Chapter 17: 13 | Confrontations

1 3

Confrontations

Jalen finally finishes kissing and greeting every Italian man in sight, and orders us each a cup of ice cream, or spumone, as he and the other two men call it.

After introducing them to me as Zio Vittorio, for the older man, and Marco, for the younger one, he hands me my ice cream and gently guides us to a picnic table nearby, while chills form on my arms—something I'd like to attribute to the breeze beginning to blow by and not to Jalen's warm hand lightly pressing against my lower back.

"Were you talking shit about me?" I question as soon as I sit down, making Jalen briefly halt his movements.

After a few seconds, he moves again, swinging his other leg over the bench, sitting down directly in front of me. "Why would you ask that?"

"Usually, when someone switches to a language they know I can't understand, it's to talk shit," I explain, thinking back to all of the times my mother has bad-mouthed me to her side of the family in Spanish, before taking another spoonful of ice cream.

His eyes narrow, following the spoon to my lips and watching as I eat. I become self-conscious, as if I'm somehow eating it wrong. When his gaze stays focused on my mouth long after I've already eaten the spoonful, I start to get the impression that maybe, just maybe, he's staring for another reason.

Another reason that has my stomach swarming, something I'd—once again—like to attribute to the ice cream not settling in right, and not because the thought of Jalen staring at me like that for that reason excites me.

I just got out a relationship a few days ago, for fuck's sake. I can't already think of some other guy in that way. That's too soon, too damn soon... right?

When his eyes finally look away from my lips, and come into contact with mine, I almost want to punch myself for wishing he'd reach across the table and do something, anything. Because with the way the sun is shining onto his blue eyes, and with the new look within them, I just can't take it. He's too good fucking looking.

"So, you like Star Wars?" I blurt out, desperate to shift the conversation somewhere else, not even bothering to point out how he ignored answering my original question. "I really didn't expect that from you."

"I am full of surprises," he says, shrugging a shoulder casually, but his response is anything but casual, because unless my hearing has suddenly become impaired, his voice is deeper as he says the words.

I turn away, deciding to observe the crowds around us as I finish my ice cream. But I can still feel him staring, and I can certainly feel his friend Marco eyeing us from a few feet away.

Facing Jalen again, I notice he's now watching the crowds too, but he's not nearly as on edge as I am. He seems relaxed, more so than I've seen him in the last two weeks I've known him. Even at school or parties, hanging around David, he's never looked this calm.

"You come here often?"

Jalen's head snaps my way, lips curling up into the cutest smile I've ever seen. His dimple pops out, but quickly disappears when Jalen bites his bottom lip, attempting to keep the smile off his face, as he cheekily asks, "Lyndon, are you flirting with me?"

Rethinking over my words, I immediately feel my face growing hot, and I'm praying my cheeks aren't red with embarrassment. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Mhm," Jalen hums, before finishing off his ice cream and tossing the spoon into the cup. "Sure you didn't. It seems I've given you the wrong impression by bringing you here."

I know he's joking, the smile on his face gives away that much, but I can't help having a tug of war with myself in my mind—one side of me wishing he did bring me here for that reason, and the other side wishing he truly didn't mean that, making it easier to establish boundaries between us.

Liam may have hurt me more than anyone else by cheating, but that doesn't erase the time we spent together, or the feelings that were undoubtedly there, and sadly, still there. I loved him, or at least thought I did, that feeling doesn't just go away overnight. Hopping into another... whatever... so quickly would be wrong.

Either way, I won't say any of that shit out loud. If Jalen just wants to eat ice cream and joke around, then that's completely fine with me. That's all I need right now, anyway.

I bring a hand over my heart, faking offense. "Wow, and here I thought this was really gonna go somewhere. I met the family and everything."

Jalen's face darkens as I speak, even the stupid giggle I let out after does nothing to ease the scowl taking over his features. "What?"

Dropping my own spoon into the cup, I freeze, wondering what went wrong. "Your uncle? Vittorio?" I motion with my head to the stand he's sitting by, feeling stupider by the second, and not liking it one bit. "Zio means uncle in Italian, right?"

