2 2
The Burden of Our Parents
I storm out of school as soon as the bell rings, upset that this is the first time in weeks Ms. Fairfull didn't dismiss class early.
I barely spare Elijah a second glance, not even bothering to wave back to Daniel as we pass in the halls. There's one goal in my mind, and that's getting the hell out of this school and into the parking lot, where Jalen said he'd be waiting for me.
The wind blows furiously as I walk down the stairs, making my skirt fly around and my arm have to hold it down, serving as the only reminder that it's cold out, despite my blood boiling at the sight of Jalen standing by his motorcycle.
David's standing by Jalen, laughing obnoxiously loud over whatever stupid shit one of them just said. In the distance, I can see Malia strutting towards a black carânot the original car I've seen her drive in. This black car is nothing like the beautiful, red Lamborghini she owns.
This one seems to be driven by a chauffeur, making me have to resist letting out an eye roll at how snobby she is. I can't let myself get distracted.
With every step closer to Jalen, I go over in my head what I'm going to say.
Left foot. Who is Elena? Right foot. Who's Chloe Martinez? Left foot. Why is there always some shady rumor going around about you? Right foot. Is any of it true? How can they not be, Jalen? How can these rumors keep going around and around with no truth at all to them?
I take in a deep breath once I'm a few feet away. Jalen notices me instantly, face lighting up at the sight of me. My stomach drops, wishing I could take the time to enjoy knowing he has that reaction to seeing me.
I shake my head, trying to erase the thought. I notice the eyes of our classmates following my every move, switching back and forth between Jalen and I.
He's just pretending, I shout at myself. How could you for one second think he isn't? This is fake. It's all fake.
I swallow loudly, finding it hard to do that simple move for some reason. My hands jitter at my sides once I'm standing in front of him.
This is fake, I repeat. But if it's all fake, if we're only pretending, why do the rumors bother me so much?
I agreed to pretend. I agreed to this. Jalen didn't commit to me, and I sure as hell didn't commit to him.
But don't I deserve to know what I've gotten myself into? Don't I deserve the truth? Seeing as all these rumors or half truths or whatever the fuck these people want to call them are constantly shoved at me as I walk the halls, I think I deserve answers.
No, I know I deserve answers.
Since Rachel's become one of the last people I should trust with any of this, it seems like the most logical thing to do is go straight to the source.
Just ask Jalen Uccello if they're true.
And even if he lies to me, at least I asked. At least I was honest and open. Whatever happens after is on him.
"Hey," he greets, smiling wider as he reaches out an arm to wrap around my waist. He leans in to lightly kiss my cheek, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away. "How was school?"
I briefly glance at the people still watching, then at David whose eyes are glued to Jalen's arm around me. When he notices my stare, he glances up and sends me a look of disinterest before clapping Jalen on the shoulder and saying, "I'm out. See you later, bro."
Jalen sends him a nod of acknowledgement, before glancing back down to me with that same smile.
He raises a brow in confusion, blue eyes clouding with something similar to annoyance at my silence. This only makes my stomach drop further, realizing this really is all fake to him. That deceiving smile is still present on his face, but his eyesâthose beautiful blue eyesâtell it all. They always have to me. Jalen's never expressed his emotions with his voice, it's all his eyes.
And right now those eyes are telling me he's annoyed with me.
I grimace, annoyed with his lying ass too. Then, I close my eyes and take in another deep breath. One, two, three. I release it. Last thing I need is to accuse him of being a liar before he even gets the chance to lie.
I open my eyes to see Jalen's still watching me. His own soften as he observes me. "Did something happen, Lyndon? Are you alright?" he asks softly, concern etched across his face.
He practically whispers the words, ensuring no one around can hear us.
Was that real? Why take extra caution in being quiet if he's faking?
I silently curse myself for doing this. For putting myself in this position, for agreeing to fake date the boy who I know for a fact I have a crush on. No, scratch that. This isn't even a crush anymore. A crush is when you first like someone, it's the early stages of getting to know them. This, what I feel for Jalen now, is not a crush. It's so far beyond that I can't even put it into words. All I know is I like being around him. It isn't about his looks anymore, or needing a distraction from everything else going on like before. It's about him.
I bite the inside of my cheek, worried now to start a fight. What if he gets mad at my questions and ends this? Doesn't want to be around me anymore?
A sigh falls from my lips the longer he stares at me, quietly waiting to hear what's wrong.
