Jade
Chapter twenty-eight
I'm more nervous than Coop is this morning for his first day at Prudell. Which is on brand, I suppose.
It doesn't help that it's also my first day seeing Mateo since Thanksgiving. The most uncomfortable Thanksgiving of my life. It even beats out the one I spent in the car waiting for James to finish eating with his family.
It was as if we held a broom stick between us, neither of us able to get close to the other. Two magnets, our eyes the same poles, repelling away from each other. Awkward silences hung between not only us, but everyone else too. Even Cooper asked on the way home if Mateo and I were in a fight.
Everything between us has felt off since we made pies and Addie called him out. I hate that we aren't being honest with her, but what am I supposed to tell her?
Sorry Addie, but I'm using your brother for his dick.
But that's not the truth. Not anymore.
Sorry Addie, but your brother feels like a final destination. Like every road is pointing to him and I'm not sure I want to take any more detours.
What am I doing?
I can't. We can't.
This can't.
I take a deep breath and pull through the gate of Prudell Academy. We are so far out of our element here, but Coop's smile is big. He's the happiest I think I've ever seen him. I don't mind standing out, but he's always wanted to fit in, and here he can do that at least in some capacity.
My rusty old sedan is a far cry from the Porsche I park behind in the drop off circle. Maybe I should've asked Mateo to borrow Topanga or his SUV. No. Nope.
Take us as we are Prudell.
"Ready, kid?" I ask, looking at Coop in the rearview mirror.
"So ready," he says, but he's not looking at me. His eyes are wide as he looks up at the impressive building.
We climb out, and the cold bites at our faces. I pull my leather coat around me a little tighter as we walk to the foot of the steps. Coop squeezes me tight and then skips away, following the other kids up the stairs.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to flip them all off. The mothers, not the kids. Every single Katelynn and Michelle standing in a huddle off to the side, staring at me from behind their designer sunglasses.
Instead, I wait.
At the top of the stone steps, Coop turns and waves and walks through the large wooden double doors into an unknown world.
I'm still not sure how any of this happened, but I can't seem to wipe the grin off my face.
His entire world is going to change, but I promise myself to always keep him grounded.
To make sure he's still the same kid when he walks out those doors for the last time.
And that starts with me staying true to myself.
I turn to the gaggle of women and lift my imaginary skirt as I curtsy. Then I climb into my car and shift it into drive, hoping with all my might it will backfire. I want to see them jump.
Sadly, it doesn't.
Oh well, I guess there's always next time.
I should find out about the PTO.
Not for me though, but for Coop. If the mothers hold judgment on me for my car? My leather jacket? The pink ends in my hair? Then I need to be involved enough to make sure it doesn't trickle down to Coop.
Mateo's monster is the only car in the driveway when I pull in.
But that means jack because the four-car garage could be hiding the rest. I know Mateo's Wrangler is in one of them, I parked it there when we got back from Baltimore.
At least that's one other thing I got from James, besides Coop.
I learned how to drive a stick. It took me a bit to get the feel of the Wrangler, it's been years, but before long she and I got along just fine.
I let myself into the house, and am greeted by Mateo pulling me to him, pressing his lips to mine. My treacherous body sinks into his, speeding past the what ifs holding my brain captive. Being five foot nine, I'm not used to feeling small in a man's arms, and it's nice.
I missed him, and I hate how right it all feels.
How my body reacts to him, how he regulates my emotions.
How he makes me laugh. I especially hate how he can't get enough of me.
And not only my body, but me. The real me.
I don't understand why. It's as if he's so hypnotized by what he sees that he's blind to the mess standing in front of him.
It's been four days? Five, depending on how you count?
I deepen the kiss, my tongue sweeping across his, needing more, wishing I could bottle up this feeling.
Mateo breaks our kiss and rests his forehead on mine.
"Am I allowed to say I missed you?" he asks, his voice gentle.
My heart thuds against my chest.
