Friended

by Kilby Blades

  I’d grinned all the way home.

  Between how we’d left things the night before and my dad's advice that morning, my mission was clear: ask Roxy out. But I’d been too nervous at lunch (I wasn't crazy about doing it in front of an audience), and once we got to Civics, I knew it would be lame to do it again via passed note, so I’d played it cool and chatted her up about other stuff. I’d tested her, too, with little touches and gestures, searching for confirmation that she still wanted my attention. By the end of Civics, I’d been fairly certain she'd say yes to my proposition, so I’d asked whether I could walk her to her next class.

  "So, do you have plans on Wednesday? Like, right after school?"

  She’d set her mouth like someone pretending to think.

  "Other than rearranging all the songs on your iPod? No."

  My answering glare had only been half-joking.

  "Don't blow a gasket, Monroe—I'm just kidding."

  "Not funny, Roxanne.” But I was half-smiling now.

  She’d nudged me playfully as we walked.

  "So do you want to hang out with me on Wednesday, or what?" I’d asked feigning mild impatience before softening my voice. "I thought we could chill for a few hours, maybe listen to some music…"

  More than a few passing students had taken notice of us by then, though I’d doubted they could hear our conversation.

  "It depends," she’d said, stopping in front of her classroom.

  "Are you gonna come up with a condition every time I ask you on a date?" I’d asked honestly.

  Her eyes had widened for a second before her face melted into a smile.

  "Tell me your happy song from this morning," she’d demanded.

  That's her condition? I’d shaken my head and smiled.

  "Gimme my iPod," I’d said.

  "No way!" she’d retorted. "I have it 'til Wednesday."

  "So you are going out with me?" I’d smiled.

  "Only if you tell me your happy song," she’d insisted.

  "Then, gimme my iPod!" I’d laughed.

  "Who's on first," she’d stated indignantly.

  Then I’d really laughed. This girl was funny.

  "Roxy," I’d said slowly, as if I were talking to a child. "If you give me my iPod for just a second, I will put the song on for you."

  Recognition had dawned on her face as she’d handed it over, looking sheepish. She’d put the ear buds in as I’d located the song. The bell had been about to ring.

  "See you Wednesday, Roxy."

  Yeah, I know. I'd see her tomorrow. Hopefully chat with her tonight, even. But I’d wanted her to start thinking about Wednesday already—wanted it to consume her every thought like it would consume mine. Her answering blush had sent confidence surging through me.

  This is happening. This is really happening, I’d thought giddily while keeping my cool for her benefit, of course.

  I’d winked as I pressed play.

  Sixteen

  Bad Reputation

  I know I got a bad reputation,

  and it isn't just talk, talk, talk.

  If I could only give you everything

  you know I haven't got…

  -Freedy Johnston, Bad Reputation

  Zoë

  Roxy clutched the door grip as I veered into the Chevron gas station parking lot at a speed that some might consider fast. We were running a little early for school, so I figured I'd fill my tank. I screeched to a stop and hopped out to pump gas.

  No sooner had I tapped my phone to the console to Apple Pay for my gas than did Roxy emerge with a yawn. She really wasn’t a morning person and I didn’t need a crystal ball to know she was headed into the mini-mart for coffee.

  "Tranquilizer shot?" she offered sardonically.

  It had become our little joke. Roxy was too polite not to offer to get me something if she was grabbing something for herself, but she'd officially banned me from caffeine. I flipped her the bird, which earned me a laugh before she turned and walked into the store. I, too, was smiling by the time I chose a high octane grade and stuck the nozzle in the opening of the tank.

  Leaning against my car, I let the gas flow, shifting my eyes to watch my friend as she moved through the store. She's so happy with him, I thought. Her face said it all. Since she’d started flirting with Jag, it had brightened her smile by lumens.