Fuck it, I decide. If he gets mad at me simply wanting to know what's going on, then he can't handle me at all. This is who I am. I need to know what's happening or, clearly, I'll lose my goddamn mind.
"Who isâ" I begin, keeping my voice low enough so no one hears, but loud and firm enough to get the seriousness across. But the rest of my words, and willpower to ask them, get cut off by a voice in the distance.
"I wish London never moved here. She's ruining everything."
"Why did the Prince family even move? London should've just stood away."
"It is weird how they all of a sudden followed her fatherâwhat's his name? Nicholas? Sounds familiar."
"Yeah, Nicholas Prince. He's lived here for a few years now. Alone."
"I wonder why his wife decided to follow him after all these years of being gone."
My eyes widen, mouth hanging openâthe words I meant to ask forgotten.
"None of you have anywhere else to fucking be?" A loud voice barks.
The students instantly jump, fear showing on their faces. It takes me half a second to realize it was Jalen's voice, angrily directed at the kids who had been talking about me.
"Well?" He addresses them again, arm still securely wrapped around me as he sends them a glare I wish to never be on the receiving end of. "Get the fuck out of here."
It doesn't take them any longer to listen, quickly scrambling around the car to open the doors and get in. Several onlookers follow their lead, taking in their king's pissed off face and leaving.
In a matter of seconds, it's just Jalen and I in the parking lot.
"Lyndon..." he begins saying, angry glare gone, replaced with a look of worry. "You can't let what these people say get to you. Especially when they start bringing your family into it."
"I asked myself that same thing," I finally say, keeping my gaze focused on his bike, unable to handle the care present in his eyes. "From the second my mom said we were moving, to my first few weeks here, I wondered why we moved. Why it was so sudden and rash after years of never discussing it. And now everyone here is wondering the same thing, too."
Jalen's warm hand touches my face, gently bringing my head up and locking my eyes with his. "These people don't know what they're talking about. They can't even get your fucking name right."
I take in a shaky breath, feeling my eyes sting, indicating tears are about to come. Damn, I really don't wanna cry in front of Jalen. "Yeah," I say, blinking hard to stop the tears. "It's justâjust, um..." I cut myself off with a groan of annoyance. I back out of his grasp, bringing my hands up to my eyes and pushing them hard. It's no use, a tear slips anyway, and I become annoyed with myself for doing this right now. "I don't wanna talk about it. Can you drop me home?"
Jalen's mouth opens and closes, words seeming to get caught in his throat when he notices a single tear slide down my face. "Lyndon," he says, awkwardly shifting his weight, unsure of what to do. "I don't want you to let what these assholes say affect you like this."
I let out a watery laugh, making a few more tears fall. But they're not for me. They're for my pathetic family. Knox said he heard people talking, so much so that he angrily mentioned it to me. Noah's no doubt gonna hear all of this bullshit, too. It's not fair for them to get wrapped in the rumor mill at this ridiculous high school, all because of me and this stupid attraction I have to Jalen.
I wipe away the stray tears. "Can you just take me home?"
Jalen sighs, watching me for a few more seconds, the intesity of his eyes making me have to look away. "Fuck, fine, okay," he says with another sigh. "Let's go."
Jalen reaches for his helmet, opting to strap it onto my head himself, and I don't complain about itâfor some stupid reason, I like these few seconds someone else is taking care of me. For one brief moment, I can stand there and let someone else do the work while I pull myself together.
The moment ends with Jalen turning to climb onto his bike, with me following right after, and then we're off. We reach my house far too quickly, and as I slowly climb off, using Jalen's tense shoulders to keep my balance, I feel sick being here.
Jalen gets off the bike too, turning to me with a frown, holding his hand out for the helmet. As I place it in his waiting hands, I contemplate asking if he can take me anywhere else, if we can just go wherever. But I know I can't. I won't rest until I get some answers.
"Call me if you want to talk, okay?" He asks after taking the helmet into his hand.
I nod my head. "Yeah, sure."
"That didn't sound at all convincing," he states.
"I wasn't trying to," I joke.
He rolls his eyes, but sends me a small smile anyway. "Call if you want. You can even text. I'll spend the extra minute struggling, just for you."
It's my turn to roll my eyes, but still smile, unable to hide it. "Goodbye, Jalen."
"I'll see you," he replies.
I quickly walk into the house, trying to push away the butterflies he still manages to send through me even when I'm doubting him because of rumors. Instead, I focus on my family, and the things being said about them.