"Am I allowed to say I hate not being able to kiss you whenever I want?" He leans back, studying me. "Or that I crave you when you aren't near me? That I want to know you think about me as often as I think about you?"
I shake my head. Out of everything I hate today, I hate that the most.
"Too late," he says and presses a quick kiss to my forehead. "Also, you need a new car. That thing sounds like a bag of cans pulling into the driveway."
"Yeah well, I don't have enough cash yet," I tell him, pushing past so I can get a much-needed Red Bull out of the fridge.
"Already grabbed you one," he says as I stalk into the kitchen. "It's in the living room."
Of course he did. He can't help himself.
I don't mean to give him a dirty look, but instinct takes over.
Not only did he put it on a coaster, a fucking coaster, but he also opened it. He always opens it.
"What does cash have to do with getting a car?" Mateo asks, sinking into the couch.
I sit as far away as I can.
"Can't get a loan."
He doesn't ask, but I tell him anyway.
"After my dad left, my mom blew through any money we had. After I had Coop, I needed a car. I applied for a loan, but she had destroyed my credit. She opened credit cards under my social, fucking any chance I have of financing anything."
"I can co—"
"No."
"How about a loan?"
"No."
"You can use Top—"
"No."
He gives up, but something tells me this won't be our last conversation about this.
I pull his laptop onto my lap and open it up.
Weeding through his emails is part of our daily routine.
It's hardly anything exciting. Mostly invitations to charity events, which he always declines.
Occasionally there's one about maintenance on his condo, but we both know this job is a fucking sham at this point.
A sham I should be ashamed I'm taking part in.
But I'd be an idiot not to make this the best sham ever.
Coop never has to worry about needing a ride to or from school, and I get to be home at night and on the weekends.
It works around my class schedule, and the pay is ridiculous.
This sham is boosting us forward, and I can't turn that away.
"What is this?" I ask, turning the screen toward him. The browser is open to an application. An application for art school. And not just any art school, but the art school. The one people sell their left tits to get into.
"Before you say no, listen," Mateo says. "You owe it to yourself, and to Coop, to explore your dreams."
"I ca—"
"You fucking can." He raises his voice. "You hate nursing school. I see it all over your face every time you sit down with a book or walk in here with scrubs on."
I open my mouth to stop whatever bullshit he's about to spew next, but he keeps going.
"They started a new program last year. You can pick from two out of like five or six classes and take them à la carte. You still have to apply, and you don't get a degree or anything, but there's one for portraits. It's two thousand dollars a class,"
"Mateo, I fucking can't," I interrupt him.
"You didn't let me finish," he says. "Read the top paragraph."
As part of our community arts initiative, applicants are also encouraged to apply for our "Keep Art Alive" scholarship.
This scholarship covers the fees for two classes, one of the artist's choice and the other will be chosen by admission based on the artist's submitted portfolio.
The scholarship requires proof of financial need and a letter of recommendation from a respected member of your community.
"Do it Jade. You know Mom or Dad will write you a glowing letter."
"How? How did you find this?" I ask, bewildered.
He shrugs. "I hate watching you conform to something you're not. So I searched, and this came up."
"Don't you get it? There's no money in art."
"One step ahead of you," he says. "Click on the other tab."
It's a list of careers in the art field.
Freelance portrait artist
Book illustrator
Gallery assistant
Graphic designer
The list goes on.
For once in my life, I'm speechless. I don't know what I did to deserve this, to deserve him, but I think fate made a mistake somewhere along the way.
"You're good Jade, you know it, I know it. Fucking five hundred thousand people on InASnap know it." He holds up his phone, open to my InASnap account, driving his point home.
"And if I apply and get in and don't get the scholarship?" I ask.
"Then you and I will figure it out."
"Every penny I save has a purpose. I can't take from that."
"But what's your reason?" He smiles because he knows the answer. "It's Cooper, and we both know that if he knew this conversation was happening, he'd already have this filled out for you."
