1 8
Secret Getaway
"Damn, slow down, Boulevard. Last thing I need is you passing out on me."
I ignore David's irritating voice and finish off my second glass. Turns out, it was champagne that David had been drinking, and the half he had left and gave to me was not enough. I needed another, so I entered the enormous ballroom, found a waiter handing it out on trays, and grabbed two more.
Just as I go for the third, it's torn away. I look toward the culprit, wanting to smack the shit out of them, before I realize it's Davidâwho I've already had the privilege of smacking.
"Boulevard, don't make me cut you off like a two year old," he says sternly.
"What kind of two year old drinks champagne?"
"I did."
I look him up and down. "That explains a lot, actually."
He smiles at that, white teeth shining against his darker skin, making me stop for a second to admire how good looking he is. Too bad that pretty face is wasted on such a shitty personality.
"Get out of my way," I say, pushing past him to get another glass.
Or to find Malia and get the hell out of here, whichever I come across first.
"As much as I would love to get away from you, and, actually, never speak to you again in my fucking life, I can't let you out of my sight tonight," David says as he easily catches up to me.
"And why is that?" I pause and cross my arms over my chest, seeing as there's no point in walking off if he's just going to follow. I'll only tire myself out, or worse, bust my ass in these heels trying to outrun him.
Last thing I need is to draw more attention my way.
"I can't let you ruin things. I don't know why Malia brought you here, but I'm not letting her or you mess this up," he states firmly.
"Mess what up?" I ask with squinted eyes.
And why did he say her with so much venom in his voice? I expected it when he said me, but why talk about Malia like that? I thought they were friends.
David smiles at me, the kind of smile you send someone you think is completely clueless to everything around them.
"Don't worry about that, Boulevard. Just keep to yourself, don't talk my ear off too much, and we'll be good."
He reaches his hand out to pet my head, so I quickly side step his touch. And because I'm, well, me, I knock into a waiter carrying ten full glasses of champagne. He goes tumbling to the ground, taking the expensive drink and glasses with him. Thankfully, I'm totally fine and stay upright.
"Boulevard!" David scolds when he takes in the mess, but I don't miss the amused glint in his eyes.
The waiter is completely laid out. He's conscious, and doesn't look injured at all, but he just lays there, completely done with life.
"Are you good?" David stands over him and asks. When the waiter nods, but still doesn't move, David says, "Bro, get the fuck up, then."
"Nah, I'm suing these people," the waiter announces from the ground.
David turns to me with a can you believe this shit? look, then grabs a glass from another passing waiter and downs the champagne as if it's water. "I'm not drunk enough for this bullshit."
Another waiter runs off to get the Rousso's, so I figure it's best if I disappear before they get here. And since David's too busy chugging back champagne flutes like shots, my best chance to escape is now.
I turn around and take off as fast as I can in my heels while also making sure I don't knock down anyone else.
As I move, I feel people watching me. The more I focus on it, the louder their voices become.
"Is that London Prince? Here, at Cortney's house?"
"That bitch has got balls."
"She looks good, but not good enough to crash an elite's party. What is wrong with her?"
"Go get your man, London!"
I ignore the rest of their voices and try to keep moving. I barely make it out of the ballroom before someone blocks my path.
Jalen Uccello. The cause of all my problems.
"Lyndon," he states, and that's it. That's all he says with a blank face.
"Oh. Um. Hey, Jalen," I wave.
He glances around us before grabbing my arm and dragging me out of the ballroom.
Oh my gosh, is he throwing me out himself? This is so embarrassing.
We keep going until we enter a hallway, and then a room a few doors down, with Jalen closing the door behind us once we're inside.
I ignore the fact that he has this place so memorized that he easily navigated us here. To a small living area, equipped with a couch, fireplace, desk, and... a piano.
Is this where he goes when he comes here? Does Cortney play the piano? Does he play for her?
My heart rate picks up again at the thoughts. At the nervousness I feel seeing Jalen here, in her house, dressed like this.
