not go slow, seeing as we're stopping in front of a building what feels like only a few minutes later. When I get off so that Jalen can, I notice we're at the same law firm we stopped at the last time I rode this motorcycle.
"I'll be right back," he says, taking a step away.
My hand shoots out to grab his arm, coming in contact with his leather covered bicep. "And then we'll talk?"
He hesitates, eyes lingering on my own for a few seconds, before he nods. Seeing as that's the only confirmation he plans on giving, I let go of him.
My stomach twists in knots as I think over what I'm going to say.
Jalen, sorry about the stupid comment. Didn't know you had dyslexia. How'd I find out you ask? Definitely not from Daniel! Yup, totally guessed that on my own. By the way, why are you visiting a law firm again?
No, wait. I probably shouldn't even question him about being here when I have so many other questions about his dyslexia. Like, was he tested for it? What age did he know he had it? What's he doing to help with it?
I toss his helmet between my sweaty hands to pass the time, and when the door to the law firm finally opens and Jalen steps out, my palms become more clammy, making the helmet slip and fall onto the concrete ground.
Jalen's eyes widen, following the helmet until it collides loudly with the ground.
"Holy shit, I am so sorry!" I say to him, quickly squatting so I can grab it. Once it's in my hands, I examine it, worried there's a scratch or crack.
When I look up, worried for Jalen's reaction because of fucking course there is a huge scratch on the side, I notice he's not even paying attention to the helmet, or me. He's looking at something behind me.
"Um, Jalen?" I call out. He doesn't look at me, so I follow his line of sight, and notice a black car with tinted windows quickly driving off.
Jalen finally looks down when the car is gone, and rather than focusing on the helmet, his eyes go lower. Too low.
"Really?" I say harshly, standing up and pulling the short skirt down as much as I can.
"That's twice now," he says, holding up two fingers while smiling, causing his dimple to appear.
Damn, I haven't seen him smile in days. I didn't even realize how much I missed it.
I'm so happy to see him smiling I'm able to ignore the embarrassment I should feel knowing I've flashed Jalen twice today.
He shakes his head, then reaches for the helmet.
"I'm sorry," I say when his fingers glide over the scratch.
"It can be fixed," he shrugs.
"I didn't mean the scratch," I state, before backtracking. "Well, actually, yes, I am sorry about that. But, um, I'm also sorry about the other day."
"What about the other day?"
I squint my eyes. "About what I said, and how I acted."
"It's no big deal," he says with another shrug. When he sees my confused face, he smiles reassuringly. "That's why you threw yourself down the bleachers?"
"First of all, I did not throw myself. I fell. My knee hurts way too much for that to have been on purpose," I clarify. "And secondly, it did seem like a big deal. We haven't talked in days."
"I didn't realize we had to be in contact everyday," he says, tilting his head to the side.
I sigh heavily, losing my patience and will to apologize with every word that comes out of his mouth. "We don't have to talk everyday, but when you're blatantly ignoring me at school, that makes it pretty clear that something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," he counters, casually leaning against his bike.
"Why can't you just let me apologize?"
"Because I'm not sure what you're apologizing for. Do you even know?"
"For calling you stupid," I state. "And mocking you before that. It was wrong."
He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't think that's what you're sorry about."
"So, now you're telling me how I feel?" I ask, annoyed. "I skipped class and almost died just so I could say sorry. Because I am. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Did you feel sorry before or after you talked to Danny?"
I pause, blanking on what to say next, and taking in how angry he sounds.
But is he mad at me, or is he mad at Daniel?
With the way he practically spat out Daniel's name, I'm going to take a guess and say that's where his anger is directed. If I'm wrong, I'm gonna be so screwed trying to find a way home.
"Why does that matter?" I don't bother denying that I talked with Daniel, assuming he saw me at lunch, just as I had seen him. "I'm here now, trying to apologize."
He lets out a dry laugh. "It matters because if it was after talking with him, that means you feel sorry for me."
My shoulders drop. "I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for saying that. I feel bad."
That wasn't the right thing to say, as I can see the anger forming in his eyes, watching as they somehow get darker. "Okay, so you don't feel sorry for me, you just feel bad for making a joke, and then finding out that the joke is true."
The joke is true? Does Jalen think he's stupid? Because of a disorder he had no choice in having?
"I didn't say I feel bad for you, or sorry for you, or anything like that. Stop putting words in my mouth," I say firmly. "I'm sorry because whether you have dyslexia or not, that doesn't change the fact that what I said was wrong."
I don't miss the way his jaw clenches when the word dyslexia is said, and I don't miss how untrue my words were. I felt bad about what I said because of what he had replied, not because I realized they were too harsh. It took talking to Daniel to make me feel bad, but not once did I feel bad for him, or pity him. Clearly, he doesn't want me too.
Minutes pass where Jalen says nothing. Literally nothing. My nerves start up again, as I wonder if he's still mad.
"Jalen?" I softly question, stepping closer to him. His eyes watch me, before turning to look at the people walking out of the law firm.
"Let's go," he announces, pushing off of his bike and passing me the helmet.
"What... but..." I stammer, struggling to speak. He didn't even acknowledge my apology!
"Now, Lyndon," he says sternly. I'm ready to argue, not liking his tone, but when he motions with his head to the people walking around us, I realize he wants to get away from them. I see one man with a briefcase making his way toward us. Jalen gets on the bike, then turns toward me. "Please just get on."
Confused as all hell, I listen and hop on, ignoring how unresolved everything feels right now. I awkwardly wrap my arms around his waist, not wanting to fall off the bike, but not knowing if I should be touching him right now. I can't even tell who he's mad at. All I know is he'd rather be with me than that man in a suit, seeing as he speeds off the second I secure my arms around him.
Who the fuck was that guy anyway, and why couldn't Jalen just say apology accepted and drive me home?
I'm getting the feeling that maybe one rumor I've heard since being at Arlin Preparatory High School is true: Jalen Uccello is complicated as fuck.
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A / N:
I did not plan on taking this long to update. This chapter was a little harder to write, because it feels like nothing's actually happening, but everything that does get mentioned is very necessary and important for the rest of the story...
I want to have the next chapter up in a few days, but my last day of classes is coming up... meaning all that work I've been procrastinating on doing is finally catching up to me. Hope everyone's enjoying the story, though! Also, super happy about reaching 3k reads!!