The door slams behind me, successfully gaining the attention of my mother in the kitchen. "Noah?"
"No, it's your third favorite." I walk further into the house, kicking off my flats at the matt by the door and dropping my bag on the couch, before turning to face my mother. "Whatcha' making?"
Mom's eyes narrow at my tone, not used to the friendliness I struggled to add in. "I don't have favorites," she says, choosing to ignore the rest of my words. I scoff at her answer, causing her to slam the ingredients cabinet shut with much more force than needed. "For God's sake, Lyndon. I don't."
"Mhm," I hum in a tone that let's her know I think she's full of crap. "Anyway, what's for dinner, Mommy?"
"Rice and beans, some type of meat, the usual," she answers in a dry tone, still annoyed.
"Yummy," I comment. She sends me a dry look. "What?"
"You hate rice and beans. Matter of fact, you hate everything I cook. What are you even doing home at this time?"
"School lets out at three o'clock, Mom," I state. "Where else would I go?"
"Wherever it is that you usually go, because it sure as hell isn't home. Never at this time," she says while walking to the other side of the kitchen, rummaging through the pots and pans.
I sigh heavily. "You make it so hard."
Mom scoffs in disbelief, letting out a laugh. "What is it that I make hard for you, Lyndon? Because from where I'm standing, I do everything I can to make you comfortable."
Now it's my turn to laugh at the nonsense she's saying. "Are you being serious? Mom, you need to stand in a new spot, because there isn't shit that you do in order to make me comfortable."
"I bend over backwards to make sure you're happy, Lyndon," she argues, saying my name as if it's a fucking curse word.
"I'm not the one you bend over backwards for, Mother," I spit out in the same tone.
Mom grimaces. "That's disgusting, Lyndon. Watch your mouth."
I narrow my eyes in confusion, before gagging in disgust. "Ugh, gross, Mom. That's so not what I meant!"
"Oh," she replies, before letting out a genuine laugh. "My mistake."
I shake my head, but can't stop the laugh tumbling out of me at how she easily turned my words into something dirty. "Now I know where Noah gets it from."
"Certainly not from your prude of a father," she says, still laughing.
And my laughter stops at the mention of him. At the reminder of why things are always so tense between us. The reason why we're here. The fact that I don't have a legitimate answer for why we're here.
"Why did we move?" I ask softly.
Mom looks up from the stove, brown eyes connecting with my almost-white ones, before going back down to the stove and adjusting the flame.
"Mom?" I question, voice growing louder. "What made you decide to follow Dad?"
"Lyndon," she reprimands, keeping her hardening gaze locked on the contents on the stove. "Drop it."
"No," I argue. "I dropped it when we first got here, but I can't let it go. I won't until I get an answer."
"Your entitlement is really something else," she mutters with a shake of her head.
"It's entitlement to want to know why I was shipped to a different state in a matter of days? Out of the blue? Really?" I ask, getting hysterical the more I try to understand her logic.
"Yes," she seethes. "You've been entitled your whole life, so much so that you think you are owed an explanation for my actions. How many times do I have to remind you that I am the parent, not you. Know your place, Lyndon."
I pause, realizing I've struck a nerve. Maybe this is the time to back down, to drop it once again because she's the one getting hysterical. Noah definitely would shut up now, Knox wouldn't have ever taken it this far. But I'm not them, and I'm not quitting. Not when she's angered me just as much as I've angered her.
"Maybe you should know your place, seeing as Dad never even wanted us out here!" I shout, letting the shock on her face egg me on. "I mean, how many times did he even call you while he was gone? Because he wasn't checking in on me or my brothers as often as a parent should've been. Yet you expect usâmeâto move here and be happy to stay in his house? As if this is all okay? Without even knowing why?"
By the end of my rant, I'm absolutely fuming, blood boiling. My fists are clenched, and my heartrate is racing with adrenaline. When I focus on my mom across from me, I see she's my spitting image. For once, I look nothing like my father who everyone's said is more of my twin than Noah, and instead resemble the pissed off woman in front of me.
Mom takes a deep breath in, clearly trying to find an ounce of patience to deal with me.
When she speaks, her voice is low, firm, spiked with an edge I've only ever heard her use when arguing with Dad. "I understand you're hurt," she begins, taking another second to pause and keep her barely surviving composure. "There are some things this family still needs to address and heal from, but none of that will happen if you continue being the disrespectful brat you've become."