  I didn’t like to be the one to say “I told you so,” but I’d always seen there there was something between them. I hadn't foreseen that it would be this strong. Gunther said he could feel that they were in love. I was certain they'd end up together, but Roxy was still unsure of so many things. Not only with Jagger, that girl had a serious confidence problem. She lived life on the outside, listening to her music and reading her books. She stood on the sidelines at roller derby, cheering us on but never in the game; always a bridesmaid but never a bride. I'd been trying for ages to pull her out of her shell. I liked to think she’d improved in the months she’d been here. But, somehow, Jagger was making a difference.

  A big old noisy truck pulled in on the other side of the filling island, blocking my view of Roxy and the mart. As they exited the cab, I recognized the voices of two boys from our school. I couldn't see their faces from over the station, which meant they couldn't see mine.

  "What do you expect, man? No one had a chance at popping that cherry but Monroe. I'm just glad he's doing it now so the rest of us can have a turn."

  They're talking about Roxy!

  "I don't know, dude. He looks pretty into her. You might be waiting awhile to hit that."

  I stood, mortified, as I heard the little beeps of the machine as one of them pressed buttons and pre-paid to get his gas.

  "Of course he looks into her—it's all part of the act. He can turn it on and off like a faucet. I'd almost admire the guy if he wasn't such a douche."

  My eyes filled up with angry tears, and I prayed that Roxy was still in the store.

  "He's smooth alright, but I still think you're wrong. Sure, he wants to fuck her—shit, everyone wants to fuck her—but dating girls isn't his M.O."

  When the first guy laughed, I had half a mind to walk around the pump and tell them from what. The sound of the metallic click that signaled that my own tank was full interrupted my thoughts. I entertained a brief fantasy of yanking the nozzle free and dousing the assholes on the other side of the pump with gasoline. No need to light them on fire. I'd settle for a chemical burn. By the time I walked around the pump, both of them had moved to walk into the mini mart. I started after them, still bent on giving both a piece of my mind.

  “Don’t.”

  But Roxy’s voice stopped me. I hadn’t seen her come back out. Apparently, neither had they. I knew then we wouldn't make it to first period—that we might not even make it to school. Driving in silence, I took us to an out-of-the-way park. It was too early for moms to be out with their kids. I let her lead the way and wasn’t surprised when she walked us toward the swings. We swayed gently, and I let her begin.

  "I need to you to tell me everything again, Zoë. And, not your interpretation—I need the facts."

  I'd once told her about him, months ago when she’d first arrived.

  "During freshman year, he slept with the Homecoming Queen. They were caught in someone's bedroom, over spring break, at a party. They weren't together—it was just a hookup. But it didn't matter. He was freshman that bedded the most popular girl in school. By graduation, he was running with this kid, James. James wasn't jock-popular—he was bad boy popular. And he taught Jagger everything he knew."

  "It started the summer before our sophomore year, the summer before James' senior year. And it wasn't just Jagger, Roxy—Declan and Gunther got caught up in it, too. I never went to any of their parties or saw anything firsthand. But, whatever did or didn’t happen didn’t look good. I saw one girl Jag supposedly slept with curse him out in the middle of the hallway and another turn a cafeteria tray over his head. It made all the rumors credible. Declan and Gunther got
it to a lesser degree. But the leader always seemed to be Jagger."

  “And James?” Roxy’s expression gave nothing away.

  "James graduated last year. Everyone figured Jagger would become king bad boy, even though he's only a junior. But Declan started dating Annika over the summer, and Gunther and Jagger toned it down. You've only been here for less than a year. People still talk, but it's nothing like it was."

  Roxy didn't speak for a long time, and we both swayed in small circles on the swings. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying more. I knew she had doubts and I itched for her to ask the next logical question. I waited, impatiently, for her to open the door.

  "Why all of a sudden?"

  Huh. I didn't expect that.

  “Gunther's been following you like a puppy for ages," she continued. "But out of the blue, Jagger suddenly likes me. It just doesn't make sense."

  "Don't edit history, Roxx,” I scolded. "I told you for months that Jagger had a thing for you, just like you said the same about Gunther. The only recent thing is that both of them stopped being freaks about it and manned up to ask us out."