I know it does, or at least, I could've sworn it did. I know Tio is uncle in Spanish, seeing as for the brief moments where Malia's father was actually present, we referred to him as Tio Abdul, and even after he left, we still called him that. He's still known in the Prince home as our uncle, even after Titi Talia remarried, seeing as we were never around to get to know or, hell, meet Kendrick Carrington.

I don't want to be ignorant, and think Italian and Spanish are almost the same language, because I know they aren't, but isn't there some similarities? Like, the name referring to your uncle?

As Jalen's features soften, and his shoulders visibly relax, I realize that I didn't make a mistake. He misunderstood.

"Yeah, it does," he confirms, speaking lowly. "But Vittorio isn't my uncle, we're not blood related. I've known him since I was younger, so I say it out of respect."

I nod my head along, understanding the whole respect thing. I'm sure my mom had us still call Malia's dad our uncle out of respect, though I know hearing us acknowledge him as family angered Malia and her mother a fucking lot.

He says nothing after, making me want to reach my hands out and shake his shoulders for not explaining what just ticked him off.

"So, what was with that reaction, then?" I ask instead, opting to not touch him.

He shuts me out again, I feel it. His forearms that were once leaning on the table between us are by his sides, angling his body in another direction. His body language screams to leave it alone, but it's sadly not in my nature to do so.

"Um, hello?" I try again, laughing a little, hoping to ease the tension and help him feel more comfortable sharing.

That doesn't work, as Jalen rises from his seat, motioning to my ice cream as he asks, "Are you almost done?"

Being shut down is the fucking worst, and that's clearly what Jalen's doing right now. Shutting me down, blocking me off. It's annoying. Because of that, I say, "No, I'm not."

I actually am. I have about two spoonfuls left, but I plan on taking my sweet ass time if that means staying here longer and talking.

Once again, my tactics don't work. Jalen realizes what I'm doing, announcing, "I'll be over there with my uncle," with a smirk on his face, before walking toward the stand.

"What a prick," I say to myself once he's gone.

But I can't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder at him shortly after, briefly catching his eye and the same smirk he throws at me while mid-conversation with his uncle, still unable to deny how attractive he is, no matter how fucking annoying he's being.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Jalen's motorcycle comes to a halt by the curb of my house. I think for a moment that I should have had him drop me a few houses down, then realize I don't feel like walking that much and, oh yeah, I don't give a fuck how my parents will feel that I'm getting dropped off by a guy an hour after I said I'd be home.

I hand Jalen the helmet once I get up, unsure of what else to say right now besides, "Thanks."

The confused look on his face has me cringing internally at the awkwardness, but he quickly fixes that by laughing and standing up as well. "Was I supposed to leave you there and let you find your own way home?"

I laugh along with him. "No, I meant thanks for today. I went out thinking I'd have to force myself to sit through a boring football game, but you fixed that. So, again, thanks."

My eyes find his, and since he doesn't respond, we're left standing there. Left staring into those deep blue eyes. I lower my eyes from his, not wanting to get lost in the way they're slowly turning into an ocean, making it all the more easier to drown in them. I quickly realize how dumb it is to look ahead instead of up, because his pink lips catch my attention. I know he notices because he smiles, and I hate how I've already grown so accustomed to his face that I know where his dimple is before it even has the chance to lightly appear.

"It was no problem, Lyndon," he finally responds, whispering my name, making it feel so much more intimate than just a simple given name.

My attention goes up again, and it seems like he's ready to say something else, but I blurt out, "Goodnight."

He blinks, lets out a light chuckle, then says, "Okay, goodnight."

"Goodnight," I repeat, cringing to myself once again as I quickly turn around and head for the front door.

I don't hear his motorcycle take off until I'm safely in the house, and I have to take a moment to breathe and lean against the closed door to stop myself from fawning over the fact that he had the decency, and common sense, to wait.

My moment of being in that butterfly-feeling haze evaporates when the light down the hall flickers on, with my annoying brothers barreling around the corner seconds later.

"Oh, hello, Lyndon. Glad to see you've made it home alive," Noah announces, making me roll my eyes at the fact that he used my full name and made it sound so dirty with the way he spits out—nothing like the lovely way Jalen just said it.

Okay, stop. Get a fucking grip, Lyndon.

