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Jase
I don’t know what it is about her. The first time I saw her, I had to know her name. Since then, I’ve been on a mission to know everything about her. Tobe isn’t forthcoming. He’s protective of her. Overbearing is a better term. He always has his arms around her or touches her whenever other guys think of hitting on her.
It’s frustrating and, quite frankly, irritating. He’s not her boyfriend. I only know because I watch her whenever she’s around. I’ve seen her whenever she’s with him. They are close, but she keeps up a wall. It’s in the way she holds back, how she pushes him away, and how she doesn’t pursue him in response to his constant flirting. Her actions are more telling than her blatant denial whenever anyone asks.
She probably thinks I’ve forgotten how we first met. For a while, I believed it to be a dream, but dreams don’t feel as real as the memory of her kissing me at that party. Drunk or not, I’ll never forget her lips on mine. I’m not sure why it hasn’t been brought up, but talking about it with her seems like it’ll get me a kick to the nuts. Especially after blowing her off when she came over the week after.
“Loren is coming over. Do me a favor and make yourself disappear,” Toby explains, opening the fridge for a Gatorade. Dick. He grabs one of my grape ones, instead of complaining like usual, I ask for more information.
“Yeah? What for?” In reality, the need to beg for information is on the tip of my tongue, barely being restrained. I want to ask if she has mentioned me since the party—make sure I wasn’t dreaming. It was her body against mine, her lips, her moans...
Fuck.
“She always comes over to hang out. One of these times, we’ll make it official.” He waggles his eyebrows and continues to drone on as it hits me that he can’t have her.
The flavor of her is still ingrained into my taste buds.
Peaches.
About fifteen minutes later, she shows up while Toby’s in the shower. When I answer the door, her face is staring at the ground for some reason. Without thinking better of it, I tip her chin softly, regretting it immediately.
“Hey,” I say. Her gaze connects with mine. It’s almost as if she’s annoyed.
“What do you want?” she barks, her little angry voice is almost funny. She glares at me, as if I’ve hurt her somehow. That has my hackles rising with a defense mechanism. Is she mad I didn’t reach out? There are valid reasons for that. Ones I pray she never finds out.
Dropping my hand, I step backward, allowing her inside. “He’s in the shower.”
She nods, brushing past me like I’m inconsequential. What changed? A week ago, she liked me. Is that a teenage chick thing? It’s hard to know when they never stick around long enough for me to notice.
“Wait.” I stop her. Not knowing what to say to her.
“Not interested in excuses, Jason. Get lost.”
My eyes narrow, wondering what could have possibly caused this one-eighty. Instead of pushing, I do the worst thing possible.
“Just wanted to warn you to stay in Tobe’s room,” I respond. The venom in my voice is unnecessary, but for some reason, her being closed-off hit the wrong nerve. She narrows her eyes at me, giving me a sardonic expression.
“Why would I care?” she questions, folding her arms across her chest.
“Didn’t want you to hear the moans from my next lay. Just looking out for you, sweetness.”
Her eyes bulge, her mouth dropping soon after, and I’m stuck here feeling both extremely guilty for lying and proud that she cares enough to look offended. Smirking instead of showing any semblance of care, I wait for her rebuttal. She’s bound to have one.
“Fuck you.”
“Not my type,” I reply, walking toward my room and away from her. Such a fucking liar.
Shaking my head at how badly our last occurrence went, I remember the night she was mine. If only for that moment, that’s what she was. Mine.
I want to tumble those walls down and own every piece of her—limbs, mind, and essence. My desire for her is far more than sexual. It’s her dreams I want to know, what she wants to do when she grows up, what she craves most in the world. I want to know her.
Finally getting some guts, I introduced myself to her. Again. She wasn’t having it, and after accusing her of being jealous of Tobe, she shut me out. There are no regrets there. Anyone could see the jealousy and anger licking her pretty eyes like a kraken to a ship. She’s just in denial, hiding that he means more to her than she allows.
