Chapter 20: Lighten Up

I fidget with my hands, bored, as Dylan drives. I can't help but be a little apprehensive. I'm not the dating type. In fact, this is my first real date. Usually, I'm that girl that people go out of their way to avoid. Nonetheless, I am done trying to change myself for people who will never be worth it.

"So what do you think about it?" Dylan asks, jolting me out from my hazy, dream-like state. He's been speaking for a while now, but I purposely tuned him out. 

I swallow anxiously, peeking a glance at him to see that even though his eyes are on the road, he's still waiting for me to answer. Flamingo chips! I wasn't even listening to a word he just said. I zoned out right after the second sentence. 

"Mhm..." I shrug, putting on a pretense as I think about nothing. "It's a difficult one, Dyl."

Dylan chuckles, aware that I'm not paying attention. 

Whatever, Jay's car is better than his, so in his face. Plus, Jay's a better driver than him.

Jay this, Jay that. Aqueela, shut up! You're on a date with Jay! Ah, fudge nuggets, you're on a date with Dylan!

I slap my forehead loudly in frustration as Dylan speaks up, choosing to not take note of me mumbling to myself like a mad person. "I guess you're right, but if you were her, what would you do about it? Out of curiosity, that is."

I groan inwardly, wishing for Dylan to just drop whatever the heck it is that we're apparently discussing. 

Here goes nothing... 

"Um...I-I'd," I waver in my response before collecting myself, "just let the issue dissolve on its own before it escalates out of control." I grin and give a halfhearted shrug, "Or I'd just sit back and enjoy the show."

"Yes, but, specifically, what do you mean by that? Any suggestions?" Dylan asks, looking over the wheel to me with a raised eyebrow.

Someone's about to get a fat slap soon. I can't relate to Dylan at all. It's all by Jay's doing that I am here in the first place.

Sorry, Dylan, but you have left me with no other choice but to move onto Plan B, and to just move on in general.

"Careful, there's a squirrel in the road!" I suddenly yell. 

Dylan's green eyes dart back to the road. He swerves the car in a panic as if to miss the non-existent squirrel. 

"Oh, thank goodness," I act, feigning relief. "You just missed it."

He pulls a face in protest. "But I didn't see-"

"That's because you were looking at me before it scampered away. Look, I'm flattered and all, but I'm also aware that men can't multitask. Maybe keep your eyes on the road and cut the in-between chitchat for now," I advise. 

Dylan nods, saying no more as he focuses on the oncoming traffic, seemingly taken aback and disappointed by my blunt approach. 

I sigh in guilt. Curse my seldom niceness. However, I really do have a fear of people taking their concentration off the streets.

"So how old are you?" I ask Dyl, regretful. "How did you become the manager of the store at such a young age, presuming you're still young in age. Are you? How did you become friends with Jay?" I ramble out a series of questions despite the fact that I just made the effort to stop the talking altogether. I'm a walking contradiction.

He frowns. "I thought you just said-"

"I don't remember saying that," I cut him off abruptly.

He argues. "You literally just said-"

"Dylan, please, just answer my questions," I breathe out in exasperation. I'm trying to be nice here and he's making it incredibly difficult.

Dylan doesn't bother arguing anymore and gives in too easily. For some reason, it irritates me. I'm used to Jay, Max, and Mason all arguing with me until their very last breath. As infuriating as it is in the moment, it makes for better memories

I'm distracted from my negative thoughts when Dylan suddenly inhales deeply before quickly answering all my questions as briefly as possible, stunning me with his accuracy. He answers in order too. He's sure got a memory on him.

"I am twenty-three. My father owns the ice cream store. He made me manager of the store to keep my head out of the clouds, especially after I dropped out of law school. Jay was there one afternoon and we didn't get along at first for obvious reasons, we're entirely opposite, at least I thought we were. Turns out, we have more in common than I realized. Jay has a tougher life than me and it was wrong of me to misjudge him. Despite being younger, the guy has a lot of experience and wisdom with the real word. He offered me advice on a personal situation. I know he makes himself out to be cold, but he's actually warm. He's a good guy."

