Forty-three

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

When I come home late Wednesday afternoon, the door is already unlocked.

I asked Jen a few weeks ago if she would be comfortable with Jayden getting a key. She agreed.

So as I kick off my heels and patter into the kitchen, I hear the TV playing in the living room. I glance over my shoulder as I pull a bottle of water from the fridge.

Jayden is reclined on the couch, flipping through the channels with one hand and petting Marshmallow with the other.

Jen's cat - my cat - who absolutely hates people is sprawled out on her back on Jayden's lap, purring like a race car while Jayden runs his fingers over her stomach like she couldn't turn into a murder machine in seconds.

That cat doesn't like anyone, she doesn't even like me, but there she is, exposing herself to Jayden.

Traitor.

I head towards them slowly, fighting the urge to cross my arms like a petulant child whose bestie found someone else to play with.

"Hey, Trouble," Jayden says, looking up at me, a lazy smile stretching at his lips. His eyes run down my body slowly. I'm still in my work clothes, which always seems to get Jayden going.

Well, anything seems to get him going these days.

"Hi." I sink down next to him, placing a short kiss on his lips as he snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me into his side.

I lay my head in the crook of his neck, narrowing my eyes at Marshmallow, who's too consumed in Jayden's hands to notice.

Like a little Judas.

"How was therapy?" Jayden asks, kissing the top of my head as he finds the sports channel, setting the remote down.

He asks this every Wednesday. Since we're officially done with the tutoring - Jayden got a B on his term paper, so he's off academic probation - our new rhythm is that I go to therapy after work, and Jayden comes by my apartment after practice.

I never specifically asked him to do that, but he must have sensed that I need him close on these days. Not to talk about it or anything, but just to feel him here, to feel that he loves me.

It grounds me. Soothes me.

I'm turning into a fucking codependent sap, and I don't even hate it.

Typical.

"It was fine," I say, taking a sip of water.

"What did you talk about?"

He asks me this every Wednesday too. I always give him vague and non-committal answers because part of me isn't ready to talk to him about all that yet.

There is so much to unpack, but with Mallory's help, I'm slowly working through it, and for now, I just need to do that without his help.

"Uhm, just the future and stuff," I answer, avoiding his gaze. I can see his head turn to me in my peripheral vision and feel his eyes burning into the side of my head, but I keep my eyes locked on the basketball game on TV.

Eventually, Jayden kisses my temple. "Okay."

We sit quietly watching the game, Jayden pointing out one of the players named Shane Knight. He's tall and agile and apparently good at basketball, and Jayden is explaining how he's one of the best players in the league, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

I am just learning how to appreciate swimming; there is no need to add another sport to the mix. But I do enjoy listening to Jayden talk. He gets so passionate, and it's fucking adorable.

He just asked me what we should get for dinner when the door opens.

We can't see the door from our spot on the couch, yet I still turn my head in that direction. "Jen?"

No answer.

Logically, I know there is no reason for me to panic. She's probably just wearing headphones and can't hear me, but something uncomfortable churn in my stomach, and I strain my ears, listening. I hear her remove her shoes and hang up her jacket. Then she moves across the entryway towards the stairs.

As soon as he comes into view, my apprehension kicks up a notch. Her shoulders are raised around her ears, and her posture is stiff as a board. "Jen?" I ask again, a little louder.

She doesn't acknowledge me at all.

I glance at Jayden, who's watching Jen's back with furrowed brows. "Uh, I gotta..." I point at her retreating figure as I get up from the couch.

"Of course," Jayden answers.

As I ascend the stairs, I realize why this feels so wrong. Because it's eerily familiar. I remember the last time I followed a clearly distressed Jen up these stairs.

That fucking asshole.

I'm gonna castrate him if he hurt her.

I pause for a second, gathering my courage, before pushing Jen's door open.

She's on the bed, her legs pulled up to her chest as she rocks back and forth, tears streaming down her face.

Ohhh, I won't just remove the noodle and pebbles; I'm gonna cut off his nipples with a butterknife.

He'll be one nippleless eunuch.

I fall to my knees in front of her, and her eyes lift to mine, bloodshot and glassy. "What happened?" I whisper, the fear clutching around my windpipes like a steel hand.

She heaves a breath, a small sob escaping her. "I had a fight with David."

Then she covers her face with her hands, crying harder.

