Dealing With Trouble

CHAPTER 7?

By the end of class, I had gathered enough courage to apologize. It's clear 1 offended him last night, and I'd rather not make enemies on my first day of school.

As soon as the bell rings I'm out of my seat, making my way to his desk. I hesitate for a moment. Long enough to realize this is probably a mistake. Long enough for him to lift his head. Our eyes connect, and for a second he just looks at me before he grabs his bag, swings it over his shoulder, and walks right past me.

At lunch, instead of playing the age-old game of where do I sit, the decision is made for me. Jane waves me over, so I take a seat at an already-crowded table overlooking the courtyard.

"You're just in time to hear Jane launch into one of her woo-woo therapy rants about love languages," Olly says. He's inhaled his pizza and fries and is now helping himself to Jane's, which is impressive for someone so thin. "Because her mother is a relationship therapist, she believes she is an expert by default."

"It's not nonsense," Jane says as she yanks her fries away. "It's actually scientifically proven."

"Whatever. I'd like to eat lunch without being psychoanalyzed just once."

"No one is psyching you out. I'd be finished in two seconds."

He reaches for her fries again, avoiding her slaps. "And if it were me, I'd be done in three."

"You're never going to do me."

Zion, who had been fixing his dark hair in the reflection of a spoon until now, bursts out laughing.

"What are love languages?" I ask, perplexed.

Jane looks up from her smoothie sip. "The idea is that we all have a primary love language, a way that we prefer to be appreciated or loved. I'm a words of affirmation girl, which means I prefer it when people tell me they like me rather than show me. Olly, unsurprisingly, enjoys receiving gifts." Her gaze is drawn to mine, and she tilts her head. "I haven't worked you out yet, obviously, but I will."

The thought of being psychoanalyzed by Jane makes me sick. "I can hardly wait."

As I try to keep up, they start talking about senior week. Jeremiah is sitting on a table near the window with his friends. And I keep thinking that this guy resembles the man who helped me the day I was bullied. He's more animated than I've ever seen him. His grin is sweet and boyish, the polar opposite of how he'd looked at me earlier.

Jane's gaze is drawn to me. "Ugh."

My head jerks up. "Do you dislike them?"

"I don't like him."

"Sure you do," Dane responds. "Didn't you kiss him after Homecoming?"

Jane remains silent for a brief moment. She finishes her smoothie, sets the carton down, and says calmly, "Olly, do you mind?"

"Certainly not." He leans across Jane, revealing a sliver of taut skin beneath his T-shirt, and punches Dane on the arm. "Ignore him," he says to me. “When Jeremiah is mentioned, he becomes depressed."

Dane stiffens as he looks at Jeremiah, then turns to his plate.

"Why?" I can't help but wonder.

"Dane kissed Jeremiah's ex, Caitlyn," Olly reveals. "She dumped them both, moved schools, and now they mope around, occasionally shooting each other death glares."

"Did I leave anything out?" he asks innocently of Dane.

"You're a jerk," Dane says. "I understand that I come across as the bad guy in this story, but it's complicated. He's not a nice person."

I don't respond. I've never been one to pass judgment on people based on gossip, but something about Jeremiah raises red flags. Perhaps it's his piercing gaze, or the fact that my mother has spent years warning me about boys like him, but every time he looks at me, I wish he wouldn't.

The topic quickly shifts to prom. As happy as I am to be back on track, prom is the one thing I am not looking forward to. The dress Mom and I had spent months looking for now hangs in my closet, a reminder of a night I'll never have with Jamie.

"Oh, don't be concerned about finding a date," Kylan says. "Jane has already requested that Dane take you."

"You mean forced," Zion says as he looks at me. "I apologize."

I turn to face Dane, who is trying not to look at me directly. "Do you agree with that?"

His eyes, warm and intense, flit to mine.

"Yeah. That is, if you are. I figured moving here halfway through your senior year and then having to worry about prom would be stressful."

For a brief moment, I am concerned about Jamie's reaction to my going to prom with another boy. But then I remind myself that he won't think anything of it—I'm not my mother, and he's not my father. "Thank you," you say. "How thoughtful of you."

The remainder of the day is a blur of new faces. Jane insists on going shopping after school and then eating dinner. I pause briefly—I had intended to visit the school's athletic facilities—but she and Kylan practically drag me to the parking lot.

We climb into her convertible and ride down a palm-tree-lined street with the top down, music blasting. As I turn back, I feel a rush of adrenaline as my hair whips back and forth in the wind.

It's not long before we arrive in the crowded parking lot of the West Hollywood Gateway mall. Before heading to Sephora, we spent the next hour rushing through stores, trying on clothes like in a bad teen movie.

"Oh my God," Jane says behind me, followed closely by Kylan, "why do you walk so fast?"

"How come you walk so slowly?" I say this, but I let her grab my hand and pull me down the foundation aisle.

"Try this," Kylan says as he hands me a tube. "You have a similar skin tone to me, and it's the best I've ever worn. It doesn't make you look ashy like some other brands."

"I'll get it for you," Jane says, looking between us as if “she's being left out. It could be a welcome to California gift."

My guard is raised, and I tell her I can't. Accept this and you'll owe me, says the warning label on the side of the box.

"All right," she says as she hands it back, "gifts are definitely not your love language. I'll keep attempting."

For dinner, we decided on an Italian restaurant. We spend the next hour getting to know each other better as I order spaghetti and they order ravioli.

It seems Jane is a movie buff. Anything I mention, she's either seen it or heard about it, and if it doesn't have at least a seven-star rating on IMDb, it's not worth her Time.

"What's wrong with low-rated movies?" I ask. "They can be good."

Kylan looks up from her phone long enough to say, "Don't get her started," but I can tell from Jane's passionate expression that it's too late “Who wants to waste two hours on a movie that's got a bunch of bad reviews?"

Jane asks. She leans across the table, eyes bright with expression. "I figure Time is precious, and you should make the most of it." She stabs at her ravioli and pushes her side of garlic bread toward me. "Have some, it's nice."

I rush to take one of the slices. "You must miss out on a lot of good movies that way, though. Some have terrible reviews but turn out to be really enjoyable. Some of them might not be critically acclaimed, but does it matter?"

"I guess, but if the majority of people who watch a movie think it's bad, it's a good indicator that the movie is going to be bad."

"No, I know." This garlic bread is delicious. I eye the other slice for a second, and Jane laughs and says I can have that one too. "I'm just saying that even a bad movie can be fun to watch. I mean, I've watched movies with two stars before, not expecting much, and ended up loving them."

"What you should both be watching," Kylan says, "are murder documentaries. There are loads on Netflix. Zion and I have these murder marathons, and we try to guess who the killer is before it's

revealed."

"Sounds morbid," Jane says.

The buzzing of my phone cuts through whatever Kylan's about to say. I glance at the FaceTime call from Jamie and hesitate.

Kylan peers over my shoulder and asks,

"That the boyfriend?"

"Yep."

"Can we meet him?" Jane asks.

I hesitate, then click Accept and wait for Jamie's face to fill the screen. As soon as it does, my heart flips. "Hey," he says. "You home yet? How was your first day?"

"Not yet. I'm just having dinner with my-"I pause, because it feels strange to call them friends after only a week."-new besties," Jane says. "Quick, point it to me." She smooths down her curls, readjusts her sweater, and grins.