"Fuck off," I respond, flipping them the bird as I pass by.

"Where were you?" Knox asks, blocking my path. "Noah said you were with some guy. What happened to Liam?"

Eyes widening, I look at my baby brother before directing my hardening gaze over to my twin. "You told him I was with some guy, but neglected to tell him about Liam?"

Noah looks panicked for a second, before sputtering out, "Um, yeah?"

I roll my eyes so hard I see spots, especially when Knox says dryly, "Don't tell me you're already cheating on him."

My hands twitch at my side, quickly forming into fists after, ready to deck this motherfucker for even thinking that.

"Woah," I hear Noah shout in the distance, making his way over and stepping between us. "Go to bed, Knox."

Knox looks ready to say something else, but Noah shoves him further down the hall, saying a firm, "Now."

When Knox takes the hint that something else is wrong, he listens and disappears, leaving just Noah and I. I push around him to make it to my room, trying to slam the door shut, but Noah knows what I'm about do and blocks it with his foot.

"Leave me alone, Noah," I demand angrily, not in the mood for this right now.

I can't believe these two asscracks just ruined this night for me in a matter of fucking minutes.

"Just listen for a second, damn," Noah says, exasperated. I give up and move away from the door, opting to fling myself onto my bed as Noah cautiously walks in, clearly thinking I'll change my mind any second, and spring up to smack him. "I was worried, okay?"

"Why?" I mumble into the pillow I clutch against my chest, remembering all over again that Liam and I's relationship was destroyed by cheating like Knox was thinking.

The reminder feels like pouring salt in the wound, making me realize just how fresh that wound is.

Noah scoffs, then looks at me with you've gotta be fucking kidding me eyes. "You left with Jalen Uccello. How could I not be worried, Lynnie?"

I lift my head from the bed, still confused. "Exactly. I left with Jalen, not someone from the FBI's most wanted."

"Do you seriously not hear any of the rumors that go around about that guy?"

I flop back onto the bed, deciding Noah has nothing important to say if that's where this conversation is heading. "Get out of my room. I don't care."

He lets out a dry laugh. "That means you haven't. Because you'd care if you did."

I hate the concerned look in his eyes, the way he says the words, because for the briefest moment it has my stomach dropping from worry.

Noah's never this serious about anything... what could possibly be going around?

"Tell me," I lightly demand, acting as uninterested as I can, though deep down, I can't deny that part of me thinks there's some truth to his words.

Noah sighs heavily, before taking a seat at the edge of my bed. "He doesn't have a good reputation with the girls at Arlin," he begins, and though I should be taking this seriously due to how concerned my twin looks, I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes at him referring to the school as Arlin. He's adopted the slang here too quickly. "The guys on the team talk about—"

"Pause," I interrupt, raising my hand in the air. "You expect me to believe what your track team friends say?"

I laugh at that, seeing as they were the ones ogling me like they're never seen a female before, making me feel uncomfortable as hell earlier, not Jalen.

"It's believable when they're all saying it, Lynnie," he says, determined to get me to listen. "And who even cares if it's true? I've been there for a week, hanging around them for less than that, and I've heard countless stories of Jalen and his side pieces. Imagine what'll be said about you, especially after people saw you leaving with him."

"Oh, I see." I nod my head, sitting up. "I'm supposed to live my life worried that people will talk about me, because that's definitely not been happening all week, any fucking way."

Noah groans in annoyance at the sarcastic reply, rising from my bed after saying, "All I'm trying to do is warn you. You don't wanna listen to me? Fine. That's your mess to deal with, then."

He walks out the door, not even giving me a chance to respond. That boy loves dramatic exits.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Monday morning means starting the week all over again. As I gather my books at my locker, quickly trying to find the right ones while glancing at the clock every now and then, not wanting another phone call home, I can feel stares.

I slowly turn, glancing around the hallway, and every time I meet the gaze of one of the people watching me, they turn away. A smile comes to my face, as I become okay with the idea that even if Noah was right, even if people will stare and talk about me, as long as they don't say shit to my face, I don't care.

Just as I shove my book bag into my locker, having the books I need for my first few classes in my arms already, I hear the clicking of heels behind me. I ignore the sound, since Malia's the only person I know that actually wears heels to school, and we haven't socialized much these past few days.

