Chapter 8 Comfort Food
Chapter eight
Comfort Food
Marigold Belmore
My heart is pounding in my chest as I walk across the parking lot to where Shepherd and Jasmine are waiting for me in Shepherd’s truck.
The arena is a few blocks away from campus, so we all rode together instead of trekking through the frigid early-February air.
I offered to drive separately so they wouldn’t have to wait on me, but Shepherd insisted it was fine.
Jasmine hops out of the truck as I approach. One look from her makes my chin quiver. She opens up her arms and I fall into her hug. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla envelops me. Jasmine rubs my back as I cry.
“I hate crying.” I hiccup against Jasmine’s shoulder.
“That probably means you should do it more,” Jasmine replies in a soft voice. “Why don’t we get in the truck? You’re shaking.”
I’m not sure if that’s from the cold.
You’ve broken promises. Why can’t I? The words echo inside my head as though they’ve been screamed inside a cavern. To say I broke a promise when he’s the one who hurt me … unbelievable. That’s what it is.
“Yeah, okay,” I mumble, and climb into the backseat.
Jasmine joins me instead of sitting up front with Shepherd. I don’t have the energy to insist she do otherwise.
“This is about Jameson?” she asks gently.
I nod.
“Do you want to talk about it? We can wait until we get home if that’s better,” Jasmine suggests.
“For the record, I won’t say anything,” Shepherd says as he starts to back out of the parking spot. “Also, I can fight him if you want. He’s big, but I think I could take him.”
I laugh and swipe at my tears.
“I don’t know that I would offer something like that without seeing him fight.”
“For one of Jasmine’s friends, I’d do it.” Shepherd gives a determined nod.
“If anyone is fighting him, it’s me,” I say with a sigh. “Though I’m running out of energy to do it.”
“There’s this thing called sleep,” Jasmine says meaningfully. “You should try it.”
“I sleep.” My tone is half defensive, half in jest. “Just not the recommended amount.”
Jasmine shakes her head while Shepherd chuckles.
“Back to the subject, what happened? Did he say something to hurt you?” she asks.
I look down, fiddling with my notebook.
“He just brought up some things from the past. He wants to talk, but I don’t. His actions said plenty when he stole the internship.”
Jasmine hums. I watch her meet Shepherd’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Don’t even try to give me some lecture about how you two had to learn to communicate. It’s different,” I insist, which only makes me think of my conversation with Jameson.
“I didn’t say anything,” Jasmine replies.
“You didn’t have to,” I grumble, making her laugh.
She throws an arm around me. “I won’t say anything. Just know we’re on your side, and if you do ever try talking to him, we’ll be here no matter how it goes.”
“Thanks, Jaz.” I look at Shepherd. “You too, Shep.”
“Let me know if you ever want to take me up on my offer to fight him.”
Jasmine reaches up and hits his shoulder.
“What is with you wanting to fight people?” she asks with an exasperated tone.
Shepherd shrugs. “Football season is over. I need to get my aggression out somehow.”
“You’re a quarterback! You don’t hit people during the season.”
“I hit someone last season,” Shepherd points out. I can see part of his grin.
“That was a guy at a party,” Jasmine replies incredulously.
I laugh at the memory. Some creep was harassing us at a party last year, and Shepherd punched him, then forced him to leave. It was awesome.
“No fighting people,” Jasmine commands. “I don’t need you getting hurt. I worry enough while you’re on the field.”
“Don’t worry about me, Chef. I’m untouchable.”
“Not a chef,” Jasmine chides.
“Yet,” Shepherd replies, throwing a smile over his shoulder.
The two of them are already insufferably adorable, but adding their nicknames on top makes them a whole other level of nauseating. I’m a romantic at heart—deep, deep down—and I’m happy for my friends, but it’s not fun to be their third wheel in moments like this.
“Anyway.” Jasmine turns back to me. “I’ve got a slice of apple pie with your name on it back at the apartment. There’s homemade ice cream in the freezer, too.”
Comfort food, what Jasmine does best. I muster up a smile for her as we pull into the campus parking lot.
My heart is still aching, but it’s a little less raw now that I’m with my friends.
Hopefully Aurora and Saylor are still up.
I haven’t gotten to see them all day. Our busy schedules make it difficult to catch us all in the same room at the same time.