In the moment that I brushed her skin, felt the warmth underneath my fingertips, I knew there was something between us. It isn’t all in my brother’s words anymore. It’s tangible. She’s a sweet peach hiding behind a tangy nectarine bravado, and I want to meet the sweetness in hiding, to know her soft spots and weaknesses, to protect her and challenge her, and most of all, to just be with her.
Earlier in the morning, I asked Tobe to introduce us. After, he texted me, telling me she said no. Can’t deny I was bummed and realized there was no waiting for an invite when I’m in a certain headspace. Honestly, I’m glad I went for it. She’ll be mine one day soon. I know it.
Is she still going to watch me at my game tonight? She said she would if I ate her weird food. Let’s hope she keeps her word.
Either way, that food was bomb, despite its unappetizing appearance.
Lo
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Mom asks as soon as I walk through the kitchen, clearly spotting my scrunched forehead as I make my way to the fridge.
It’s been hours, yet I’m still pissed about Tobe. The fact that he thought he could ruin my day by making out with someone is frustrating. It’s not lost on me that I care too much. The jealousy I feel is unlike any I’ve experienced before. It’s not as if we’re together or I’m holding some kind of crush on him. I’m more worried about the dynamics of our friendship changing.
If he dates someone else, even in revenge, will we still be friends? Will I lose the only person who gets me because he can’t handle me talking to his brother? Will he stay when his new person can’t stand him loving someone other than her?
Boys. I’ll never understand them.
“Loren? Don’t ignore me.”
I can’t help but groan in response to her immediate awareness. My mom, for better terms, is my best friend. Weird, right? It’s not like with Ellie and I. It’s a bond I never saw coming. Who imagines being closer to their parent than any other human? Plus, she’ll love me unconditionally forever. She knows when I’m off, whether it’s that mother’s intuition crap or just how perceptive she is. Either way, she won’t stop badgering until I tell her.
And she’s already starting with her questioning looks.
Today I need mom mode and not friend mode though. When she’s in friend mode, she gives me advice that is too spirited. When she’s in mom mode, she dissects what I need in a more clinical way. Emotional isn’t what is needed. Detachment is. She does that. She goes for whatever I need. Again, it’s her perceptiveness that has made us so close.
“Come on, Loren. Don’t make me pester. I can tell you’re upset.”
The more she asks, the more my chest aches. The more she cares, the more the pain resurfaces. The more she stares at me like that, the more I want to curl up into a ball and hide.
“Mom, I-I just...” I pause, not wanting to talk about boys. Boys. I’ve never been your average teen. Guys of any sort are the last thing on my mind. School. Studies. Books. Those are my priorities—in that particular order—and nothing, not even Toby Hayes, will come between me and my goals.
“Is it a boy?”
With that inquiry, her eyes light up. Mom stands, nearly knocking into me with excitement. She does this little jump, almost like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. Maybe she has, but I’m not sure why. Boys are the least interesting part of life.
She stops, seeing my glare. “Oh my lord! Is it Tobias?”
The squeal that escapes her as she contemplates the non-information given—her own conclusion—irritates me worse than today has.
“He’s so freaking annoying,” I grumble, caving into her antics.
She sits at the table, tapping the chair next to hers, proceeding to place her fist under her chin. “Please, my dear. Tell me more.”
Rolling my eyes dramatically, I scoot out the chair and plop on it unenthusiastically. She’s so attentive, her eyes wide, her smile unwilling to hide.
“Today at lunch, he decided to stick his tongue down some slut’s mouth.”
She immediately pipes in. “Loren Geraldine Tanner, in this house, we don’t slut shame.”
I open my mouth to argue.
Mom stops me. “Women are allowed to kiss men in public. They’re allowed to accept and use their sexuality how they please. And you—of all people—should be accepting of this. Women are meant to lift each other up, support, and love with no fault.”
Again, I open my mouth to speak.
She puts up her hand. “If I’m to teach you anything in life, it’ll be to accept that jealousy or envy and then let it go. Acting upon it, raging out and calling names, or even doing something you’ll regret later aren’t acceptable behaviors.” Mom brushes the hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “My sweet, sweet girl, I love you more than the universe loves living things, but I hope one day when you’re a mom, you’ll understand why I teach these important lessons.”
