31. Frosty + Forgive

The following morning, I wake to feel a hand clutched in mine.

Opening my eyes, I see Presley's snoozing figure next to me, her hair a wild mess.

The memories of last night come flooding into the forefront of my brain. After what I would classify as the happiest moment of my life thus far... I had witnessed Haven making out with a woman who just so happens to not only be the aunt of my nemesis, but also who is married to my best friend's boyfriend. I'd successfully managed to not kick Haven in the balls or slap Tamara in the face and instead, had uttered a few choice words and immediately high-tailed inside to find Presley so I could tell her what I'd discovered.

I'd let Jayce know that as much as I wished I could spend the night next to him, that I had to leave. I had to take care of Presley. Sisters before misters and all that. I didn't tell him why... it didn't feel like the right time to be like, "Oh, by the way, you know the Police Chief of our town, the guy married to the chick who's face Haven was eating? Yeah, he's sleeping with my best friend, a seventeen year old."

I had driven Pres and I back to her house immediately. When I told her, she'd been crushed. Beyond crushed. I'd never seen her cry so hard and for so long. It was heartbreaking.

Wiggling out of bed so as to not wake her, I stumble into her bathroom, my legs clearly not as awake as I am. Looking at my reflection in the large mirror, with my tangled hair and smeared makeup, I can't help but smile. I'm dating Jayce Solis.

Never in a million years could I have guess that I'd ever be able to say that, let alone be happy about it. I never even thought I'd date until after college, if that.

But here I stand in my best friend's bathroom, my heart soaring higher and higher the more I think about my fucking hot brown-eyed, curly-haired boyfriend. It's so surreal.

I wash my face, brush my teeth and comb through my hair before silently treading down the stairs to find something yummy to wake Presley up with.

I love this house. Other than my own home, this is the place where I've spent most of my time. When Presley and I met on the first day of fifth grade, we'd instantly bonded over our mutual love of Zac Efron and sugary food. At lunch, she'd walked right up to me and told me she loved my High School Musical folder. I'd proceeded to share my bag of frosted animal crackers with her and everything blossomed from there.

Her parents weren't around a lot, but when they were, they were always welcoming and warm. They're both just genuinely very happy, very in love people. It must be where Pres gets her effervescence.

Strolling into the kitchen, I can tell her mom has already been up this morning. There's a fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, just waiting to warm my throat and chase away any lingering strands of sleep.

I pour two mugs and grab bowls, spoons, Frosted Flakes cereal and the milk from the fridge.

Running back up to her room, I gently nudge her awake, holding the steaming coffee mug under her nose.

"Hey, love," I say gently, moving her hair out of her face as she comes to.

Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy.

"Uuurgmph," Presley moans, stretching out before sitting up and grabbing her head. "Ow. Who knew crying for hours could make you feel like you have a hangover?"

"Probably everyone who's ever had their heart broken," I hand her a mug of coffee and climb back into bed with mine. "Frosted Flakes?"

"Yes, please," she mutters, staring down at her mug.

I make bowls for both of us and though we eat in silence, it's not awkward. That's something I love about Presley. Yes, she loves to talk and it's rare that she ever stops, but when she does, it's never uncomfortable. I always feel at home with her.

"I'm such an idiot," Presley whispers after she finishes her cereal.

"Pres, no you're not," I place my hand on her knee. "You're not an idiot, he's just a cheater."

"Technically I can't even call him a cheater," she sighs, laying back down.

"Well, he's a liar and a deceiver, which isn't much better," I feel anger starting to rise inside me. "What he did was fucked up. There's no way we could've known."

"I just can't believe I've slept with another woman's husband... I went on vacation to another country with him, Fal. Why didn't he tell me?" Her voice breaks and I imagine if she had any more tears left, they'd be spilling down her cheeks. "Obviously, Haven knows Tamara has an open marriage. So why didn't Cole just tell me?"

"He probably thought you wouldn't want to be with him if you knew."

"No shit! He thought right!" She covers her face with her hands. "...God, I feel so fucking stupid. I should've listened to you."

I lay next to her, pulling her into my chest and rubbing the back of her head. "It's okay to feel this way, Pres," I tell her gently, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I don't really know what to say, but there's nothing wrong with you. You're not stupid. You didn't know. No one did. You gave him your all, which is what you're supposed to do in a relationship. You're strong and beautiful and every guy's dream, Pres. He's the one that fucked up."