He's in an all black Armani suit, missing a tie yet managing to look better than every other person out there. His hair is pushed back, and shorter than it was yesterday. He got a haircut? Either way, he looks as beautiful as ever. The black makes his eyes seem brighter than they normally do. His jaw looks sharper, clenched as he examines me the same way I am him.
"What are you doing here?"
His voice sounds deeper than usual. Is he mad at me for coming?
Probably, seeing as he didn't invite me or tell me about this, even though we'd just spoken about our upcoming birthdays yesterday. There's no way he didn't know about this party at that time.
"Malia invited me," I answer in a whisper.
"But why did you come?"
My knees feel weak for a moment, and though I'd like to say its because the heels are finally wearing me down, I know it's because of Jalen. His voice and his eyes that continuously roam over me.
"She asked me too," I say with a lame shrug of my shoulder.
Jalen looks away and shakes his head, clenching his jaw so tight I would bet money that it could cut through anything.
"I'll leave," I begin in a shaky voice, "if you want me too."
His head snaps my way, blue eyes darker than ever, pinning me to my spot.
"I don't want you to leave," he finally answers.
"You're acting like you do," I say with a firmer voice, finding my confidence after having verbal confirmation that he does want me here.
He sighs, bringing his hand up to his forehead and letting it rub down his face, before falling heavily back to his side. "It's..."
"...complicated? Yeah, I figured."
Jalen's eyes find me once more, and he gulps, the sound extremely loud in the quiet room.
The sound of my heart becomes loud in my ears, my nerves reaching a new high. The longer he looks at me, the faster my heart beats, and I can't tell if it's a good or bad thing.
I can't tell if he's a good or bad thing for me.
Jalen's dressed like a beautiful nightmare, eyeing me as if I'm his next bedtime victim.
"I can only imagine what's going through your mind right now," he whispers hesitantly. "How many questions you must have."
Oh, Jalen. I couldn't give a damn about anything else except how you're making me feel right now.
I keep my mouth shut, unable to even find my voice.
Is it wrong to still like him? We're standing in a room, in Cortney's houseâthe girl everyone in school is saying is his girlfriend, who's throwing him this lavish party. Malia said their parents want them together. Jalen, himself, has told me twice that it's complicated.
Why subject myself to this? This can't possibly end well.
And yet, when I find Jalen's eyes again, I can't stop my heart from skipping a literal beat.
"Lyndon," Jalen calls out, noticing that I may be here physically, but mentally, I'm somewhere else. When I nod in response, he pauses, licks his pink lips and mutters, "You look so beautiful."
That's it. I'm a goner.
He takes a step forward. I take two back.
Something I identify as hurt flashes across Jalen's face, but it's so brief, I'm not sure if it was even really there.
"Are you gonna marry her? Is that what this is? Some kind of arranged marriage?" I ask, needing to know. I obviously don't think Jalen and I will end up married one day, but right now, he's the boy I like, so thinking that he's already promised to somebody else bothers me.
Jalen scoffs. "Hell no." He sees my unbelieving face, so he adds, "It's what our family's want for right now. The truth is, I can't stand Cortney. And she can't stand me."
For some reason, I don't believe a damn word he says.
And for some reason, I still don't leave. I don't want too.
Instead, I release a shaky breath and say, "Okay."
"Okay," Jalen repeats with a nod of his head. "Okay, so, um, do you want to go back out there?"
I don't, and I can tell by the hesitant look on his face that he doesn't want to either.
With a shake of my head, he breathes in deeply and releases it shortly after, nodding his head in agreement and walking further into the room.
"This is the only room I feel comfortable in when I come here," he begins saying, walking to the large window and pushing back the drapes as he peers outside. "It's quiet, and usually empty. I think I'm the only person who actually knows it exists."
He lets out a breathy laugh when he turns around, letting me know he's just as nervous as I am.
"Is it because of the piano?" I ask, nodding toward the beautiful instrument placed on the other side of the room, wanting to move away from talking about who lives in this house.
