Chapter 13 #4
“If I’m being honest, all of my dates sucked, ours included.
But the date with Arthur and the date with Chad sucked less because of you.
You’ve saved my ass a bunch of times, even though you acted like it killed you to do so, but I appreciate it nonetheless.
You coach your little sister’s soccer team and stomached a date with me, someone you hated, for her.
You help a bunch of terrified ninth graders feel comfortable with the new math curriculum for free, and you don’t allow the Preston Whitmores of the world to be assholes to people you care about.
” I think about the way he acts with me, then continue, “You know how to piss me off but make me laugh in the same breath, and you have an intimate knowledge of my obsessive panty-to-outfit matching, which, like I said, both pisses me off and makes me laugh. You brought me here when no one else would, even though I didn’t ask you to, and even though you clearly don’t care about any of the art.
I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t completely hate you; you’re kind of cool.
And I’m glad we’re . . . friends?” It comes out as a question, because he hasn’t confirmed it after I said it earlier.
Jay gives nothing away as he nods thoughtfully. “See? Don’t you feel better now?”
I consider it, consider the words shared between us, the words I didn’t hold back, the honest conversation we had with each other. We’ve cleared the air between us, and now I know exactly how he feels, and he knows exactly how I feel. “Yeah. I do, actually.”
He nods. “Good. Now just do that with your friends.”
It would be nice to feel this with all my relationships, but I’m not sure I can be that honest with Kalani, or even Emi.
Not everyone is like Jay, who prompts honesty no matter what, whom conversation flows easily with, and who always pulls the truth out of me.
I’m not sure it would be this easy with my friends, and the thought makes me sad.
“Your turn,” I say. “What do you think about me now?”
Jay doesn’t answer, instead turning to the canvas in front of us. This one is splattered with different shades of pink, and a bunch of shapes are painted on top with no real rhyme or reason in different colors.
“What do you think it means?” Jay asks, tilting his head and leaning forward a bit.
“Again, it’s not supposed to mean anything. The real question is, how does it make you feel?”
He settles in his seat and rests his arm on the back of the bench. It’s so close to being around my shoulders that my heart stutters and my breath hitches. I tuck myself into his jacket and try not to consciously think about his spicy, fresh smell surrounding me from all angles.
“Maybe Boscoe will come back next year. Then you’ll have more insight after a year of school and you can explain it to me,” Jay says, tilting his head the other way as if he was missing something at that specific angle.
“Why would a year of business help me understand this painting?”
His head snaps over to look at me. “Business? You’re not taking art?”
The way he’s studying me makes me blush, so I pull some hair from behind my ear and let it hang between us as a curtain as I stare straight ahead.
“Nope. Business at Toronto Metropolitan.”
“Huh. I would’ve thought you wanted to do art.”
“I do, you just have to be really good at it, and I’m . . . not?” It comes out unsure and as a question when Jay lifts an eyebrow at me.
“You don’t seriously believe that.”
“You’ve never seen my art. You don’t know if it’s good or not.”
He considers this for a moment before he shrugs and looks back at the painting, his cool exterior back in place. “You’re right. It’s probably terrible.”
What? My teeth grind together, and I’m about to shout, I’m not terrible! when I notice a slight waver in his set jaw. He’s trying not to laugh.
“You’re such a jerk.” I slap his arm playfully. “Reverse psychology? You always know exactly how to get under my skin. It’s annoying.”
He smirks. “No, Princess. You’re the one who gets under my skin, and believe me, I know it’s annoying as hell.”
I scoff and continue analyzing the painting when Jay continues, “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen your art, but you shouldn’t count yourself out before you even try. Grab life by the balls, Princess. Tell your friends how you feel. Apply to art school. Don’t go on dates with jerks.”
I laugh at that last part and ask, “Do you grab life by the balls?”
He ponders my question for a second even though I already know the answer. “I’ve certainly never let my friends coerce me into a date with a drug dealer.”
I groan. “You go on one date with a drug dealer and never get to live it down.”
He laughs at my joke then grows serious.
“I’ve never let anything hold me back from getting what I wanted.
I may not be able to afford a Mercedes or Corvette like you and your fancy private school friends, but I make do.
I work and save up my money, get good grades, spend time with my sister, and have fun before I have to start my engineering degree in September.