"It won't happen because you insist on covering everything up," I quickly answer. "And I'm not hurt. I'm annoyed."
"You're hurt, Lyndon. You've been hurting. And that's okay. What's not okay is speaking to me as if I'm one of your friends. That kind of tone will not be allowed in this house any longer. It's time we all got back to normal."
"I'm not hurt," I insist, shaking my head rapidly. "I couldn't care less about Dad not reaching out. I told you already, I'm mad that we moved and I'm even more mad that you're all pretending that this is normal. I don't know what kind of normal you think we need to get back to, but you and Dad sitting around, holding hands, and calling each other honey is not our normal."
"Maybe it should be," she counters, sending me a hard look filled with anger. "Why are you so intent on tearing this family apart?"
I raise a hand to my chest, utterly confused. "What?" I spit out. "You have to be joking. I'm the one tearing us apart? Your husband did that all on his own, with the help of you, of course!"
She shakes her head, turning to check on the beans before looking at me. "You're the one not accepting the move, Lyndon. This is on you."
My mouth hangs open, not believing her words. "I can't believe you're blaming me," I say, voice low, trying to fight off another set of tears. "I've accepted this bullshit move as much as I could. You're acting like I'm bothering you everyday about it."
"How could you complain about it when you're never home, Lyndon?" She asks with a raised voice. "You think just sleeping in your bed every night is acceptance? No, dear, it's not. Not knowing where you are every afternoon is scary enough, and that fear only grows when I realize you're doing it on purpose. You want me scared and worried. You want me angry, which is why you're late to class all the time, making sure I get that phone call from the school. That is not accepting."
My mouth feels dry as her words sink in. I try my hardest to not be late, seeing as the phone call and reprimanding tone from my teachers is a hassle on me. But not showing up, staying out as late as I can, is that for my own benefitâto get away from this house? Or is that to piss my mom off?
It's both. Fuck. I can't let her win this argument.
"I don't come home because this doesn't feel like a home to me," I confess, blinking away unshed tears at the truth behind my words. "This move was thrown at me, and when I come to you, just wanting to know why it happened after you agreed to let us stay in Florida at least until graduation, I get yelled at. I get blamed."
Mom lets out a light chuckle, making my head snap her way, eyes narrowing as I try figuring out what the fuck was so funny about my honesty.
The one time I'm being truthful, laying my feelings out on the table for her, she laughs. Then she wonders why I lie to her, why I hate being here.
"You've gotten so good at lying and manipulating that I can't even tell if that was the truth," she finally announces. She sends me a small, sympathetic smile. "But that's not entirely your fault."
I perk up, unhappy that she feels she can't believe me, but eager to hear her finally accept blameâeven if it's just some of it, any kind of acknowledgement of her role in this family breaking is all I need.
"You should leave that Uccello boy alone," Mom says firmly.
"What?" I ask incredulously.
"I saw him dropping you home just now," she says, motioning with her hand to the window. "I heard you've been hanging around him, and I assumed he's the person you've been spending all your time away from home with. He's not a good influence on you, Lyndon."
I let out a laugh, and then, when she sends me a serious lookâtrying to get me to understand the importance of her wordsâmy laughter grows louder. And louder and louder, until I'm laughing hysterically, bent forward and clutching my stomach with one hand, unable to calm down after hearing that bullshit she just said.
"Oh shit," I say through my laughs, reaching up a hand to wipe away tears from my eyes. "Did you really just say that?"
"Lyndon, I mean it," she states seriously. "I've heard things about the Uccello family. They don't have the best reputation, and neither does their son. He seems troubled. The whole situation is messy. I don't want you involved in it."
Wow, even more reason to pursue him!
"Okay, Mom," I say through a cheeky smile.
She rolls her eyes at my tone, beginning to cut up lettuce into a bowl as she mutters to herself, "Where's Liam when you need him?"
I'm not sure if she intended for me to hear her or not, but sadly, I do, and my smile drops. "Liam?"
Mom sighs and continues cutting the lettuce, movements getting harsher, meaning she's angry. I guess she didn't mean for me to hear her words.
Oh well. Learn how to say shit only in your head like I do, bitch.
"He was good for you," she finally answers. I scoff, making her seize her cutting and look up at me with a glare. "Don't act as if you weren't happier when you dated him. We said it all the time around the house."