A ghost of a smile comes to Jalen's face when he turns toward the piano. It falls away as he says, "My parents are the reason that thing's even here."
The reminder of his parents' closeness with Cortney's makes my stomach flip, as it shows how serious this little arrangement is. But hearing the edge in Jalen's voice, the annoyance he holds at the fact that something was placed here for him by his parents, oddly eases me.
He doesn't want this. He doesn't want her.
But... does he want me?
I close my eyes and tell myself to calm down. When I open them, Jalen's eyes are still casted toward the piano.
So, I gently tell him, "Play for me."
Jalen looks unsure, having some kind of war with himself, before ultimately nodding. "One song."
I send him a small smile, thankful for the little distraction it'll provide. He slowly makes his way to the other side of the room, but he stops once he's next to me.
"C'mon," he murmurs, motioning with his head for me to follow. "You have to sit on that uncomfortable ass bench, too."
He extends a hesitant hand out to me, but I pretend not to see it, opting to start walking toward the bench myself. I hear Jalen exhale heavily before following. I ignore the sound of his heavy footsteps behind me, taking a seat on the bench, and understanding why Jalen said it was uncomfortable.
It's hard, and cold, and would probably feel a lot better to sit on if I had extra cushioning. But instead, as Malia pointed out earlier when we were getting ready, I'm flat as a pancake everywhere.
Jalen lets out a brief laugh at my face, which clearly shows how uncomfortable I am. "Told you," he says as he sits next to me.
I make sure to sit as close to the edge as possible, but even so, Jalen either purposely sits close to me or maybe this bench isn't as long as it looked. His leg brushes against mine, and when he raises his arms to position them over the keys, it touches mine.
His fingers don't move, though. They lightly touch the keys, but not hard enough to make any sound. I glance at him, wondering why he won't start. His brows are furrowed in concentration, blue eyes barely visibly as he squints.
Finally, his eyes close, and his fingers begin to press into the keys. The sound isn't as smooth or organic as it should be, but then again, I'm not a pianist. I can't judge.
Suddenly, the sounds grow louder, and they start to come together. Jalen's eyes remain closed as the song plays out, and I instantly identify it as the same tune he played that day in SoHo.
It sounds familiar again, not just because I heard it that day, but because I've heard it somewhere else before.
But still, I can't quite place the song. He plays the same notes over and over again, but they're slow, slower than they should be.
When he reaches the end, and his fingers stop moving, and his eyes finally open, is when it clicks.
"Was that Heart and Soul?" I ask lowly, keeping my eyes on his fingers that are still lightly touching the piano keys.
I can feel his stare on me, barely hearing his low whisper of, "Yes."
I nod to myself, proud I was able to recognize it, but I'll give the credit for that to Knox. Well, actually, to our parents. They had wanted him to take up an activity, always worried when the younger boy would sit around the house after school and on the weekends with no hobby. I suppose that's an average thing for kids, but when compared to Noah, who always had his love for track, and me, who had my love for swimming and then began bike-riding when that was no longer an option, they thought Knox was missing out.
Piano lessons was one of their many solutions, as they wanted Knox to have options, not wanting to force anything upon him. Heart and Soul by Hoagy Carmichael was one of the beginner songs he learned. He hated playing, but the sound that'd come from that piano for the two weeks he tried was beautiful.
Knox had only played a slow version, nothing like the faster one his instructor demonstrated, but that was because he bailed on the instrument after a few lessons.
I assumed Jalen had been playing for a while, especially if his parents had a piano placed in Cortney's house just for him. But so far, I've seen Jalen drawing the same few notes in his notebook, and playing the same few notes the two times I've asked him too.
"It's the only song I know how to play," he admits.
Wiping my hand subtly on the side of my dress, knowing it's grown clammy from my nerves, I reach it out and place it slowly over Jalen's hand that's still resting on the keys.
His stare is still burning into me, but I refuse to look his way. Instead, I nudge his hand lightly to turn it over, and when he obliges, I lock our fingers together.