I can't believe he's a college dropout. I can't believe he didn't know that Jay's inherently good at heart. At least, I believe it to be true. 

I huff, processing it all, before speaking again. "Wow, Dylan, you talk too much."

I'm half expecting Dylan to stop the car and dump me on the side of the road right here and now, but as I've come to learn, Dylan is decent. Sabotaging this date is going to be difficult.

"You're funny," Dylan laughs, not taking me seriously, and that makes me smile a little. At least, he's not some softie that can't take a joke every once in a while. "And cute too," he adds with a smirk.

"You're five years older than me," I remind him, still confused as to why he'd choose me.

"Can't you just accept the fact that I like you?" he asks, straight up.

I don't answer. 

We ride in silence until we reach our destination. I'm about to open my door and step out, but Dylan beats me to it, taking me by surprise as his hand intertwines with mine. I don't bother analyzing it as Dylan leads me into some over-the-top, fancy restaurant. 

I glance down at my clothes insecurely. I won't fit in here. I'm underdressed. It's a good thing I don't care.

It's as if Dylan seems to know what I'm thinking. He smiles down at me in reassurance. "You're fine."

I shake my head. "But I'm-"

"Fine," he interrupts me, "you're perfectly fine." 

I nod, watching him ask about the table he booked for us. The waiter says something in turn before he leads us to the reserved table far away from the hordes of snooty people. I stop before the table and look around, taking in the secluded spot lit with candles.

This really isn't my scene.

Dylan pulls out my chair for me before I get the chance to sprint back outside. I reluctantly sit down and force a smile, somewhat grateful for the effort. He takes his place across from me, pushing a menu my way. 

I fumble as I flip through the pages of the menu, not sure what it is exactly that I'm currently reading. It might be written in morse code.  All I know is that everything is incredibly expensive and I'm incredibly hungry.

Why the hell is everything in Greek?

Dylan puts in his order as he and the waiter continue to wait on me to make up my mind. I glance up sheepishly from my menu to find Dylan smiling at me, seemingly patient. As for the waiter, not quite.

"You ready to order ma'am?" the good-looking waiter asks, impatient and somewhat grumpy. He's probably around my age, maybe older.

I nod carelessly. "I think I'll just have a water and a hamburger-"

"She'll have a Zymarika too," Dylan finishes for me, directing me a helpful grin. I, of course, ignore it like the polite lady I am. He should have just let me have my hamburger. 

"And to drink?" the waiter questions, jotting down my order. 

Dylan fixates his gaze on me. I shrug, clueless, taking my time to think it through. All the while the waiter taps his foot impatiently. 

"I'll take a coke," I finally say. Judging by the responses of both Dylan and the waiter at the basic order, I'm quick to decide against it. "I mean, I'll take a chocolate milkshake." Again, same response. "No, no, wait! I'll take the fudge, choco moco espresso."

"That's not on the menu," the stupid, mean waiter responds harshly.

Jeez, someone is having a bad day.

He's only allowed to complain once he's been kidnapped and taken hostage.

"How about just an espresso to-go?" I question, unable to decide.

"But this isn't a 'to-go' order. You're sitting," the waiter points out, irritation clouding his pretty brown eyes.

"Okay," I stutter, "um, jeez, this is strenuous exercise, no pressure...um...a-"

Before I can finish my words, the waiter suddenly flips out. I watch, startled, as he throws down his notebook and badge, shouting at the top of his voice. "I quit!" 

I flinch at his two words before he barges out the restaurant, attracting a large audience. It's when everyone turns their gaze onto our table that I feel myself sink deeper into my chair, avoiding their accusing stares.

Clearly, that guy wasn't in a great mood to start with. I guess I just pushed him to the extreme. Great, now I feel almost awful. 

Dylan notices my foul drop in mood. He tugs on my hands to get my attention again. "Hey," he soothes gently, "that was not your fault. He was being a jerk."