I look away, shaking my head in disbelief. I knew her, and everyone else, liked Liam. But they only liked the fact that he got me out of the house. He was the type to always want to go out and do something, and in order to not start a fight over my laziness as he called it, I agreed. Mom liked him because he got me out of her hair, and by the time I got home, I was too exhausted to start any arguments.
It also helped that Dad wasn't aroundâseeing as he's my trigger.
My fists clench so hard I start to feel pain. When I look down at my hands, I see my nails left marks. That only angers me more. Seeing the sad look on my mother's face only makes that anger rise.
"What happened to him?" She asks sadly.
"He cheated on me!" I shout in anger. "We moved. I left when I didn't fucking want too. And that made Liam think it'd be perfectly fine to mess around with someone else behind my back!"
My mother's face softens at the revelation, ignoring the accusatory tone in my voice. Ignoring the fact that I'm putting the blame on her and the move.
"Lyndon, bebita, I'm so sorry heâ"
"Oh, stop it," I cut her off. I wave my hand in the air dismissively when she moves around the counter to reach me. "Stop."
"Lyndon, I didn'tâ"
"Stop!" I shout over her, so sick of her shit. One second she's blaming me for everything wrong in my life, and the next she wants to hold me, comfort me, be my mom.
She should've done that when her fights with Dad were over and he left in the middle of the night. Instead, she cried in her room, and we comforted her. I never wanted to, I never thought she deserved it, but making sure she was okay was the only way to make sure Knox was okay. He placed his mother above all, he still does, and although he's always been an annoying little shit, Noah and I felt bad for him. Noah would never admit it, but I knew he couldn't sleep knowing Mom was upset either. They both are so soft when it comes to her. I can't stand it.
"What's going on?" Noah asks from the front door. I look over in shock, having not heard the door open. "Mom, Lynnie, what's wrong?"
Noah's eyes move between us, worry etched across his face. He frowns at the scene before him, able to tell we'd just been arguing. My twin's eyes finally settle on me, and when I send him a subtle nod, he sighs and walks toward Mom, dropping his gym bag on the floor.
He reaches an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her back comfortingly. "You okay, Ma?"
She nods, reaching up a hand to wipe away tears. I hadn't even noticed her crying.
I turn to the couch, reaching for my bag and digging through it for my phone. Maybe taking up Jalen's offer to talk on the phone is the best thing to do, rather than staying in this kitchen and continuing this useless argument.
"Where are you going now?" Mom's exasperated voice asks.
I furrow my brows in confusion, but before I can tell her she's wrong, I'm not leaving, Noah's walking over to me with his hands raised up in annoyance.
"Lynnie, c'mon, don't leave," he mutters.
Just as I'm ready, again, to announce that I'm not leaving, they're both just dumb at picking up on clues, I notice Noah's holding his phone in his hand. And he's got a new text message.
The contact name says Cortney Rousso.
Oh hell fucking no!
Noah can't seriously be friends with her... right? That'd be completely fucking insane.
As if Noah notices where my eyes are, he turns the phone toward him. He unlocks it and reads whatever she sent, before letting out a small chuckle and quickly typing something back. The phone is locked and placed in his pocket. He turns to me, sending that same annoyed look, acting as if what just happened was normal.
"Fuck this," I announce. I ignore my mother's scolding about my language in the background, slipping on my flats from earlier and slining my bag over my shoulder. "You're right. I'm leaving."
"Lynnie," Noah sighs from behind me, following my steps to the door. "Can you stop being so fucking dramatic?"
"Fuck off," I turn around and say, flipping him off before storming out the door, down the stairs, and to our car.
I quickly thank my dad in my head for insisting I keep a spare key with me even if Noah insists on driving all the time. Dad, you're a huge asshole, but sometimesâjust sometimesâyou're helpful!
I back out of the driveway and down the road like a fucking maniac, worried Noah will run out the house and drag me out of the car. I'm lucky he just came back from track practice, meaning he must've ran too much and tired himself, otherwise he definitely would've body slammed me before I made it out of the house.
Easing my foot off the breakânot wanting another ticketâI come to a stop at a red light. I use this as an opportunity to pull out my phone and dial Jalen's number.
"Lyndon?" He questions. I give a murmur of yes, like I usually do, coming to the conclusion he asks just to be sure he read the letters right. "Look at that. Decided to take me up on my offer, huh?"
"Actually," I say, tightening my grip on the steering wheel as the light turns green, nerves taking over at what I'm doing. "I decided to push it, just a little bit."