“Can I come up?” Shepherd asks, sounding like he’s already dreaming about the pie.
“I gave you a whole pie yesterday and a pint of ice cream. Don’t tell me you and Owen ate it all already.
” Jasmine tries to sound disapproving, but the lightness in her voice betrays her.
She loves it when people enjoy her food.
Being a member of the clean plate club is a surefire ticket to her heart.
“Zion had a slice too,” Shepherd says, as if that makes eating an entire pie in less than twenty-four hours excusable.
“I don’t know how y’all can eat that much. I’m an athlete too, but I just can’t do it,” Jasmine laughs.
I remember the days when I used to go to the diner after school with Jameson.
We’d get ice cream floats to reward ourselves after a big exam.
He’d order what felt like half the menu to go with his.
Athlete appetites are no joke. I open the door closest to me once Shepherd parks and then slide out.
Thinking about ice cream floats wasn’t the best idea.
It only serves to make me think about the fact that I haven’t had one in almost a year.
It would be weird to get one without Jameson. I’m not sure I could do it.
“We need girl time,” I hear Jasmine say as I walk around the front of the truck.
She’s standing by the driver-side window, head craned to look up at Shepherd.
“I’ll bring you something to class tomorrow,” she promises, hopping up on the step bar to give him a quick kiss.
“Deal,” Shep says. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”
“Love you too,” she replies before giving him another kiss.
I look away, biting the inside of my cheek. Seeing them kiss makes me think of that stupid night Jameson tried to bring up. The one that was the first step toward our ruin.
“Ready for apple pie?” Jasmine infuses her voice with cheer.
“I might need a Shepherd portion,” I say, making her laugh.
“I can make that happen, if the other girls haven’t gotten into it while we’re gone.”
Jasmine links an arm with mine as we head toward our apartment.
Shepherd dropped us off in the parking lot closest to our building, so it’s thankfully not a long walk.
I still haven’t gotten warm from interviewing Conrad in the cold.
He was a nice guy and made it easy, though it was difficult to concentrate when I could feel Jameson’s eyes on me the whole time.
He stood with Nash and a few other players off to the side, but I know he wouldn’t have stuck around if it wasn’t for me.
We make it up to the apartment and find Aurora and Saylor in the living room. Saylor is in her typical study spot on the floor, while Aurora is curled up beneath a blanket. One of the Barbie movies is on the TV, which I’ve come to realize is Aurora’s comfort movie of choice.
“Long day?” I ask Aurora as I drop down on the couch next to her.
I’d offer to help Jasmine, but she likes to plate everything a certain way even when it’s just for the roommates.
“My teacher made us stay an extra hour because our turnouts weren’t up to her standards. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow,” Aurora answers in a tired voice. “You?”
I sigh. “The Traitor.”
Aurora nods in understanding. Saylor perks up, dropping a highlighter lid out of her mouth as she asks, “What did he do this time?”
“I don’t have the energy to get into all of it,” I say.
“I understand. If you want to talk later, I’m here,” Saylor replies with a smile.
That’s one of many things I love about all my roommates.
They might push me sometimes, but most of the time, they let me share on my own terms. Which is something I need for the situation.
Especially because sometimes I still doubt if I was right to cut Jameson off.
I rub my face with my hands. It’s hard not to wonder, when we were friends for so long.
But it was going to end at some point. Might as well have been when he hurt me.
His actions should have made it easier, but they didn’t.
“One plate of emotional-support pie,” Jasmine says and I drop my hands to find a slice of pie the size of my head with a huge scoop of ice cream and a hearty drizzle of salted caramel.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her and take it.
I can tell by the warm plate that she must have microwaved it first. My first bite is luxurious. I close my eyes.
“What are men to pie and ice cream?” I ask around a bite.
The girls laugh, thankfully getting my reference due to me showing them the Pride and Prejudice movie last week.
Aurora offers me some of her blanket, and I curl up beneath it, throwing my attention toward the movie on the TV instead of my life.
Barbie: Fairytopia is a much better use of my brain cells.
Jasmine heads back into the kitchen to get more plates of pie, and all starts to feel right again.
Far away from Jameson, it’s easier to breathe.
To calm my spiraling thoughts. To just be.
Funny how it used to be the opposite. He used to be the one to make me feel at peace.
I guess all good things have to come to an end, eventually.