  She looked skeptical.

  "But, doesn't it bother you to know that Gunther used to be…"

  She was too polite to say it.

  "A manwhore?" I supplied. "We've talked about it, and he's not proud. But he can't change his past, and neither can Jagger. People aren't perfect, Roxy. But they can change."

  She turned to look at me fully.

  "But what if Jagger hasn't changed? What if he's exactly the same, and I'm just too naive to see it?"

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Jagger is not the same, Roxy. He walks you to class and sends you candy-grams at pep rallies. He hands you coffee and a bagel in front of the whole school. He flirts with you on Instagram and makes you playlists and takes you to concerts most people can’t even get tickets to.”

  "Maybe it's part of the act," she said, her voice empty and mechanical as she quoted gas station asshole number one.

  "Maybe you're different, since dating women isn't part of his standard M.O." I shot back, quoting asshole number two.

  She sighed.

  "Look, Roxy. I know you're scared. But you can't fight the fear with sabotage. You can't write him off or judge him for who he used to be. Decide whether you want him based on who he is today. And, let me venture a guess: you've never caught him in a lie. And he's never done anything suspicious."

  She gave a reluctant nod.

  "Then, stop condemning him, Roxy. Let him be innocent until proven guilty."

  Seventeen

  Shake it Off

  'Cause the players gonna

  play, play, play, play, play.

  The haters gonna hate,

  hate, hate, hate, hate.

  I'm just gonna shake,

  shake, shake, shake, shake.

  I shake it off, I shake it off.

  -Taylor Swift, Shake it Off

  Roxy

  I was trying desperately not to laugh out loud at the things Jagger whispered in my ear, but his running commentary on Gunther and Zoë was too funny. They sat across from us at the lunch table ,heavily immersed in the sickly-sweet oblivion reserved for the deeply in love. Over the past week, we'd witnessed our share of minor PDAs, but they were starting to forget they were in public. At present, Jagger and I were each eating our own slices of pizza while Gunther and Zoë shared the same one.

  "Cheese pizza, $3.00," Jagger said quietly between bites in a commercial announcer voice.

  We watched as Gunther took his own small bite before angling the slice to feed Zoë. I hid my smile behind my napkin, sharing a brief, knowing look with Jagger as I pretended to wipe my mouth.

  "Side of Tater Tots, $2.00," he continued dramatically when Gunther squeezed a thick bead of ketchup from a little Heinz packet onto a crispy tot. Gunther smiled sensually as he pushed it through Zoë's waiting lips and nipped a nonexistent ketchup remnant from his finger.

  By then I was giggling under my breath and looking back at Jagger’s sage-colored eyes which now sparkled beautifully with humor. He had an extraordinary ability to keep his face mostly neutral, which made his hint of a smile even sexier.

  "Pudding cup, $1.50,” he said, his voice still smooth.

  I looked behind my shoulder at the mention of the pudding cup, knowing what was about to happen but needing to see it myself. I felt my chair turn slightly and I realized that Jagger had angled me away from their view, and in doing so pulled me towards him. My tiny gasps as I caught my breath were suddenly filled with more of his scent.

  "Having sex with your clothes on in the middle of a crowded lunch room…"

  My head fell onto his shoulder as I snorted quietly. He now shook in muted laughter.

  "Priceless," he gasped.

  I grasped his forearm, still trying to keep it together. The hard muscle under his soft skin felt better than nice. After collecting myself, I glanced back at Gunther and Zoë. They remained oblivious.

  "Unbelievable," I muttered, wiping an escaped tear and smiling back up at Jagger. His façade had broken, and now he was grinning—that crooked, beautiful grin.

  "I don't know what you two think is so funny," came Annika’s voice from the other side of the table. "You're almost as bad as they are."

  Her lips were curled in her signature smirk. Only Declan was laughing now.