Hopefully he understands what I'm trying to convey. That I want to know everything without having to ask. Without having to force him. If this doesn't make him feel comfortable enough to open up, then whatever this is, is hopeless.
"My parents are in denial."
I refrain from letting out a relieved breath, choosing instead to bring my other hand over our intertwined ones and letting myself finally look up at him.
Jalen directs his gaze to my two hands engulfing his, before continuing. "They didn't listen to the teachers that told them I should get tested. Repeating the second grade didn't even make them admit that something was wrong. Instead, they pushed me to play the piano. As if that would help. I struggled for years to figure out how to read sheet music."
I brush my thumb over his hand, then whisper, "At least you learned something. That's an accomplishment, Jalen."
He shakes his head, still focusing intently on our hands. "Not when it's the easiest song to learn."
"Hey," I murmur, moving one hand to lightly touch the side of his face, gently turning him toward me. I ignore how defined his cheekbones feel, knowing this isn't the time to start swooning. "It's still something. It's still beautiful."
Jalen scoffs. "Not to them. They expected more after seven years of lessons."
Quickly doing the math in my head, I drop my hand and realize he began taking lessons around the time he was diagnosed. "Did they think that playing the piano would help with your dyslexia?"
"They didn't care, Lyndon," he says with a bitter laugh. "They didn't think it was real. I was just some dumb kid that needed guidance in school and in life."
I hope that wasn't the case. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt, but with the look in Jalen's eyes, it's hard to do so.
Still, I try to find something. "You're telling me you were diagnosed with dyslexia, as a child, and your parents did nothing?"
The ocean within Jalen's eyes rages at the thought of his parents actually doing something.
"They're the reason I'm like this," he finally says, but his voice isn't loud or angry like I expected it to be. It's calm, and low, and tired of talking.
My heart aches picturing the little boy I saw in that picture at the Williams' mansion, struggling in school, confused as to why he was different from the others. And then, when he finally finds out, his parents sweep it under the rug. They don't help him.
I feel my own anger bubbling as I picture Jalen now, insecure about his reading and writing, all because he didn't receive the proper help sooner.
Suddenly, I'm angry at two people I don't know, two people I've never met. I want nothing more than to yell at them for doing this to him.
And then I realize just how much I like this blue eyed boy sitting next to me. Just how much I care. Just how deep I am into all of this, despite all of the rumors and who's house we're at.
The feeling only intensifies when Jalen looks at me, eyes roaming from my overly exposed legs, up my body, and landing on my face. His gaze goes to my lips, remaining there for a few seconds.
In those few seconds, I decide what I want. I've wanted it since the night we talked in his car, when I thought he'd do it but he backed away. And then in SoHo, when the same thing happened.
Twice seems to be our thing, so I'm not letting the moment go by a third time.
Even when Jalen's eyes finally leave my lips, and he removes his hand from my hold, I don't tell myself to stop.
Instead, I bring my hand to the side of his face like I did earlier, except this time, it's not to gently push him in my direction. With one hand on his jaw and the other reaching for his shoulder, I close my eyes, ignore the pit in my stomach at what I'm about to do, and just do it.
My lips lightly brush his, because apparently shouting Nike's logo in my mind didn't give me the confidence I needed. His lips feel soft, and his shoulder is tense under my hand, and that's enough to make me pull back with open eyes.
Jalen's own eyes are wide, clearly shocked.
I'm ready to cringe from the embarrassment, and concoct some lie as to why the fuck I just did that.
But instead, Jalen's hand cups my cheek, pulling my head back to him as his lips catch mine.
Our lips move harshly against each others, nothing like the feathery touch I started us off with. He tilts my head back, taking control and deepening the kiss as our tongues meet. Both of my arms go around his neck, and he moves an arm to my waist, pulling me closer.