She exhales slowly, snuggling into me. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I hug her tightly, wishing I could make her feel better. "What can I do to help? We could eat a shit ton of ice cream? Or drink wine, color our hair and watch movies? Or all of those things?"

She's silent for a few moments before saying, "Or we could get revenge."

~

Two hours later, we're standing in front of Cole's house. Presley has completely done herself up and she looks like a fucking goddess in her tight red dress.

I'm still in the sweatpants and t-shirt I'd slept in, but I don't care. I'd gone to the store to get supplies while she primped. She was going to confront him in his own home, in front of his wife. Then we would spray paint "LIAR," in huge red letters on the window of his police cruiser, and post our homemade flyers all over town.

I was just here for moral support/backup, and to look at him with disgust the whole time.

I'd been opposed to the flyers, asking Presley if she was sure she wanted our whole town to know she'd been with Cole. She said she didn't care, that she just wanted to hurt him. I was certain she'd come to regret her decision later, but right now, all that mattered to me was helping her feel better. And if sharing their photos helped her with that... I was all for it.

She walks up to the door with purpose in every step. She rings the doorbell and gives me a sideways glance, quickly squeezing my hand before Cole answers the front door.

"Presley?" He asks, clearly caught off guard. He instantly seems nervous, but checks her out anyway. "W-what are you doing here, baby?"

"I just had to see you!" She grins and steps towards him, pressing herself against him.

"Why is Fallon here?" He asks her quietly, as if I can't fucking hear him. Idiot.

"She's just dropping something off for her brother."

"Her brother?" His expression screws up in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you in a sec," she says in a seductive tone. "Can we come in?"

"Uhh..." Cole glances at me desperately, like he's somehow hoping I'll keep her from going inside. I just smile, acting dumb.

Suddenly, a familiar head of red hair appears next to Cole.

"What are you doing, handsome?" Tamara purrs, wrapping Cole's hand in hers. Her eyes land on me with a flash of recognition before she scans Presley from top to bottom. "Who's the slut?"

"Hi, you're Cole's wife, right?" Pres puts on a fake smile while Cole's face drains of color. "I'm Presley, I'm seventeen years old and your husband and I have been fucking for the last four months."

Tamara's face hardens and she looks up at Cole. "You didn't tell me the bitch you've been seeing is a minor, sweetie."

Cole's expression is vacant as he just stands there, opening and closing his mouth at a complete loss for words.

"It's okay, he didn't tell me everything, either. Like, for example, that he's married," Presley smiles, looking like a queen. "In fact, he didn't even mention you once. Although, he did say I'm the best he's ever been with."

Tamara's mouth presses into a hard line. "Why are you here? To 'expose' him? To get me to leave him so you can have him all to yourself?" She chuckles, her eyes darkening. What the hell does Haven see in her? "Cole and I have an open marriage, honey. Yes, I'm surprised that he'd be stupid enough to be with a minor, but that's it. You can't touch us. The longer you stand here, the only thing that's going to get hurt is your dignity." She finishes with a superior smile.

Yep. She's definitely related to Layla. Bitchiness must be in their DNA sequence.

"Right..." Presley's eyes narrow as she puts her hand out toward me, motioning for me to hand her a stack of flyers. "Because even when there's one of these on every stop sign in town, I still wouldn't be able to touch you." She says in a mocking tone.

Tamara and Cole exchange nervous glances.

"Our only rule is no photos you absolute fuck-head," Tamara smacks Cole's abdomen, and not in a playful way.

"Presley," Cole regains his breath, finally figuring out how to use his words. "I know that you hate me, and you have every right to. I won't even try to explain myself."

Presley flips her hair off her shoulders, listening.

"But, please..." His eyes are begging. "Don't hang those signs. I'll lose my job. I'll go to jail."

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you used me and lied to me," Presley retorts, her voice seething with anger and hurt.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I'm married," Cole drops his eyes, looking at his shoes. "I didn't want to risk losing you."

"Well, this has been a really grand start to the New Year. Thank you, Cole, for your complete idiocy," Tamara smirks, her eyes turning to Presley. "If you share that flyer, I will personally see to it that your life is destroyed just as much as Cole's, little girl," she threatens in a chilling voice.