"Lyndon Prince," a low, feminine voice states.

I turn at the sound of my name, confused on who would even call out my full name like that, and wondering who would even address me like this. The voice isn't questioning at all, it simply stated my name. And it said it like my name meant nothing.

A girl with light brown hair and a slender figure stands a few feet away, alone, watching me with crossed arms. Clearly, she's the one who said my name.

I raise an eyebrow in her direction, expecting her to say more, since she apparently wants my attention.

Her gaze looks me over, head to toe, and once she finally brings her eyes to mine, I can feel her disapproval.

I can also feel everyone's eyes in the hallway zone in on us, and it's a completely different feeling than when they're just looking at me. They're not being subtle at all. The few times I was by Malia or Jalen, I could tell they were at least trying to be, but right now, no one gives a shit about being caught watching.

They're too enthralled with what they think is going to happen. I feel my palms begin to sweat wondering what the fuck these people are expecting.

"Well," I state, maintaining eye contact, trying to come off unfazed, but wanting to get this over with before the bell rings.

To my surprise, she smiles, but that grin doesn't reach her eyes. There's a teasing glint, and after she lets out a pitiful laugh, she speaks again. "So you are Lyndon Prince?"

Even though she's asking, I can tell she knows exactly who I am. It's clear by the way she still holds that fake smile, and gives me another looking over, before once again letting out a laugh and shaking her head.

"Yup," I say firmly, figuring confirming what she already knows might finally move this conversation along. "You wanna tell me your name or...?"

"Something tells me you can figure that one out on your own," she says with a wink.

"Nope, I'm not really one to pay attention to other people," I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

She drops her smile for a moment, tilts her head to the side, and sarcastically asks, "Aw, you aren't?"

The way she asks it has my stomach dropping, beginning to get an inkling as to who this girl might be.

"What do you want?" I ask with a sigh, distracting myself by balancing my books on each hip, before deciding to just hold them out in front of me.

She watches my movements like a damn hawk, with her calculating eyes seeming to zone in on every single flaw she can find. Once she finishes, she looks into my eyes again, and something about the look in her light, brown eyes has me actually wanting to shrink back.

But I don't, that's not who I am.

"This is the latest and greatest, huh?" she asks, more so to herself than me, or maybe it's directed toward the audience forming around us.

"I have no idea who you are or what you're talking about," I state, confused and uncomfortable.

She takes a step closer, heels clicking loudly on the tiles, echoing through the silent hallway, as all other conversations stopped the minute she approached me.

She leaves some space between us, but she doesn't need to get any closer to bring us eye to eye, her heels giving her the extra few inches she needs to be as tall as me. I can smell the jasmine fragrance of her perfume swarming around me, making it harder to breathe when combined with the circle forming around us.

This is fucking insane. I don't even know what's going on!

"You sure about that?" she asks.

I freeze for a moment, stupidly scared she read my fucking mind, before realizing she was responding to my earlier statement.

"I'm just trying to get to class on time. I don't want to deal with all of this," I say as I motion toward her and the crowd while grimacing.

"Good," she says cheerily, nodding her head. "Stay away from Jalen and you won't have too."

My stomach drops at her words, at the sweet smile on her face that contradicts what she's just said.

She's still smiling at me, white teeth shining against her perfectly contoured face, high cheekbones highlighted and light, brown eyes popping against her even eyeliner.

Suddenly, the circle's moving, parting for someone to come through. I'm shocked when it's Malia, and I'm relieved when she stands by me, staring at the girl before us with knitted eyebrows.

"Of course you'd be at the center of a circle fifteen minutes into the school day."

The girl directs her gaze to Malia, and I don't miss the way her soft features harden. She juts her chin out. "And of course you can't mind your business when it comes to Jalen and I."

Jalen and I... oh no.

"Don't involve my cousin in your drama, Cortney," Malia demands in an eerily calm tone.

My heart practically stops beating for a second, finally accepting that this is her. This girl is the infamous Cortney Rousso.

"I'm not involving her in anything, Malia," she responds. "I've been very kind to your cousin since she's arrived, right, Lyndon?"

