Friended

by Kilby Blades

  "Morning, Jag," I said, suddenly shy.

  “Morning, beautiful girl," he murmured, stepping in close. "Are hugs of greeting permitted between friends?"

  No.

  "Yes," I whispered, breathless.

  He bent to wrap his arms around me, lifting me up against his chest, holding me in a long embrace while my feet dangled six inches off the ground. His nose buried in my hair, his almost inaudible sighs of contentment, and the way every inch of his body pressed against mine were delicious reminders that we were so much more.

  "I brought you breakfast," I said, as he set me down, and turned toward Zoë’s back bumper.

  I watched for his reaction. He smiled crookedly the second his eyes fell on the box.

  “Golden Grahams?” He raised an eyebrow, but looked impressed. "Organic milk?"

  I shrugged at the same time I produced my dad’s plastic camping bowl and spoon from behind my back. "You're fancy like that."

  He smiled softly. “This is incredibly sweet."

  I shrugged again and he picked up the cereal as well as the quart of milk. Walking both of us to his car, he sat on his hood and I helped him help himself.

  “Want a bite?”

  "Oh, no." I shook my head.

  He threw me a heart-stopping smile.

  "Humor me, friend. You know how I love to feed you."

  But Jagger and I could never be just that to one another. Maybe we never had been. Taking things slowly with Jagger would be harder than I thought.

  Jagger

  It took a great deal of discipline not to use my tongue to clean the errant smudge of cereal-sweetened milk that had settled on the corner of Roxy's mouth. But I would play along.

  As if Roxy could ever be anything less than my love, I thought, relishing her exquisite blush as I used my finger instead. From the slight slackening of her jaw as she watched me lick the dab of milk from my fingertip, I hoped she felt the same.

  "Can I carry your books to homeroom?"

  If you had told me three weeks ago I'd be letting a girl carry my books, I'd have driven myself to the hospital for a head check. But this was Roxy and her tiny apologies were endearing. I handed her my dark-green messenger bag and watched in amusement as she shouldered hers and mine. After she let me hold the doors open for her, I stuffed my hands in the pocket of my jeans.

  "Did you sleep well last night?"

  Our classmates studied us unabashedly as we made our way into the schoolhouse and down the hall. Small talk was a far cry from the flirting we would normally be doing.

  "Like a baby. How could you tell?"

  She smiled when she answered.

  "You look a lot better than you did last night."

  When we stopped in front of my homeroom, I couldn't stop the much-more-than-friendly words from flowing.

  "Last night I got back something I lost."

  She swallowed thickly, but didn't break our gaze. "I didn't mean to scare you. And you never really lost me."

  "Good," I said gruffly, my throat constricting at the thought. "I hope I never do."

  "Have a good day, Jag," she whispered, but didn’t move. I was dying to kiss her lips.

  "You, too Roxy." I recovered my bag, and smiled as convincingly as I could before entering the room.

  Thirty-five minutes later, first period was dragging when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Being especially discreet as I checked for a message, I muted my grin when I saw the text was from her.

  Roxy: 18-36-2

  I had no idea what it meant.

  Jagger: -20?

  …to which she shot back:

  Roxy: Not arithmetic. My locker combination.

  I smiled, and quickly texted back.

  Jagger: Danger is your middle name, Vega. Do you know what I could do with information like this? (Hint: raid your secret Skittles supply at will)

  My subdued laugh earned me a glare from the teacher. I wiped the smile off my face. It was only my second day back since the end of my suspension and I was in enough trouble as it was.

  When the bell rang, I took my time gathering my stuff and slinging my bag over my shoulder. There was no reason for me to hurry since my next class was right next door.

  “You told me the Skittles were a lucky guess…"

  My head shot up at the sound of her voice. Her first and second period classes were in a different building. She looked slightly winded, as if she had rushed to reach me so soon, which, of course, made perfect sense.

  "I pretended not to know you loved Skittles so you wouldn't think I was a stalkerish freak. But, Roxy, I won't lie to you anymore."

  Then she surprised the hell out of me.

  "I know you won't. I gave you the combination to my locker because I trust you."

  And suddenly it clicked.

  "If it's any consolation," she continued, walking towards me and the middle of the room, "some of my own actions might have been considered to be slightly stalkerish as well."

  "Is that so?" I raised a hopeful eyebrow, walking towards her myself until we were separated by only a desk.

  "Only if looking at all the photos you're tagged in on Instagram, like, a thousand times, qualifies as stalkerish."

  "Oh, Miss Vega, it most certainly does. But it's nothing compared to how obsessively I checked to see whether you had updated your status."

  We stood there for a minute, kind of smiling at each other, until she closed the distance between us by walking around the desk. Instinctively, my head dipped, my face gravitating towards hers, though I managed to refrain from acting on my almost-constant need to taste her lips.

  "Isn't it nice?" She held me prisoner with gorgeous, imploring eyes.

  "Isn't what nice?" My voice was suddenly gritty.

  She reached out her little hands to slide my messenger bag off of my shoulder.

  Smiling sadly, she said, "The truth."

  Thirty-Three

  All of Me

  What’s going on in that beautiful mind?