Presley steps forward, almost nose to nose with Tamara. "I'd like to see you try, bitch."

With that, Presley flings the stack of flyers in the air and they scatter everywhere. She turns on her heeled foot and stalks toward the driveway while I chase after her, leaving a stunned Cole and Tamara in our wake.

We climb into her car and she starts the engine, zipping out of their neighborhood at a terrifying speed.

"What about the spray paint?" I ask as we zoom through town.

Presley is silent as she stares out at the road, her face hardened in an angry yet contemplative expression.

"Pres?" I ask again. "The paint?"

She shakes her head. "He didn't even try to defend himself," she says, her voice so quiet I almost don't hear it.

"He knows he fucked up," I put my feet up on the dash. "He has no way to defend himself. At least he's decent enough to see that."

She doesn't reply. She just keeps staring out the windshield.

"So, where should we start with the flyers?" I'm a little unnerved by how she's acting.

"The park," she replies solemnly.

Within minutes, we're parking in the town square. I'm reminded of when I was here with Jayce back in October, and with Leo before that. Presley and I get out of the car in silence, walking to the same stop sign Jayce was idling at when he saw Leo and I making out in the back of his car. Oh, how things have changed.

I hand Presley the roll of tape and one of the flyers from my bag.

She holds the flyer up to the post and tapes it down. She steps back to look at her work, nodding once before flitting off toward a nearby speed limit sign.

I'm still taking a trip down memory lane, so when she stops mid-walk, I run into her back.

"What's wrong?" I ask as she turns around, her eyes conflicted.

She shakes her head. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't put them up."

"Okay," I breathe, a weight lifting off my chest. I didn't want her to have to deal with all the bullshit that would inevitably come her way when the entire town knew she'd been with Cole.

She practically runs back to the stop sign and rips the flyer down, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into a waste bin. She looks back up at me with all seriousness, "He doesn't deserve it."

"What?" I ask, my voice harsher than I intended. I'm confused as fuck. "Of course he deserves it! He deserves some sort of consequences for fucking with you and being such a jerk off."

"No," her eyes are sad. "Hurting him back won't make me feel better."

"I mean... It might," I mumble, folding my arms. I think I want to hurt him more than she does.

"Mom would tell me that the best thing I can do right now is move on," she says, determination seeping into her voice. "She'd tell me to forgive him and not let it hold me back. Just let it go."

"But he's awful!" I almost whine. "He doesn't deserve to be forgiven."

"It's not justifying what he did, Fallon," she eyes the flyers sticking out of my bag with a bit of annoyance. "It's setting myself free from the burden of it."

I roll my eyes. I really want to get back at him for hurting my best friend... but I know she's right. Damn it.

"When the fuck did you get so zen?" I grumble, but I'm actually really impressed by her right now.

"Maybe all the alcohol is finally starting to age me," she lets out a small laugh as we head back to her car. "If you don't mind, Fal, I sort of want to spend the rest of the day by myself. I have a lot to think about."

"That's totally fine," I tell her as her Fiat rockets toward my house.

I'm amazed by my best friend. She's always been beautiful on the outside, but what I just saw from her makes me believe she's even more beautiful on the inside. I know I definitely wouldn't have the maturity to do what she just did. To forgive... I'd just want to replace his eyeballs with his other set of balls.

We pull into the driveway as the sky grows darker.

"Thanks for everything," Presley says genuinely, her eyes shining.

"No problem," I tell her, smiling. "Whatever you need. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"Thank you. Love you," she returns my grin.

"Love you, too," I climb out, grab my bags and skip up the steps, noticing a vaguely familiar car in the driveway.

My eyebrows crunch together as I quietly enter the house, wondering who could be here. Laughter meets my ears. I quietly set down my bags and tiptoe through the kitchen, peering around the corner and into the living room.

Haven and Celia - the car in the driveway must be her's - are on the couch while mom is in an armchair. They're watching a British comedy show called The IT Crowd, and all clearly find it hilarious. Aside from the fact that Haven was kissing Layla's aunt last night and is curled up on the couch with my teammate today... It's still a precious scene. I make a mental note to whoop his ass later though.

I feel like I'm intruding, even though I'm in my own home. Seeing Haven and mom both looking so happy, while being in the same room together, is something I never thought I'd see.

I back up slowly, not wanting to make a noise and disturb the happy moment.