One of my hands travel down to his chest, feeling how hot his skin is through his thin dress shirt. His other hand reaches the part of my back that's exposed due to the style of my dress, and when his fingers glide across the bare skin, I feel chills flow through my body, despite how hot it's gotten in here.
Jalen's hand grips my hip, and just as I'm ready to take the hint to move myself onto his lap, I hear the doorknob fumbling from across the room.
I push away from him as fast as I can by instinct, sliding down the bench and almost falling onto my ass.
I can hear my own heartbeat like a drum in my ears, mixing in with the sounds of our heavy breathing.
There's no time to even comprehend what's just happened between us, because the door's being swung open, and a pissed off Cortney Rousso is standing in the doorway.
"What the hell is this?" She asks with malice in her tone, gesturing with one hand at us.
Her eyes are on me, but I can't seem to find my voice. I don't know if it's because I'm too stunned from kissing Jalen, or because I'm confused by the switch in Cortney.
I've been sitting with them at lunch for weeks now. Cortney never glances my way once. I began assuming that maybe she was just putting on a show in the hallway, but deep down, doesn't want Jalen.
With the angry glint in her eyes, I'm finding it hard to believe that theory now.
She lets out a growl of annoyance, before throwing her head back and marching into the room. I scatter from my seat at the bench and stand, ignoring the warmth I feel when Jalen steps in front of me, acting as a human shield.
Cortney stops in the middle of the room, composes herself, and then speaks.
"This isn't a hotel, Jalen. This is a party. In your favor. Try mingling with your guests for more than five minutes before disappearing." She begins walking out of the room, before turning around to see that Jalen hasn't moved. "Well? Come on, tête de noeud!"
She storms out after that, but the clicking of her heels doesn't go too far, meaning she's standing right outside the door. Waiting.
Jalen faces me, and takes a step closer, so we can talk lowly without her hearing.
"I don't want to sound like an asshole, but I need to go," he says in a deeper, hoarse voice that makes my knees go weak. "She's insulting me in French, which means she's really pissed off."
I nod my head, having assumed she said something mean, but not sure what language she had been talking in.
Jalen doesn't move. His eyes watch me, hesitant to leave.
"Go. It's fine," I say, motioning with my hand toward the door.
"Lyndon," he whispers, "are you sure?"
I smile at him. "Yes, go."
He watches me for a few more seconds before turning and leaving.
Once he's gone, I bring my fingers to my lips and turn toward the bench we had been sitting on.
What the fuck just happened?
Did I really just make out with Jalen? After he opened up to me about his life all on his own? And did Cortney come barging in and sweep him away seconds later?
Yes, yes, and yes.
I can't just sit here overanalyzing everything, though. Malia said to meet her in an hour in the foyer, and I'm not sure how much time has passed since then, but it has to have been somewhere around that.
I leave the room, walking slowly through the halls, following the sounds of people talking and laughing, using that as my guide back to the ballroom.
The sound of one glass clinking, and then several others following, help me locate the room faster. More people have filed in, making me wonder just how many of them Jalen knows. The room is huge, and it's almost completely full. He can't possibly know all of these people.
Everyone's attention is directed toward the extravagant staircase further into the room. Standing at the top is Cortney, her parents, a boy, and a girl. The boy looks a little older than Cortney, while the girl looks younger. I'm assuming these are her siblings.
Next to them, one step below, is Jalen and two adults I haven't seen before.
Oh my god, are those Jalen's parents?
The resemblance between Jalen and the older woman is uncanny. The only significant difference between themâother than their eyesâis their height. It's obvious Jalen got that from his father, but other than sharing that trait, there's no other similarities. Definitely not in the way they hold themselves, seeing as the older man standing with his arm on Jalen's shoulder looks far too reserved and rigid when compared to his son.
As everyone stops clinking their glasses, waiting on one of them to speak, I notice a little girl standing a step lower than Jalen and his parents. She can't be more than four or five years old. She has the same dark hair and small frame as Jalen and his mother. It doesn't take rocket science to figure out that she's his sister.