Life’s about making the most of it, Princess, and you’re going to have to learn when to put your foot down and when to step out of your comfort zone. ”
I shake my head at that last part even though I feel like smiling. We fall into a comfortable silence as I absorb his words, each of us observing the art in front of us while being lost in our own thoughts.
“Where are you going to school for engineering?” I ask eventually, ignoring the way my stomach flips at the thought of it being far away.
“U of T.”
The University of Toronto is near Toronto Metropolitan. We’ll both be downtown. I shove down the elated thrill that runs through me. “Did you always know you wanted to be an engineer?”
He shakes his head. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a firefighter. Rescuing cats out of trees. Chopping through doors with axes. Helping people.”
“You do love helping people.”
His smile is affectionate, and I get lost in the softness of his gaze. My heart stumbles a little. Then his eyes flick down to my lips, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe. He looks away and quickly clears his throat.
“There’s also the fact that I would look incredible posing for one of those half-naked firefighter calendars.”
I laugh, because of course he’d say that. Jay will always be Jay. But it doesn’t stop the flutter in my chest.
“What made you change your mind?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I grew up. Firefighting isn’t exactly the safest job.
And I’ve got a lot of people depending on me.
My parents and Niyah would be crushed if I ran into a burning building and never came back out.
And I’m actually interested in software engineering.
I’d be great at it, and I’d make better money too. ”
He says it so casually, but it hits me how thoughtful he really is.
Responsible. Driven. Not the cocky jerk I first thought he was.
Jay’s more than just the guy I banter with or roll my eyes at when he’s being snarky.
He’s someone who thinks about others, whether it be the scared ninth graders, the nervous coworker he’s training, his sister and her friends, or even me.
Jay’s solid. And he’s thoughtful, and he’s kind, and somewhere along the way, he stopped being the annoying guy I couldn’t stand and turned into someone I genuinely, truly like.
“And besides,” he adds, “my grandparents were immigrants, and they and my parents worked really hard to give us what we have today. I’m the first generation to be able to go university, and that’s really special to me.”
Every time I’m with Jay, I learn so much about him.
I learned more about him today than I probably would’ve if we’d finished our actual date.
I poured my heart out to Jay about everything, and he took me completely seriously.
He didn’t make me feel stupid for thinking my friends are forgetting about me, he didn’t make me feel pathetic for admitting I’m in love with Emmett, and he didn’t make me feel like a failure for not following my heart and going to art school.
Nothing’s been resolved, but I feel better now that I got some stuff off my chest, and I appreciate that I can talk to Jay and not feel judged.
I glance at Jay and study his profile. He really does have a face I’d want to paint, but I’d never tell him that.
Maybe I had him all wrong when we first met, but then again, the guy who pretended to throw me off a cliff is a different guy from the one who just listened to me spill my guts. Jay is a complex guy, and he loves pushing me, apparently, but that might not be a terrible thing.
“Stop staring at me, it’s weird, not that I should expect anything different from you,” he says, his lips tilting up at the corners, causing mine to do the same.
“Shut up,” I scold, biting back my laugh. An hour ago, I was on a terrible date with a drug dealer who skips out on bills, and now I’m here with Jay, in an art exhibit, sharing my deepest secrets and having a heart-to-heart.
“Hey, Jay?” I hesitate when his deep eyes find mine.
“Thanks for tonight, for all of it . . .” I trail off, not wanting to disclose just how much everything he did for me today meant to me.
It started off as a shitty date, and instead of letting me go home to mope after calling my parents to bail me out of a huge bill, Jay made everything okay. Chad feels like a distant memory.
Jay looks taken aback for a second before he masks his emotions. He nods at me then turns back to the painting. “Just let me know whenever you’re done here. There’s only so long I can look at a bunch of random pink shapes.”
I bite my lip and don’t bother telling him that pink is clearly his color, for more than one reason. Instead, I wrap his jacket even more securely around myself and take my time appreciating the art in front of me.
Jay lasts only a few more seconds in silence before saying, “Hey, so, for the panty thing, right . . . what happens if you buy a new outfit and don’t have panties to match?
Do you wear a different pair? A color that’s similar but slightly different?
Do you go out and buy more panties? I have so many questions. ”
I shove him with my shoulder but can’t hide my laugh. His smile matches mine, and we move on to view the rest of the art.
It’s only after Jay drops me off at home and I’m wiping my makeup off that I realize he never told me how he feels about me now, and I really, really want to know.