  I’m on your magical mystery ride.

  And I’m so dizzy, don’t know

  what hit me, but I’ll be alright.

  -John Legend, All of Me

  Roxy

  Unsurprisingly, the entire student body quieted down the second Jagger and I strode, together, into the cafeteria. Between our conspicuous absences and the Dan Wesley incident, our relationship remained under a microscope. We'd gotten stares all morning and folks were no doubt dying to know what was going on. And our current arrangement was bound to cause even more confusion.

  Though Jagger had technically respected my "friends for now" request from the night before, it was clear that maintaining this boundary was difficult. He couldn't keep his eyes off of me, his hug that morning had not been innocent, he'd come this close to kissing me twice, and it wasn't even noon. It gave me sick satisfaction that he was having so much trouble, but the truth was, so was I.

  Which is why you have to follow your plan of letting the whole truth come out. He has to be as rational as possible when he decides.

  "So we were thinkin' about heading up to Littleton after school since the posse's back together," Gunther started once Jagger and I arrived at the table. Deck, Annika, and Zoë were already there. "See a movie, maybe grab some dinner?"

  "Actually…." Jagger cleared his throat, looking nervously at me "Thursday is my volunteer day at the hospital. I go there to cuddle babies."

  Three jaws dropped.

  "You told me he was an orderly!" Declan exclaimed, glaring a little at Annika, who just rolled her eyes.

  "Dude, babies?" asked Gunther.

  Meanwhile, Zoë clapped her hands together and exclaimed "You cuddle babies? Jagger, that is just too sweet!"

  Heedless of the other reactions, Jagger looked at me as if to say "See? I can be an honest guy." A smile bloomed on my face and then one took to his and I was soon sure we sported matching goofy grins.

  "It's almost as sweet as the work Gunther does at the hound pupp
y rescue!" Zoë gushed, linking her little body under Gunther's arm and snuggling in close to her man.

  Gunther looked both sheepish and mildly defensive as he shrugged. "Those little guys need good homes."

  Not wanting to embarrass Gunther, I ate a tater tot to hide my smile. It really was extremely cute.

  "Dude, puppies?" Jagger mocked good-naturedly, play-punching Gunther in the arm.

  Not wanting to be left out of all the adoration being heaped on his friends, Declan finally chimed in "I slip the dirty old geezers porn when I volunteer at the old folks home!"

  Even Annika cracked up at that.

  Jagger

  Seeing as how I'd missed so much school, I should've been paying attention. Yet I found that all I could focus on was the heat of Roxy's body next to mine. It was a wonder I knew anything at all about civics for the way she had always broken my concentration.

  …like she's doing right now

  Though we sat side by side, I missed playing with her, missed our banter of exchanged texts and passed notes. But I gave her her space. After all, it wasn't as if she were ignoring me. Each time I was tempted to flirt, I reminded myself the difference between winning the battle and winning the war.

  While scribing a particularly incoherent notation from Mr. McAbee’s droning narrative, I caught a moving scrap of notebook paper out of the corner of my eye.

  I have a confession to make.

  When I glanced at her curiously, she looked sheepish. Pulling the paper back to her side, she scribbled another note and slid it over.

  I knew about the cuddling. Annika told me, and I kind of watched you in action on Tuesday.

  She bit her lip in nervous anticipation of my reaction. I wrote back quickly.

  I thought that was you.

  Her jaw slackened slightly at her surprise at my answer. Now it was my turn to pull the paper back to my side and scribble another note.

  Roxy, when you're near me…I can feel you. On Tuesday I got the feeling I get when you're around. I thought it was just wishful thinking, but…

  Her expression changed and I worried that I’d done it again. While she sat, unmoving, for a long moment, I berated myself for still being fail on the difference between welcome honesty and creepy TMI. I might not have breathed as I tried to sneak glances as she penned her response.

  I know what I said last night, but…we really need to talk.

  My heartbeat quickened at her note, and at the look on her face. "We really need to talk" did not sound good. For the first time since she'd shown up beneath my window, I was scared. Paranoid, perhaps, but I didn't trust my hands not to write a desperate plea for our talk not to be "the breakup talk" so instead I simply nodded. But, we didn't break eye contact. Indeed, our look was the most intense one we'd ever shared. It melted from unreadable to vulnerable to Roxy's special brand of determination.

  "Mr. Monroe, Ms. Vega, under normal circumstances I'd have you consult your lab partner to catch up on the material you missed. But, since you've both been absent for the greater part of the week, I strongly advise you to pay attention."

  I slid my gaze away from hers, even though not being able to read her was like cutting off my blood supply. If not for Mr. McAbee’s reprimand, we might have gazed at each other like that for the rest of class.

  Roxy

  Ten minutes after the end of Civics, I had traversed the quad and was slipping into the woods. Jagger's abilities had proven themselves again and he had dazzled the powers that be. That we would only miss his study hall and my gym made me slightly less guilty about practically demanding that we talk.

  I wasn't immediately sure what had happened back there, only that his comment had set something off. By measure of truth-telling, the friendship plan was progressing as it should. It was only the sub-plan—the one that dictated that I not fall in love with him any harder in the process—that was blowing up in my face. Some part of me really did want both of us to start telling the truth. Yet, whereas my truth would probably drive him away, his truth was making me fall harder.