"What does that mean?"
I come to a stop at the sign placed at the corner of his block, learning my lesson the first time. I don't answer Jalen, driving as the call still goes on, falling into a comfortable silence as his question hangs in the air.
Once my car is parked two houses down, just as it was the last time I did this, I begin walking, holding my phone to my ear as I say, "I'm here."
"Here as in... my house?" Jalen questions. My answer comes in the form of me lightly knocking on the glass doors I was directed to stand at before. "How'd you even know I was home?"
I remain silent, wishing he'd hurry and let me in. Leaving before changing is seeming like the dumbest decision in the world. Curse this damn skirt.
The door opens, and I rush in, not sparing Jalen a second glance.
"It's fucking freezing cold out there," I murmur once he closes the door. I wrap my arms around myself to gather some warmth.
Jalen looks to me with an amused smile. "It's probably so cold because you're walking in a damn mini skirt in December, Lyndon."
I half-heartedly shrug my shoulders, still keeping my arms tightly wrapped around myself. "It's not like I chose to wear this."
Jalen's eyes move down my body, landing on my legs before rising up to my arms. "Seems like you chose to wear it here, though," he says with a cheeky smile. I glare at him, resulting in him raising his hands and saying, "Not that I'm complaining. That skirt does you justice."
"No, it doesn't," I counter. "It's so short it barely covers anything. I hate it."
"Then why are you still wearing it?"
"I didn't have time to change! What do you want me to do? Rip it off right here, Jalen?" I ask sarcastically.
I should have been able to predict the smirk that comes to Jalen's face after. When his eyes glance back down and he licks his lips, I'm suddenly not as cold as I was before. "Again, I wouldn't complain."
I roll my eyes, feigning disgust, but really, I'm trying to keep my cool. I take a few steps back, motioning towards the door. "I'd prefer to just step away from the door, rather than, uh, get undressed."
Jalen's eyes follow my every move, before he's stepping closer and wrapping his arms around me in a hug. Butterflies swarm my stomach, warmth completely flooding me inside and out at the feel of his arms, at the knowledge that this is Jalen Uccello holding me.
"Why didn't you have time to change?" He asks into my hair, voice soft and low.
"My mother pissed me off," is all the explanation I give, and judging by the nod I feel Jalen give in response, he knows exactly what I mean. Nothing else needs to be said about that.
It's silent for a few moments as I stay encased in Jalen's comforting arms.
"What would you have done if I wasn't home?" Jalen's voice is still low, hinged with curiosity.
"Um, that thought didn't even cross my mind."
I let out a small laugh that Jalen joins in on, allowing me to feel the vibrations in his chest as he does so. It causes my heartrate to speed, and I have to quickly remind myself that we're fake dating.
"I guess I would've had to ring your front doorbell and ask your parents if I could wait here for you," I joke, continuing to laugh.
But Jalen's laugh doesn't continue. His arms tighten slightly around me, so I pull my head back a little to see him, noticing how tense he looks at the mere mention of me talking to his parents.
"I'm joking. I would've just gone back home," I state.
Jalen's eyes reach mine, small smile coming to his face. "I know. I'm glad I was here, so you didn't have to do that."
I smile widely at his understanding, suddenly overflowed with emotions at just how much he gets it. How one sentence can let him know I need to get away from my house.
"I knew you'd break that rule first, by the way," Jalen says teasingly.
My brows furrow, before I'm realizing he's talking about those rules I said we needed before. I let out another laugh. "How embarrassing. I couldn't even follow my own damn rules."
"It's fine," Jalen says with a shrug. "We both knew I'd break rule number one, anyway."
Before I can let myself fully recall which rule was number one, his lips are touching mine, arms that were once wrapped around my shoulders reaching down to my waist.
Just as I'm ready to kiss back with everything that I have, Jalen's pulling away. He rests his forehead against mine, eyes finding my own as he asks in a deep voice, "Is this okay?"
"Yes," I say, stressing the word. And as if he won't understand just how okay this is, my hands reach for his neck and pull his lips back to mine.
Time escapes me after that, unable to process anything else except his hands reaching under my thighs lifting me up, and the soft mattress my back lands against shortly after.
A small voice in the back of my head is telling me stop, reminding me that everything between us is already so damn complicated, but I don't listen. I push it away, just as Jalen pushes my coat away.