"I want to thank everybody for coming out to celebrate Jalen's birthday," Cortney begins saying to the crowd. She holds up her glass, and everyone else raises theirs. I grab one from a nearby waiter, following their actions.
Cortney descends down the stairs, standing next to Jalen as she continues speaking. "This is the third birthday I've spent by your side, and I couldn't be more thrilled to celebrate with you, mon chéri."
I hear aw's all around me. My eyes widen at the fact that they've apparently been together for three years.
Cortney's glass tilts in Jalen's direction. He remains with a hardened face, but follows along, tilting his glass her way.
"To many more birthdays and memories," she says, clinking her glass against his. "Forever."
She leans in, pressing her lips against his in a chaste kiss that earns applause and squeals from the crowd.
When she pulls away, satisfied smile present on her red colored lips, she raises her glass to the air and shouts, "Cheers!"
As Cortney, her siblings, and everyone else in the ballroom takes a sip from their drinks, I lock eyes with Jalen, who's the only other person besides myself that hasn't touched their glass.
I can see from my spot on the floor that his lips are stained red. His eyes remain on me, even when Cortney taps him for his attention. Her gaze follows his, and when we make eye contact, she sends me a smile.
Her smile dims when someone comes to stand next to me. I realize that person is Malia. I also realize just how threatened Cortney is by her.
Maybe I can use this to my advantage.
I turn to Maliaâforgetting that she ditched me at a party once again and that she's still as shady as they comeâand tap my glass against hers. We exchange a knowing smile before I'm turning to face Cortney, who's eyes remain glued to us.
I bring the glass to my lips and smile around the rim.
Cheers, bitch.
ââââââââââ²âââââââââ
Malia and I end up sticking around the party for a while longer. Mainly just to get on Cortney's nerves.
We stand to the side, drinking champagne whenever it's offered to us, and mind our business. It's clear just having our presence here is upsetting Cortney, and that's all either of us need.
I'm not sure why Malia wants to annoy her, but right now, I don't need to know. It's not the time to talk about it.
Part of me doesn't ever want to know. Especially if it's Jalen related.
"There you are," David sings as he walks toward us. He holds an arm out, clearly ready to hug one of us, but that's stopped when Dedra steps next to him and grips his arm tightly. "Ouch."
Dedra lets out a forced laugh at his pained sound, while Malia looks on with amusement, and I smile happily at the sight.
"Thanks for running off and leaving me to deal with your mess, by the way," David says, pointing a finger at me.
I raise an eyebrow. "My mess?"
"Are you forgetting the waiter whom you body slammed onto the ground earlier?"
"Lyndon," Malia chides playfully.
Dedra doesn't catch on, looking confused as to what David means.
"I did not body slam anyone," I clarify for her sake.
Malia and David cackle at my defensive tone, so I flip them both the bird.
"Lyndon, this is a black-tie event. Please keep your middle fingers to yourself," Daniel says, appearing out of nowhere.
I reach my arms out to hug him instinctively. His arms wrap tightly around my waist in return, and I dig my head into his shoulder, suddenly needing his comfort.
It hits me just how much has happened in the last few hours. How wrapped up I've gotten in Arlin Preparatory's elite group. How Daniel seems to be the only sane member.
Well, other than Elijah, who seems to have the common sense to never attend any parties.
"Lyndon, is everything alright?" Daniel whispers into my ear, trying not to let the others hear.
I pull back a little, but keep my arms secured around his neck, while his remain on my waist. "Yeah, everything's great. I just feel like we haven't talked in a while, you know?"
He nods along. "Yeah, I know. I've missed you."
"We're gonna head out," David tells Daniel, coming to stand right behind me.
I remove my hands from Daniel and push an elbow out to nudge David away. He uses his own elbow to knock into mine, making me wish I'd slapped him harder that day in the hallway.
I turn to Dedra, ready to ask her how in the hell she deals with his annoying ass, but I'm thrown off when she sends me a knowing smile, eyes following the arm Daniel still has wrapped around me.