  If he leaves me, I won't survive.

  Not wanting to be seen disappearing into seclusion together, we were staggering our retreat. I walked back pretty far, past where the stoners went to get high, past the large boulder everyone called “makeout rock”. I didn't worry about getting lost, or about Jagger knowing where I was, for I could hear his soft footfalls closing in behind me. I stopped in a clearing of fallen trees, waiting until he was so close I could feel his breath.

  "I can't do this anymore," I whispered. "I thought we could be friends, but, I—I want to be more, but I can't 'til you know the truth."

  Wringing my hands, I gathered the courage to turn around and face him. His sage-colored eyes were a storm of pain, hope and fear. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his demeanor reminded me of a person who was bound.

  "You still want to be more than friends?" he asked uncertainly, his voice mirroring the emotion in his eyes. "I'm trying so hard to be honest with you, Roxy, but sometimes I'm afraid the truth of how I feel is exactly what's scaring you away."

  I took a terrified breath and prepared to hit Jagger with the ultimate act of honesty: cutting all the other bullshit and telling him what I was really afraid of.

  "It does scare me," I whispered. It was all my weak voice would allow. "Only because I'm afraid it's the things I let you believe—the things that aren't true—that make you like me so much. And I think if you knew all of me, you may not like me at all."

  He stepped an inch closer, his eyes softening a bit, though he had not let down his guard.

  "So tell me, Roxy. Tell me all the things you think will drive me away. But I already know the outcome. Nothing will change the fact that I have fallen completely in love with you.”

  It hurt me to hear him say the words, injured me to think he might rescind them once he knew the score. But there was no turning back, so I surrendered to what I had come there to explain.

  "I'm damaged goods.” My voice still failed to manage anything above a whisper. "The story I told you last night only scratched the surface. Being with you—even seeing your parents together—showed me that everything I think about relationships is backwards. I tried to be a good girlfriend, but I didn't even last a week without totally freaking out. And I'll probably screw up again, too."

  He was standing so close, peering down at me with intoxicating intensity.

  "I'll forgive you," he said with frightening conviction.

  My voice chose that moment to re-emerge, shaking peculiarly in protest as it rang.

  "This is serious, Jagger. It's worse than you think. You know the whole thing that started our fight? I gave you hell because Declan friended me, but the truth was, it wasn't even me who accepted the request—it was Zoë."

  He didn't even flinch.

  "If you could, would you undo what Declan and Zoë did?"

  I shook my head.

  "Then I don't care."

  I scoffed in disbelief.

  "Would you care that I judged you for being a manwhore, when I'm far from innocent myself? People here assume I'm a prude, but I fooled around with boys in L.A. Like, a lot.”

  But the expression on his face didn't change.

  "What do you want me to say, Roxy? That this makes me think less of you? I always knew you had secrets. Don't you get that I love you because we're the same?"

  I couldn't breathe.

  "The depth of your eyes, the sadness in your smile…” He whispered the next part. “…your music…before I met you, I didn't know there was anyone else like me."

  He was even closer now, his body ghosting against mine, his fingers gently stroking my jaw.

  "Before you, I couldn't remember the last time I really laughed. Or wrote a song, or hoped that my life could be like this."

  His eyes had softened to something so heartbreakingly vulnerable that I let my own fall shut. And just when I thought I would implode from not being able to contain my emotion
, he wrapped his arms around me before I tore myself apart.

  "I don't care how many skeletons you have in your closet," he choked out in my ear. "I see your beautiful heart and I just want you to love me back."

  I let out a breathless sob as I hugged him in return. The wetness on my temple wasn't rain. I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear,

  "Don't you get how much I do?"

  Epilogue: Thinking Out Loud

  People fall in love in mysterious ways.

  Maybe just the touch of a hand.

  Me I fall in love with you every single day.

  And I just wanna tell you I am.

  -Ed Sheeran, Thinking Out Loud

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  The forecast was for an unprecedented seventy-two degrees, a veritable heat wave for May in Rye. On any other warm Saturday we would have already been somewhere worshipping the returned sun, but today was the one day this spring that Trinity High would become a test center for the SATs. That's how me and every other junior bent on getting the hell out of this town found ourselves spaced strategically far apart among the long library tables. We filled in tiny ovals with #2 pencils when not staring longingly outside.

  If the graph of the function f is a line with slope 2, which of the following could be the equation of f?

  I remembered the y = mx + b rule and looked for the right answer.

  y = 4x - 2

  y = 2x + 4

  y = -2x -2

  y = .5x +2

  y = -.5x + .5

  I filled in the oval corresponding with the second answer. Looked like all those hours that Roxy and I had spent studying in my room had paid off after all.

  Roxy. My eyes shifted toward where she was sitting, near the front corner of the room. That I was flying through the test gave me time to study the line of her profile. For a long moment, I took slow survey of her concentrated brow, the way her mouth played at the end of her pencil when she wasn't writing an answer, and that damn beanie she would probably still wear even if she had on a bathing suit and it was July.