Instead of responding, I become distracted with taking in her appearance. I could already tell she was slender, long and lean. I may be regarded as having long legs, but this girl looks much more toned than me. Stronger.

And her face. Her features are much more softer than mine, smaller, more petite. Whereas I have large, creepy blue eyes, she has doe eyes, the only large thing on her, yet they make her look soft and vulnerable. Her lips are shaped like a heart, and her nose is nowhere as big as mine. Don't even get me started on the fact that her forehead is actually a fourhead, whereas I have a fucking sixhead.

We look nothing alike. Even our mannerisms are different, seeing as she's come off as dainty and precise with all of her words and movements, while I'm more rough and uncoordinated.

Not only do we look different, we seem to act different as well. Almost polar opposites. And she's apparently Jalen's girlfriend. This is what he likes.

"Seeing as two of your girls messed up the halftime performance on Friday, you should be looking for them and sorting out those issues, not harassing my cousin before it's barely eight in the morning."

I almost gasp when Cortney directs her gaze away, and the mean girl persona she came over here with vanishes. She visibly backs down, her shoulders untensing as she looks to the ground briefly.

Her eyes find mine one more time, sending me one last look, before she glares at Malia and storms off, right through the exit the crowd makes for her. After that, they all disperse.

The realization dawns on me that a lot of the rumors are true, seeing as Cortney just staked her claim on Jalen—who everyone said was her boyfriend—and she backed down when Malia came—who everyone says she's never succeeded in tearing away from Jalen.

My stomach drops further when I realize the other rumors hold some truth to them as well, because people said Cortney chases the girls away, and she just called me the latest.

Does that mean the rumors Noah's heard are true as well? I can't help wondering just how bad those must be then.

My throat feels constricted due to all of these new thoughts, and it takes Malia lightly grabbing my arm for me to calm the fuck down and remember where I am.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I look at her, wondering if that's concern in her dark, brown eyes. I honestly see no emotion at all, and I can't tell if that's because this sort of thing happens all the time or Malia is just a fucking robot.

Either option seems plausible, to be honest.

"Um, yeah," I mumble out, not wanting to come off as affected by finally meeting Cortney as I am.

When I hear the homeroom bell ring, meaning I'm officially marked absent, I let a loud groan and slam my locker shut with much more force than needed.

But I had to let that anger in some way before heading to class with all of these theories and doubts in my mind.

Noah must be a motherfucking gardener, because that seed of doubt he planted has sprouted roots and embedded itself in my mind.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

After the events from this morning, I managed to stay out of the limelight for the rest of the day—meaning, I went back to my day two ways and avoided all public areas.

Rachel, however, found me during lunch and grilled me about Cortney confronting me. I didn't say much, seeing as I wanted to forget all about it, but listening to Rachel babble made me only harp on it more.

"They're kind of the golden couple, you know? Everyone thinks they'll end up married, but personally, I think Jalen is itching for a way out."

Rachel sounded so sure when she spoke, making me wonder—and stupidly hope—that there's some truth to her words.

I couldn't have been luckier when I finally made it home, and avoided a lecture from Noah, who no doubt heard what happened. Thank goodness he's obsessed with track and had a pre-tryouts meeting.

Luck was on my side even more as my parents were out once again, still stuck in their honeymoon phase they always get into after making up. It allowed them to never know I got home late, on a damn motorcycle, on Friday, and gave me the chance to erase today's lateness phone call from the school.

I wouldn't have minded them being mad at me, because it's always fun pissing them off, but after what happened today, I can't afford the headache it'll bring me having to hear their mouths.

Knox is locked in his room like usual, having kept up his habit of rushing off after dinner to seclude himself if Mom isn't around. Works for me, because I'm still annoyed at the asshole for what he said three days ago.

But he knows I'll eventually get over it in a week or so. This kind of thing happens all the time. We say something to anger the other, I ignore whoever pissed me off for a week, they happily accept my silence, and then we all move on—until the same issue comes up and we do it all over again, of course.

What a healthy family, huh?

With a shake of my head, I grab the remote and plant myself on the couch, ready to forget the world for a second and watch some television.

That lovely thought goes out the window when my phone vibrates with a text.