A tear escapes my eye. She went from friend to mom in two-seconds flat. Her realism and avoidance of idealisms about the world always stun me in the best way. She opens herself, speaking freely in the hopes I don’t feel like a child, and it’s beautiful.
“So...” She nudges my chin, trying to break the bubble of tension. “Why was he kissing another girl, and why are you jealous?” she questions conspiratorially. Her mom mode disappears as soon as it came, and she’s back to the woman wanting the gossip.
“It’s weird,” I mutter.
My confidence is gone. I didn’t mean to slut shame. It’s not that I would’ve cared, but it’s Toby. That’s what made me act out. It was wrong, and Mom’s right.
“Yes?” she prods, rubbing my arm, trying to show me she only got mad to teach, not to belittle me.
“It’s not like normal jealousy. Like, I don’t wish the girl was me. It didn’t make me mad because he’s supposed to be mine or something. The rage came from a shift in us. He’s my best friend. He’s always here for me, Mom. If he gets a girlfriend, that all changes. They’ll hate him spending time with me, and I’ll lose the one person who understands me.”
She nods in understanding, her lips pursed, almost as if she wants to say something but doesn’t know how I’ll take it. Her fingers tap the table. The contemplation in her face is obvious. Mom’s smart. She knows I’m a temperamental teenager who needs guidance, and again, the fact she’s that perceptive only makes me love and appreciate her more.
Standing up, she heads to the island, grabs the brownies she made last night, and sets the entire pan of them on the table. When she doesn’t say anything, I raise an eyebrow. Mom bites her bottom lip then moves her mouth side to side. The silence is awkward and unwelcome.
“Please say something. Even for us, this is weird.”
She scoots the tray of brownies my way. “Eat up, pretty girl. Shit’s about to get real.”
I laugh at her hipster impression, pick a brownie slice, and take the biggest unladylike bite out of it.
While I chew the chocolatey goodness that tastes like euphoria, I stare at my mom. She doesn’t say any more. She watches me, analyzes me, just like I do others. It’s only now that I realize the grays at the hairline of her head. They’re subtle, simply streaks of history and wonder, capitalizing her age. Her eyes, brown like mine, hold so much wisdom and love it makes it hard to breathe. She has always cared for me in a way that makes zero sense. It’s as if I’m the only one who matters. Yeah, there’s Dad and Nate, but when I’m with her, it’s only me.
She finally takes a brownie, eating around all the edges like a psychopath. I watch in half horror and half amusement as she makes a circle out of the square. Goosebumps overtake my flesh, reminding me how much I hate when people do questionable shit.
“Stop.” I over-exaggerate the word, wishing she would leave the room to make weird circle brownies on her own. “I can’t handle it.”
“Okay, okay.” She chuckles, the sound melodic and carefree. We’re so different, her and I, but she gets me. She shoves the rest of it in her mouth, and I don’t know how she doesn’t choke.
“Gross. And you say Nate needs manners. What are you, a Neanderthal?” I joke, making her laugh and cough.
She finishes, wiping her mouth and then staring at me again like a complete weirdo.
“Well?” I push, wondering why she’s gawking at me the way she is.
“I think you’re going to have a challenging love life, my sweet.”
“Why do you say that?” I immediately ask. Not that I have a love life, but Jason did just barge right in like the Kool-Aid man.
“You love so expressively. It’s unique and profound, almost like you feel the entire world’s love and squeeze it into your tiny body. You consume every touch like it’s a drug and give back more than you have. Change will destroy you in a way I’m not prepared for. Your first heartbreak might hurt me more than it hurts you for the sake that you feel so extensively like me.”
Her words make little sense.
They’re full of wisdom but confuse me all the same.
“I-I don’t think I understand,” I muster the words. I gnaw on my inner cheek like it’s my tether to this conversation.
“You will, baby. You will. Just know that when you’re ready, he’ll already be waiting.”
As soon as she says those words, I know she isn’t talking about Toby, but she can’t possibly know about Jase. I’ve never mentioned him.