Chapter 15
Facing the Rumors
Emily
Three weeks later...
While Jon used spring break to get back on track to graduate this summer, the Shields invited me to a small cottage they’d rented in the remote countryside of Arkansas. The police couldn’t find any leads on Paul’s attacker, so the idea was to get him out of town for a few days.
Jon wasn’t thrilled about the prospect. He showed up in the middle of the night and tried to convince me to stay with him instead. But it was important for me to go—not only for Paul, but for Gena, Henry and Zack.
Jon’s worries turned out to be for naught. Paul and I learned how to rebuild our friendship from scratch. We took strolls through town, made dinner together, played card games with Gena and Henry late into the night. He was even super eager for me to stay in America. He kept asking if there wasn’t another way than marriage, and I kept telling him no.
All in all, it was the perfect family getaway. Only Zack was less animated; he was constantly on his phone texting someone. He said it was no one, but then on the last night he couldn’t stop talking about a girl named Helen. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about it. Zack was experiencing his first real crush.
As fast as spring break came, it went again—and I still hadn’t told Jon about my reputation at school. The lunch bell rang and the hallway filled with people.
“Are you ready?” Jon extended his hand toward me and my throat went dry. Two girls had already fixed their gaze on us, whispering with mischievous glints in their eyes.
“Jon, maybe we shouldn’t go through with this yet,” I said.
“You say you don’t want to but you’re smiling.” Jon brushed his thumb against my cheek.
“No.” I shook my head. “I can’t do this.” I turned to escape down the hall, but I didn’t get far. Jon’s hand swiftly wrapped around my arm.
“Little German.”
“Jon, please!” I tried to shake him off. “I’m allowed to say no.”
He sighed, then guided me into the nearest room. We were in the janitor’s closet he’d pulled me into only a few months back, when I wanted to make sure our Halloween kiss would remain a ghost to everyone but us. It felt like a lifetime ago. The room was still the same though. Cleaning supplies, mops, little to no space. Jon’s hot breath landed on my cheek.
“I don’t get it.” He skimmed his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair. “I want to show everyone that you’re mine, but you barely even look at me when we’re at school. Are you ashamed to be with me?”
“No! It’s not that.”
“Then what? Is it because of Paul? We gave him time.”
I bit my lip. Paul was part of the reason. Despite the progress we’d made in our friendship, I didn’t want to test it. “I still don’t feel comfortable being all couply in front of him,” I said.
Jon huffed and leaned back against the wall. “I don’t buy his ‘let’s be friends’ line.”
“I do,” I said firmly.
“Then why can’t I hold your hand at school?” Jon’s voice grew more agitated. “Please, Little German. I want to respect your boundaries, but I need to understand.”
I was trapped. No dodging the question now. “When people see you with me, they’ll laugh at you,” I admitted, my voice filled with shame.
“Huh?” Jon grimaced. “Why the hell would they laugh at me? You’re the prettiest girl at school. They’d envy me.” He stroked my cheeks, making them flush with warmth.
A stupid grin crawled into my cheeks. “I’m the prettiest girl at school? Really?”
“Damn it,” he muttered. “You definitely are.”
I giggled. “I think you’re a bit biased as my boyfriend.”
My heart fluttered. This was the first time I’d said out loud that Jon fucking Henry Denson was my boyfriend. A wide grin spread on his face: he’d noticed it too.
“No one comes even close to you, Little German. I mean, this face?”
He kissed both of my cheeks.
“This golden angel’s hair?”
He ran his fingers through my hair and tugged at the ends.
“That ass.” He smirked and squeezed my butt, rucking up my dress a bit.
“And especially, those eyes.”
He stared right into me. I leaned in to kiss him—but he backed off.
“You still owe me an explanation. A kiss for an answer. How does that sound?”
I groaned and rested my head against a cupboard. “You’re not playing fair...”
“I never said I was.” He tilted my face with his thumb so I was forced to look at him. I swallowed hard. He’d got me right where he wanted me.
“While you were in rehab... there was a lot of gossip about me. Madison told everyone about my breakdown. And the news spread that I cheated on Paul with you. Plus, apparently, I slept with four other random guys I don’t even know or was just being nice to. When people see that we’re together, they’ll laugh at you.”
“Who?” Jon growled. “Who said you slept with them?”
I sighed. “It doesn’t matter, Jon. Really. I don’t care what they’re saying anymore, but I care about you being dragged into it. You don’t need any more stress.”
Jon cupped my cheeks. “I can’t stand people spreading lies about my girl. I’m not ashamed of you; I’m fucking proud to be with you. They should all know that you’re mine. I don’t care what kind of crap they’re saying. We know the truth. You and me, that’s all that matters.”
My knees practically buckled. I would never get used to Jon saying things like that. It was too perfect to be true—except that it was true. I swung my arms around his neck and went for the kiss I had to fight for.
His lips closing over mine—so smooth and warm, I could stay connected to them forever...
Jon smiled when we broke away. “Ready now?”
“Yes,” I said, but there was a tremor in it.
We walked out of the janitor’s room, and immediately all eyes fell on us. People must think we did more than kiss in there. My heart shuddered, but Jon draped his arm around my shoulder and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “It’s you and me,” he reminded me. And then he kissed me on the mouth.
Suddenly I didn’t care about anyone else but us.
Even whoever was applauding?
We pulled apart, slightly startled. Mr. Stacey—or as we called him, Mr. Yellowtooth—stood in the doorframe, clapping his hands. “Finally, you two!” exclaimed our former detention supervisor. “I’ve been waiting for this moment!” He cackled weirdly, exposing his yellowed tooth. “Don’t you want detention? I’ve been missing someone to play chess with.”
Jon tugged at my arm. “Sorry, man, but nope.” We both laughed and hurried away. “Watch out,” Jon teased, “or he’ll think you’re flirting again.”
“Ew!”
We continued down the hall, not caring who saw us anymore.
With time the whispers faded, and I knew the worst was over. That day, Jon taught me that the best way to not get bad-mouthed was simply to not give a shit.
His words, not mine.