He's not wrong and I add that to my mental list of things I hate. About him. About us. About the inevitable fall out of it all.
Against my better judgment, I fill it out. The worst thing that could happen is I don't get in or don't get the scholarship. But what if I do? Even if I go for fun, and nothing more. What if I get it?
Mateo flips through my InASnap and makes a list of all the pieces he thinks I should include in my portfolio.
The portfolio I only have three days to get together and email over.
The admissions committee will review the electronic submissions and will choose finalists for interviews where we bring the physical portfolio.
I've never put a portfolio together before. I don't even know where to start.
Am I supposed to show my range? Or do I focus on one medium?
I drain the rest of my Red Bull and sigh.
"Mateo, I—"
"Say the word," he says.
"Elephant." The big one in the room. The one keeping me two couch cushions away when I want to be next to him.
Mateo lifts his arm next to his face and waves it, making a trumpet sound like a child might do if you ask them what an elephant says.
Laughter rumbles up my chest from my stomach, leaving my lips in a desperate escape. I can't reign it back in. I can't stop. Tears run down my cheeks, and I double over.
Mateo doesn't laugh with me, but there's a soft smile playing at his lips. I watch as his chest rises and falls in slow measured breaths, and soon my laughter subsides.
"I needed that," I say.
"Is it gone now?" he asks. "The elephant?"
I want to say yes, that whatever awkwardness hanging over us from Thanksgiving has dissipated. But we both know that wasn't the elephant I meant.
I shake my head. There are more elephants standing between us than I can count. Big ones. Literal mountains.
"Maybe we should," I start, but Mateo cuts me off.
"This one," he says, not meeting my gaze. He holds up his phone, and it's one titled "CheckMate." An older couple sits at a chess table in the park, using one hand to move pieces, and the other to hold each other.
Perhaps those elephants can be pushed away a while longer. The excitement from the deleted photo of us seems to have died down a bit. But we also haven't been seen in public together since it was posted. Perhaps we should keep it that way for a bit.
Much to Mateo's dismay, I convince him it's for the best. So we start his Christmas shopping online.
I try not to tell him how to spend his money, but this man is by far the worst gift giver I've ever seen.
Not a single thought has gone into anything he's purchased.
And when I tell him that, he looks like a sad puppy. Like I took his favorite chew toy.
"All of this is just stuff," I tell him. "I guarantee it ends up in a donation pile or a landfill by next Christmas. Find something that won't."
"So that's a no to the giant stuffed animal for the punk?"
I roll my eyes, which seems to be my default reaction to him.
"Kidding," he says. "I already bought him an electric scooter."
I hit him with the pillow between us, and then I'm on my back, hands over my head, his tight grip holding them in place as his body presses me into the couch.
"Can we take a break?" he asks against my lips.
I buck my hips beneath him, my body seeking the friction of his hard cock between my legs.
He sucks my lower lip into his mouth and pushes forward, his tongue tangling with mine.
He rocks his body against me, and I mewl into his mouth.
I tug my wrists free of his grip, threading my fingers into his short beard, dying to feel it between my thighs.
We haven't explored nearly enough of each other, and I want more, but I'm also not above a little dry humping.
We're both caught up in the feeling of our bodies against each other.
Only the fabric of his sweatpants and my leggings are between us, and it might as well be nothing, because my legs tense, and I buck my hips harder against his, letting his cock rub my clit harder and faster.
I sink my teeth into his bicep to keep from crying out as my orgasm takes over my body in waves.
The sound of a garage door opening spurs Mateo into a frenzy, but he doesn't need long. His beautiful blue eyes roll back, and he bites his bottom lip as he comes in his pants.
Mateo and I untangle, both of us flying to opposite ends of the couch as footsteps filter down the hall.
We stare at each other trying to discern whose footsteps are walking our way.
I drop my eyes to his crotch, a dark wet spot staining his pants and toss him the pillow.
He stares at it and then drops it on his lap in a hurry as Charlie rounds the corner.
Fucking elephants.