He hovers over me, lips descending down my neck, causing a moan to escape me, before bringing his face back to mine, briefly kissing my lips then moving back. All I see are his blue eyes staring at me for a moment, and in this moment, I wonder how fake all of this really is. I know I like him, and he's got to like me in some kind of way if we're really about to do... this.
Oh my god, are we really gonna do this right now? Am I really lying on Jalen's bed, with his body hovering so closely over me that I feel the heat everywhere?
But when I see the look in his eyes, the lust clearly there, I smile and pull his head closer, connecting our lips again as I make my decision.
Jalen's lips move away again, leaving a trail of feathery kisses along my jaw. His hands slowly inch up my legs and under my skirt, and as he drags his lips up enough to bring them by my ear, he says, "I've been dying to get under this skirt ever since you went tumbling down those bleachers."
I groan, embarrassed at the reminder and at how much more turned on his words just made me. I lightly shove him away, but not hard enough for him to actually move. "Come on. This was going so good till you mentioned that."
Jalen laughs to himself, and the genuinely happy smile that remains on his face after has one of my own forming.
I can't ignore the way my chest tightens when his eyes land on mine and his dimple pops out, or how happy it makes me to just see him looking content and at peace with me.
What exactly does it mean when someone else's happiness brings you your own?
Pressure builds in my chest due to where my new thoughts are taking me. Suddenly, the weight of his hand still resting under my skirt, on my upper thigh, becomes too much.
The realisation of just how deep into all of this I've gotten brings nerves to my stomach. When I focus on the feel of Jalen's body pressed against mine, however, I tell myself it's the good kind of nerves. The kind that bring you excitement, and happiness.
I wish this wasn't fake.
Before I can further think about this new revelation I've just made to myself, all rational thought leaves my mind as Jalen's hand creeps higher, warmth pooling in my stomach at what's about to happen.
"Jalen!"
We freeze at the sound of someone screeching his name, confusion flooding both of our faces at the fact that it clearly wasn't me.
A couple more seconds and it would've been, though.
Jalen practically somersaults away from me, acting as if I'm on fire and he'll burn at a single touch. I pull my skirt down, covering as much of my exposed legs as I can before a loud knock is coming from the door on the opposite side of the room.
"Vincenzo, open this door right now," the same woman from before demands.
Jalen's eyes widen, and if I wasn't currently freaking the fuck out at the realization that some shit almost went down between us but we've been interupted by who I'm assuming is his mother, I'd laugh at how scared shitless Jalen looks right now.
But, again, this is not the time to laugh.
This is the time to panic. So, panic I will.
I leap off the bed, following Jalen's lead of springing into action. Except, rather than standing in the middle of room looking lost as fuck, I dive for my disgarded coat and bag, racing toward the door I entered through earlier.
Before I can make my great escape, the other door opens, and standing in the threshold is the woman I saw standing by Jalen on Cortney's grand staircase the day of his party. She looks just as put together as she did that day. The only difference is she's pissed the fuck off, and is holding a key in her right hand.
Holy shit, she has a key! What the fuck!
"Vincenzo, I am tired of being ignored when I call for you," she reprimands in an authoritative tone.
My gaze slides from her to Jalenâwho's still silent and shookâbefore swinging toward the door, wondering if it's possible to sneak out as she yells at him.
Glancing back toward the pair has me realizing I can't, because the woman's gaze moves to me. An icy glare takes over her features at the sight of me, making my hands sweat and stomach drop, wondering if she somehow knows what was just about to happen under her roof.
"And who is this?" She asks with venom in her tone.
We both look to Jalenâboth expecting him to answer, because I sure as hell cannot.
"Uh," Jalen begins, stuttering as he's clearly struggling to form words.
His mother narrows her eyes, sending him a look of displeasure. "Use your words, Vincenzo."
Her tone is condescending, making my chest tighten once again, this time at what she's implying. Call me crazy, but it sounds a lot like she's hinting that he can't speak because of his dyslexia.
Realizing that Jalen's not speaking upâand that his mom really is a total b wordâI step forward. "My name is Lyndon, m'am," I answer as politely as I can.
"Yes, I'm sure you're a friend whom he snuck in through the backdoor late at night," she says in a monotone voice.
She's implying I'm a fuck buddy, and considering what was going on before she walked in, I might be. But she doesn't need to know that. In fact, she's supposed to think we're dating. She's the reason he feels we need to do this whole charade.
"Actually, I'm his girlfriend," I say while taking another step forward, aware of Jalen's eyes on me now.