Someone is squeezing my heart too. I can't bear watching her in this much pain, not knowing what to do.

I crawl onto the bed, pulling her towards me, wrapping my arms around her frame, and she cries into my chest.

Through broken sobs that rack her body, Jen explains what happened. What they'd been doing, what she's said, what he'd said. When she recollects how he threw her out, my vision turns red as molten lava of anger burns through my bloodstream.

It takes thirty minutes before she quiets down, slumping against me. I lay us down, spooning her and running my hand over her hair for another fifteen minutes until I'm sure she's asleep.

Then I slowly exit the room.

I slip into my bedroom, grabbing a new shirt and my purse before I descend the stairs.

Jayden's in the kitchen, a takeout menu open on the table. "Is thai okay?" he asks, lifting his head, tilting it a bit when he sees me. His eyes sweep over my attire like he can't pinpoint what's different.

"Sure," I say, slipping on my jacket. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Jen? She's asleep, but I want to ensure she's not alone if she wakes up."

He frowns, eyes looking up at the ceiling. He fastens them on me again, scratching his neck. "Yeah, of course." Then as I slip on a pair of high-heeled boots, his eyes narrow. "Where are you going?"

I open the door, looking back over my shoulder at Jayden. "To kill your best friend."

I got a good head start, so I'm already seated behind the wheel of my car when Jayden bursts through the door to the parking garage, hurrying towards me.

He tries to open the car door, but it's locked. When he knocks on the window, I roll it down enough for us to talk together.

"Sophie, please, don't do anything rushed."

"Rushed," I laugh menacingly. "Oh no, nothing about this is rushed, Jayden. I've been ready for this since day one."

"Just think about it for a second." There's a note of panic in his voice, and he must notice the murderous expression on my face.

"Jay, I just held my crying best friend for the last forty-five minutes." I pin him with a glare. "Because of what he did."

Jayden takes a step back, running a hand through his hair, his eyes going from concerned to cold. "Okay." He nods, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just, don't maim him too badly; I still need him on my team."

I pull in a breath through my nose, mentally sifting through the many options that eliminate, but I nod. "Fine."

Then I back out, driving towards Davis' apartment.

🏊‍♂️

Davis opens the door with a sigh. His face is neutral, though tired lines frame his eyes.

"Sophie," he greets me, moving aside so I can enter.

We don't move from the hallway. I turn on the spot, taking in the room. It looks exactly the same as the last time I was here. Part of me kind of expected it to have changed. Like I'd be able to see what had gone down here just an hour and a half ago.

Davis is standing a few meters away, watching me lifelessly. "The car's in the garage. Want me to open up the door?"

I narrow my eyes at him, the urge to go out and smash his cars to bits welling up in me, but the idea doesn't feel as satisfying as it did with Darren.

I turn to the wall, running a finger down the frame of a painting in his hallway. "Not as much fun when you've given me permission. Besides, your car probably cost a fortune, and I'm not really fixing to go back to jail."

"What?"

"What?"

I face Davis again, noticing the shocked expression on his face.

His eyes scrutinize me; his mouth pressed together in a calculating line. He really looks like a lawyer right now. "Back to jail? As in have already been there?"

Ah shit.

I remove a piece of lint from my sleeve. "Aren't we all incarcerated in some form or another by this society?"

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Using big words and that shit might work with Sennels because, well, he's..."

"Kinda dumb?" I finish for him with a shrug. Jayden has plenty of street smarts and way more emotional intelligence than me, but when it comes to academic knowledge, he falls embarrassingly short.

Davis grimaces. "Your words." Then he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving me. "But I'm actually getting my degree and not just going through the motions so I can qualify for a scholarship."

I hold his gaze defiantly, and we stand there locked in a stalemate, me urging him to back down. Him acting like a hound who smelled blood.

In the end, I sigh, rolling my eyes, which is as good as a concession.

"So," Davis says, folding his hands in front of him, looking oddly pleased. "Jail?"

"Fine." I huff, rolling my shoulders. "I didn't actually go to jail, just, you know, detention."

"Were you prosecuted?" he asks, his voice all business.

"Which time?"

"Jesus, Brooks."

I press my lips together, going to admire a vase by the front door. Looks like I cost a couple of grand. "Not the first time. They didn't have any actual evidence that I was the one who broke in and I was a first-time offender." I look at him over my shoulder. "The second time, though, they had me on video. So it went to court." No way in hell will I be telling him about the third time.