Once they're gone, I feel Malia pulling on my arm, causing me to awkwardly stumble out of Daniel's embrace.
"Let's go," she states.
"Why? I thought the point was to stay until the very end," I say with wide eyes, leaving out the to piss Cortney off as much as possible part since Daniel's listening.
Her eyes catch something over my shoulder, before she's tugging on my arm again and saying, "Just follow me."
I turn to see who she was looking at, and when I notice it's the older guy who was standing on the stairs with Cortney and her parents earlier, I turn back to Malia with intrigue.
"Are you running from that cute guy?" I ask with a grin.
Malia lets out a brief laugh. "Please, I run from no one. I simply just don't want to talk."
I raise my hands, making a yeah, okay face.
"Fine, stay all night if you want. I'll be waiting in the car," she announces, before turning and disappearing in the crowd.
My eyes look for the guy, watching as he tries to find Malia, but has no luck. One thing I know about my cousin is that she always gets her way.
"Do you know him?" I ask Daniel, pointing toward the guy.
Recognition flashes across his face. "That's Anthony Rousso."
"As in, Cortney's brother?" I ask, although I already suspected that he is.
"Mhm," he hums. "Two years older, I believe? I'm not really sure. We never talked much when he went to Arlin. He was more of Jalen and David's friend."
I nod, but say nothing else.
Daniel then turns to me and makes a face as if he's just remembered something important. Rather than saying it, he places a gentle hand on my arm and guides me into a hallway that's emptier than the corner we'd been standing in.
"What?" I question, giggling at the secrecy.
"I heard something, but I didn't want to ask you out there, just in case people overheard and spread more rumors," he says, rolling his eyes at the rumors part. Good to know he hates them as much as me. "Were you with Jalen earlier?"
My head reels back. "Where'd you hear that?"
"Some girls were saying they saw you two sneaking away together. Never mind. What they said doesn't matter. I figured it wasn't true anyway, but I just wanted to make sure."
"Why would you want to make sure?" My voice cracks, giving away how true that rumor is in an instant.
His eyes widen, worry appearing on his face. "Lyndon, it's true?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Because it's Jalen," is all he says.
"Isn't Jalen your friend?" I ask, tone getting a little defensive.
"Yes," he stresses the word. "Of course he is. Jalen's family."
"So then what would be so wrong with me hanging out with him?"
"It's wrong if you're doing more than hanging out," he answers vaguely.
"You can't give me that weird warning and not explain, Daniel. What's so wrong with it? Is it because of the rumors?"
"No," he right away says. "The rumors don't matter. I'm trying to look out for you. I don't know if you've noticed, but we're currently at his girlfriend's house."
He uses air quotes over the word girlfriend, but the sentiment still stands. Even then, though, I don't back down. From what I've been told by Jalen and Malia, that relationship isn't real.
"I like him," I admit, feeling my hands grow sweaty from saying the words out loud.
"Of course you do," he mutters under his breath.
"What does that mean?" I ask, not even bothering to hide the hurt in my voice.
"Nothing," he stresses, stepping closer and sending me a small smile. "I swear I'm just trying to have your back. Remember where we are."
I remember, and I still don't care.
I didn't want to move here. I didn't want to leave Florida and Liam behind. But I did, and I'mâfinallyâhappy about it. Leaving made Liam, and my other friends, reveal their true selves to me.
And, it bought me Jalen. I can't help thinking that he is what New York had to offer me.
But I won't say that to Daniel, since I'm already regretting admitting my feelings.
"I should go. I don't want to keep Malia waiting," I say, stepping back into the ballroom.
Daniel sighs, before falling into step with me. "I'll walk you out."
We exchange a smile that I interpret as agreeing to drop the topic. I'm thankful I have someone looking out for me, and I'm hoping that's all it really is. Just a friend worrying for their friend. No jealousy and, please, no hidden secrets.
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A / N:
My new favorite chapter. For obvious reasons.
Hope everyone's enjoying!