Jalen walks until he's standing directly next to me. His mother sends him a look of disbelief, before bringing her judgemental gaze back to me. "You're dating my son?"
"Yes, she is," Jalen says, finally deciding to join the party. I release a shaky breath at him taking over, and I feel myself physically relax when he brings a hand to the small of my back. "I told you I've been seeing someone new."
"You're always seeing someone new," his mother retorts, eyes staying on me the entire time.
I refrain from flinching at her words, unhappy with what's being implied, remembering Elena and Chloe's names from earlier.
"But it's never been serious," Jalen says. His hand gently pulls me closer to him, until I'm pressed against his side. "This," he begins, pausing to glance down at me with a bright smile, "this is real. We've been talking for months, and decided to make it official a few days ago."
His mother nods, narrowing eyes still focused on me. She finally directs her gaze to Jalen, but she says nothing as they engage in some sort of staring contest.
"I'm sure you remember her from the party, Mother," Jalen states, tilting his head to the side with a smirk on his face. His grip around me loosens, shoulders visibly relaxing. It seems like Jalen thinks he's got the upperhand after that comment.
"This is the girl?" Is all his mother asks in a demanding tone.
"Lyndon Prince," Jalen introduces, shit-eating grin taking over his face.
Anger flashes across his mother's face before she's breathing in deeply, regaining her composure as she plasters on the fakest smile I've ever seen. "Stop hiding her from your father and I, then," she says. "We'd both like to meet herâproperly."
Jalen's grip tightens at her words, making my own nerves skyrocket at his apprehension. "Meaning...?"
"Are you busy this weekend, Lyndon?"
My eyes widen, briefly glancing at Jalen before going back to his mother. His fingers dig into my hip during the silence, making me wonder if he's just nervous for my answer or silently trying to coach me. Either way, I have no idea what he wants me to say. So, I decide to be honest. "No. I have no plans."
"Perfect," she announces, sending me a smile that makes my throat tighten. There's nothing friendly or inviting about it. "We'll host a dinner here. That'll allow us to get to know you, Miss... Prince, was it?"
I nod my head, hesitant to say more than a few words to her. "Yes, ma'am. Lyndon Prince."
Her eyes look me up and down one more time before she says, "Very well. I am looking forward to speaking with you, Miss Prince."
"Me too, Mrs. Uccello," I lie through my fucking teeth.
"I'll walk Lyndon out," Jalen announces, gripping my hip harder and lightly shoving me toward the door.
"Hurry back, Vincenzo," his mother directs.
Jalen nods, clenching his jaw and digging his fingers further into my hip. If I wake up with bruises tomorrow I am so kicking his ass!
"What the fuck was that?" I exclaim once we make it out the door.
Jalen removes his hand from me, bringing both to run through his hair. "Fuck," he groans, taking a moment to close his eyes and breathe in deeply.
I remain silent, realizing this has got to be a lot worse for him than it is for me.
"Maybe this isn't so bad," I try reasoning. "We needed them to think we were serious, and now we finally got the ball rolling on that."
Jalen shakes his head, staring down at the floor with a hardened glare. "Finding you in my room like that was not good."
I swallow loudly, thinking back to what his mother said about him always seeing someone new. Does she always find girls in his room?
"Oh," I respond, hating how pathetic the syllable sounds.
It makes Jalen glance up, eyes softening when he understands what's going through my head. He walks closer to me, reaching for my hand. "It's not like that," he says softly. "She was just trying to get a reaction out of you."
She's just trying to get a reaction. Our classmates just spread bullshit around. Seems like everyone's the liar except Jalen, huh?
I stay quiet. Jalen has enough to worry about. This isn't the time to argue about rumors or girls. This is serious. Those brief minutes with his mom shows me just how fucked up his situation is.
"It'll be fine," he states, seeming more like he's trying to convince himself than me. "We'll go to the dinner, make them believe this is real, and then get the fuck out of there."
I nod along, ignoring how my stomach drops at the reminder that this isn't real.
Jalen places a finger under my chin, lightly lifting my head and bringing my eyes to his. "You're still in, right?"
I'm in, Jalen. I'm too damn far in.
"Yes," I nod.
"Good," Jalen says with an exhale. He sends me a smile that has his dimple popping out, making my knees feel a little weak at the beautiful sight. "Then we'll get through this... together."
I nod one more time. We'll get through this together.