I frown, knowing it can't be my parents or Noah, and hope it isn't anyone from Beach Way. I don't have the time or patience for that.

Reaching for my phone, I see it's an unknown number, with a message saying, Lyndon, it's Jalen. I hope you don't mind that Danny gave me your number. I heard what happened today. How are you doing?

My breath catches in my throat, caught between being annoyed that I'm being furthered dragged into this drama—as Malia called it—and feeling giddy that he's checking on me.

For some reason, I go with the second feeling, and just as I'm beginning to type back a response, I decide a text can't suffice me.

I call him before I can change my mind, and he answers on the second ring, making me more confident.

"Hey," he says, and just that one syllable eases the annoyance I felt. "Are you okay?"

And, he ruined it.

Malia asked me that question, and even though the answer is no, I don't want to be looked at as weak. Like I can't handle some girl coming up to me.

Even if that girl is lowkey intimidating in her own way.

"You mean after your rabid dog girlfriend attacked me in the halls?" I joke, purposely saying the g word.

His chuckle comes across the line, bringing a smile to my face that I'm glad he can't see. "I doubt that's what really happened."

My smile drops a little at the fact that he avoided the important part of that question. "I've got the bite marks to prove it."

Jalen laughs again, sounding extremely relaxed, making me briefly wonder where he is. Is he at home? Is he with David? Is he with Cortney? Is he at that ice cream stand?

"Okay, I really doubt that. Cortney's always been all bark, no bite."

"Cortney," I state. "Your girlfriend."

Might as well be direct since he isn't.

"No," he simply states.

"No, she's not your girlfriend, or no, her name's not Cortney?" I hope the stupid humor doesn't make me sound jealous or desparate for confirmation—two things I definitely am.

Ugh, why am I like this?

"She's not my girlfriend," he finally says the words I've wanted to hear come from him since the first day of school when Rachel told me about this girl's existence.

But it doesn't ease the worries within me. The doubt is still there.

"So she's not your girlfriend and you haven't gotten with, or tried getting with, plenty of other girls at school?"

"Wow," Jalen breathes out with a light laugh, and I'm unable to tell if it's an amused or uncomfortable laugh. "You aren't holding back tonight."

"I'm just repeating what I hear, wondering if it's true," I explain, but I should really say, interrogating you through the phone is easier than in person.

"It's not," he says. When I don't respond, he adds, "It's not true."

"None of it," I press, needing clarification.

"It's complicated, but she's not my girlfriend, and I'm not some manwhore."

The line is silent for a moment, as I gather my thoughts. Cortney sure as hell acted like she was his girlfriend, but maybe that's where the complicated part comes in.

I hate that saying. It's complicated. What the actual fuck does that even mean?

And what about the other girls? He said he's not a manwhore, but what defines a manwhore? Sleeping with more than ten girls, fifteen, twenty? Just flirting with them?

He's answering my questions without actually answering them, and it's both irritating and impressive.

Damn, I am so torn.

"Okay," I finally say, feeling like that's the only safe response. If I said everything on my mind, Jalen wouldn't want to talk to me again. Complicated is, ironically, the perfect way to sum up my thoughts right now.

Jalen's quiet for a few seconds, before lowly saying, "I feel like you don't believe me."

His voice changed, it's not teasing or defensive or anything like that. It sounds raw, full of emotion, maybe even hurt that I'd think he'd lie. Or am I just wishing that's how he felt? Wishing he'd care if I believe him, instead of the rumors.

"Does it even matter if I do," I say with the intention of my voice coming out jokingly, but instead, it comes out soft, and I hate how weak it sounds.

"Matters to me," he says in the same low tone.

And there it is, undeniable proof that I am weak, because just hearing those words, whether he even means them or not, makes me melt.

"Oh," I state, not trusting my voice to say anything else.

It's silent again, only the sound of our breathing on the line, mixing in with the background noise of cars from his side, and a mindless television show on mine.

It feels like it could be minutes, hours, days, before Jalen speaks again, and asks the last thing I'd expect from him.

"Can I come see you?"

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A / N:

Honestly my favorite chapter. I've been dying to introduce Cortney. I hope everyone's liking the story so far! Thank you, again, for reading and voting!