I hadn't talked to mom much since she told me she was going to get clean. I kept telling myself that I needed time to get over everything she'd put us through. But then, there Haven is, laughing and happy with her like nothing ever even happened.

Thoughts spin around my head as I lightly trod up the steps to my room.

Maybe Presley is on to something. What was it she had said? "It's not justifying what he did. It's setting myself free from the burden of it."

I'll be the first to admit, mom's actions put a definite burden on me. I always thought that holding onto it kept me from getting hurt. But what did holding onto it accomplish? It made me keep my distance from her for the past three months, which just hurt us both more. Perhaps it is time to free myself.

Flopping onto the bed, I pull out my phone and check it for the first time since I left the party last night. My heart leaps as I read over the messages.

I fall back onto my bed, completely giddy and giggling as I continue reading.

If friggin Haven hadn't decided to make out with a married woman, my evening could've been very different. My legs tingle at the thought.

The unevenness of my heartbeat is probably unhealthy, but I don't give a shit. I can't stop giggling, tossing and turning on my comforter. If this what all crushes are like, I think I finally get why people love having them so much.

I press my thumb into the phone icon by Jayce's name and he picks up after the first ring.

"Guess what?" He asks excitedly, his voice filling my head.

"What?"

"You're really fucking hot," his voice is a growl. "I wish I had my hands all over you right now."

"Well, you don't waste any time, do ya?" I giggle, slightly turned on.

"It's not my preference," I can hear his smirk through the phone. "So how was your first day of the new year, beautiful?"

I fill him in about how Presley and Cole have been together for the past four months, which shocked the absolute fuck out of him. I also explain what went down on Cole's front porch, and what happened after Pres and I hung up the first flyer.

"Damn," he breathes. "She's a badass. No wonder you're friends with her."

"What do you mean?" I laugh, my stomach knotting. You'd think that by now I'd be a little more used to him. But nope.

"You're amazing and strong, and so it just makes sense that you'd be friends with people who are also amazing and strong," his voice is slow and sweet.

I can't help but smile like an idiot. "You're really fucking smooth, you know that right?"

"It's my finest quality."

"So how did you spend the first day of the new year?"

"Fantasizing about my smoking hot girlfriend," he remarks casually, like it doesn't make me want to drop my underwear. "And hoping she'd let me take her out tomorrow."

"Hmm..." I stay silent for several moments, hoping to torture him a little as he waits for my response. "That sounds like it could be enjoyable."

"Good! We're going on a date. A real one."

"As opposed to what?" I tease. "A fake one?"

"Or one where I was wishing it was a date and you were oblivious, like when we had our photoshoot and I took you to the Harvest Party."

"What do you mean 'oblivious'?" I ask with a slight scowl. He's so full of shit. I love it. Ugh.

"I kept trying to flirt with you and you kept ignoring me!" he chuckles.

"I was not ignoring you!" I counter, feeling my cheeks redden. "I just didn't want to let myself like you."

"Oh, really? How'd that work out for you?" he quips. I can picture the playful look on his face.

"Shut up," I grumble, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to keep a smile from forming on my lips.

By the time we say goodnight and hang up thirty minutes later, I feel like I'm floating.

I love talking to him.

As I walk into my bathroom to get ready for bed, my phone dings with another text from him.

School.

Jayce.

Together.

Shit.

I realize with a start that tomorrow, everyone will know. Everyone will see that Jayce Solis is dating an unknown. Me. There'll be no disguising it, and no way for me to hide myself from the stares and unrelenting gossip. My mind starts to spin as I imagine Layla plotting my demise.

I've preferred to live under the radar, and I've gotten away with it all my life. But I'm certain that my choice in boyfriend is going to change that, considering he's practically a local celebrity. I don't want dating Jayce to change a lot about my life... yet somehow, I get the feeling that it's inevitable.

But if attention, stares, judgment, rumors and gossip is the cost of being with him? Bring it on.

I'll make tomorrow my bitch.

~~~

What do you think Jayce has planned for their date?? 🤔 share yo ideasssss ! 💡

Also, I've gotten several requests for chapters from Jayce's point of view...

I tried writing one a bit ago but didn't really like how it turned out. That doesn't mean I can't keep trying until I'm pleased with it, though! SO. If I was to do a Jayce POV... what moments would you want to see?? 🤗

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