"Were you convicted?"

I scrunch up my nose. "Only a little bit. Community service."

"On what charges?" he keeps going, clearly not about to let this go.

"Destruction of property."

He frowns, a flicker of concern in his previously all-business eyes. "Darren's car?"

I scoff, turning to face him fully, folding my arms across my chest. "Please, that guy's got zero balls; he would never dare tell the police it was me." I waft a hand in the air, hoping to knock the subject out of the way. "No, it was before we met."

He nods, adjusting his wristwatch. "Was Jen in any way involved?"

At the mention of her name, heat rushes through my body, igniting the pure anger inside me, and I slowly walk towards the chair at the other corner of the hallway. "As in she bailed me out? Yes."

He shakes his head. "How on earth are you two friends?"

I run my hand over the armrest. "Opposites attract, Davis. You should know that." Then I sit down, crossing my legs and looking at him somewhat pleasantly. "Which brings us back to the topic at hand. Your total destruction of my best friend's heart."

He gulps, eyes darting around the room, a hand scratching at his buzz-cut hair.

I fold my hands in my lap, tilting my head. "Forgoing corporal punishment - however tempting that might be, Jen would kill me - how would you like your reconning?"

"I get to choose?"

"Sure," I say, with the enthusiasm of a car salesman. "We have the usual, i.e., public humiliation and ongoing sabotage of your dating life with a spice of rumored STDs, or we can go the more extreme route, which basically consists of me contacting your four sisters and telling them what a major dick you are."

His eyes widen, mouth turning down in what I can best explain as a fearful grimace. His hands twitch at his side.

My lips curl, knowing I hit his weak spot. "The sisters it is..."

"Please don't, Brooks. I thought you said no bodily harm," he pleads, a wild gleam to his dark eyes.

"Only as long as I'm not the one doing it. Jen can't fault me for how your sisters might react to this news." I shrug, examining my nails, holding in the cackle that threatens to break free. Who knew it would be this easy?

"Can't we be adults about this?" he asks, pacing.

My eyes cut up to him, my features setting in hard lines. "Oh, you mean mature, like when you broke up with the best person on this planet because of her family?"

He stops, looking at me with pain in her gaze. "I was doing it for her. So she wouldn't have to choose."

"Did you consider that you shouldn't be making that decision for her? What the hell makes you an authority on the matter?" I ask, pushing my shoulders back as I stare daggers at him.

I could just remove a smaller, nonessential organ. Jen would never know.

"Brooks, this is between Jen and me."

I suck in my cheeks, drumming my fingers against my thigh. "That's where you're wrong, Davis. Because I love her. And we protect the ones we love."

His face falls, and hurt slashes over his features as he slumps against the wall. He seems drained, and he drops his head, taking in a ragged breath.

When he slowly lifts his eyes again, they're filled with self-hatred and regret.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go," he says, defeated.

A pang of sympathy blooms in my chest before the rage can overshadow it. To a certain extent, I do understand Davis. He was blindsided; as it turns out, I hadn't been the only one keeping secrets.

But unlike my horrid past, Jen's is in no way nearly as damaging. And unlike Davis, Jayden didn't use it as an excuse to kick me out of his home. So, maybe Davis doesn't deserve my pity.

I rise from my seat, walking towards the front door again, figuring that there's nothing more for me to do here.

"Are you going to tell my sisters?" Davis asks from behind me.

I pause, running my tongue over my teeth as I consider it. I could. I could probably get the number for one of them from Jen, and then the word would spread quickly enough. There's no doubt in my mind that his sisters already love Jen. They would rally behind her. How could they not?

But when I turn and see the ashamed look on his face, it occurs to me that I probably won't need to. I don't think external retribution will be necessary in this case.

"No. I'm pretty sure the guilt of what you've done will be punishment enough. You're your own worst enemy, Davis."

With that, I turn around and open the front door. Before I walk through it, I cast a last glance at the pitiful guy behind me.

Then, for good measure, I knock the expensive-looking vase off the small table, so it crashes to the ground, and stroll out of there.  


A/N: 
So, I am assuming you have a lot of questions. However, I won't be answering them yet. All of this will be explained in the next book in the series, but I would, of course, love to hear your theories ➡️

Just know that Davis has a side to the story, too, before you come running with the pitchforks 😅

- Hanna 💙


You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net