  She was right, of course. Jagger and I had grown close. He almost made me forget my fears. It now felt natural to walk together to class, to text every day and Instagram every night. A few people thought we were collateral to the Gunther and Zoë romance, but to astute observers like Annika, that was clearly not the case. Given that we'd never so much as held hands in public, I'd thought we were being discreet. But, between those assholes at the gas station and Annika’s comment now, I fully grasped that people were taking notice.

  If only it were his past that had sounded alarms. Zoë brushed my other worry aside whenever I mentioned it: Jagger and I had history of our own. It was easy to forget that things between us hadn't always felt so right, but the facts could not be denied: for six months, there'd been nothing. Not a word in Civics class. Barely a civil response to my attempts at being nice.

  Then, suddenly, one day he’d decided he wanted to me my friend. And instead of telling him where he could stick his friendship, I’d let him. The questions remained: What had prompted his change of heart? The easiest assumption to make was that the gossip was true, that people had seen him do this before. It was inconsistent with the Jagger of the past ten days, but it rang possible for the Jagger of the past six months.

  But I couldn’t afford to make hasty assumptions. There was more than just me at stake. The Gunther/Zoë union had married our cliques, and any serious rift between Jagger and me would spell trouble. It made me wish I knew where we stood. I would rather he tell me straight if he was just after a hookup or if he was flirting casually out of sheer boredom. It had occurred to me I may have been the next natural choice for a companion since he'd lost his best friend to mine.

  And what about the other explanation, the one I barely even let myself consider: what if I wasn't just a conquest? What if he wanted more? I'd never had one before, but this was how it was supposed to work. Guys you were attracted to and liked a lot became boyfriends. I hated myself for even wishing for something like that when I had so many other doubts.

  The end of lunch and the walk to Civics were mostly uneventful. I tried to be normal, but these thoughts plagued my mind. Halfway through class, Jagger slipped me a note.

  Are you OK? You're totally spacing.

  I gave him a little nod and tried to smile. Frowning, he took back his paper and scribbled another note.

  Would you tell me if you weren't?

  When I looked back at him, he was blatantly ignoring the lecture, his face worried and maybe a little sad. I grabbed the paper, not wanting to look in his eyes for fear he would see too much.

  Proba
bly.

  It wasn't a lie. This issue aside, I would tell him what was bothering me. Yeah, I'm pretty screwed, I thought again as I pretended to re-engage in the lecture. I pretended not to notice him watching me surreptitiously, pretended I couldn’t practically hear the wheels turning in his head. Minutes later, he wrote another message and slid it to me slowly.

  You can talk to me about anything, Roxy.

  But I couldn’t talk to him about this. I could see the note I might pass back to him now: Do you like me for real or are you stringing me along? No bullshit. Circle one: Yes or No. But instead of writing that note, I just mouthed my thanks, no clearer on what to do.

  Jagger

  It was the middle of seventh period and the end of the day couldn't come soon enough. In ninety minutes, we'd be leaving for our date. I'd spent every free minute that week hanging out, texting, and chatting with Roxy, but I couldn't wait to get her alone. From the time I woke up to the time I fell asleep, she was on my mind. I even spent yesterday afternoon in NICU telling Nick more about her during our cuddle. I'd been dropping hints all week that I wanted to make it official, but I didn't know where we stood.

  Foo Fighters concert notwithstanding, I got the sense she wasn't the PDA type, so I'd kept things at school subtle and clean. But I had started touching her more and coming close into her space, and she never flinched or shied away. No. Roxy blushed when I whispered in her ear; she let me walk her to class. I even carried her books once or twice. She didn't stop me on Tuesday when I snaked fries from her lunch tray, and when she finished her Coke, she started drinking mine.

  As an added bonus, the boys at school seemed to be getting the picture. Her usual cadre of hopeful suitors had backed off. But I got the sense that something was going on with her.

  I'm bored.

  I glanced down at my phone, which had vibrated with a new text from Roxy. When I pictured her bored face, I smiled.

  At least Mr. Fenicle’s class is just boring. Mrs. Berardi's voice grates on my nerves, I replied.