I spare him a small smile, thankful.

The manager approaches us soon after the incident. He apologizes on the waiter's behalf, saying that it was indeed not my fault. The waiter, apparently, had been having a sucky day in general. However, I still feel accountable. 

Is it weird to feel pity for someone you don't even know? Sometimes you gotta listen to the inner voice speaking to you...

We're given a new waiter, a much politer one, who takes my orders with patience. 

I got to order the drink that wasn't on the menu.

I break from my thoughts when, from the corner of my eye, two tables away, I notice three people in disguise. These three people are hiding behind a large, black menu in order to cover their faces. However, every once in a while one of them peeks over in my direction. That's when those three sets of eyes become familiar. 

My stomach twists into knots as Bells, Max, and Troy all come into view.

Bell catches my eye and holds a thumbs up, a large grin on her face. Meanwhile, Troy's making kissy faces, winking at me. Max is wiggling his fingers at me in some type of stalker wave of greeting.

Oh, fudge fragments. Shoot me.

I should have known that they'd spy on me. It's not like them to let me enjoy myself without them. Nonetheless, there's a pair of blue eyes missing from the trio. I can't help but wonder where Jay went. 

As fate would have it, a normal night out does not exist in my world, or my friends' vocabularies.

Apart from them three spying, there's more.

Dylan coughs to grab my attention. He shifts his attention to someone standing behind me, someone oblivious to my three friends watching him carefully. I sigh internally when I see him. Now is really not the time.

He can't be here, not when Bells is here too. He might not see her but she will definitely see him. I don't want to get in the middle of them, but it's too late for that now. As he stated, he broke things off with her because of me.

This night can't possibly get any worse.

You know what, Murphy, stuff you and your fat head!

"Aqueela..." Mason drawls out slowly, confused. It's in his hesitance that he seems to notice Dylan too, instantly recognizing him. From what I know, the two are barely acquaintances. "You're on a date?" he asks me directly.

Sherlock Holmes, ladies and gentleman.

"Yes," I mutter, turning back to Dylan, hoping that Mason would take the hint and leave.

Mason has been with me all my life, not in the good sense. Nonetheless, he's always been there. As much as I want to resent him, I simply can't. He's a part of me now. Sadly, I cannot turn on people in my life as easily as I had hoped to. Despite everything he's done, I still care -- a mistake on my part.

Mason, angered by my answer, scrunches up his eyebrows in distaste. "You weren't supposed to go on your fist date with some guy you barely know," he snaps venomously, his dislike for Dylan now obvious.

I raise an eyebrow at the audacity of him. "Oh? And who are you to make that call?" I ask.

He doesn't answer.

I huff in despair, desperate to diffuse this situation before Bells hears everything and disregards me as her friend. "Now's not the time Mason, so just..." I falter in my lecture when Mason takes a seat beside me, interrupting the date.

Oh my cheesecake, he can't be serious!

Mason throws an arm around the back of my chair, possessive. "You're older than Aqueela," he states, looking over at an infuriated Dylan. "What are your intentions with her? How does she know you're not some-"

I pull away from Mason and place my hand over his mouth before he can finish his sentence. At this rate, it won't be long before Dylan loses it. I can see a fight breaking out soon.

"Why the hell are you here?" Dylan hisses, enraged by Mason's unexpected presence. Dylan turns to me for an explanation when Mason stubbornly refuses to give one. "Is he your boyfriend now or something?"

Ha! Funny!

I'm quick to shake my head as my throat closes up at the mere suggestion. "No!" I say furiously. "He's my best friend's ex and my personal enemy."

"Well, for enemies you two look pretty darn snug," Dylan points out in a matter-of-fact way.

It's then that I notice Mason has inched his way over to me yet again. I react and pull my seat, purposely dragging it away from him. He's acting like a four-year-old. Usually, he's the mature one, not the other way around.

"Well, we're not," I clarify, "I hate him," I tell Dylan, making sure that Mason hears, but whether he does or not, he still continues on with his jealous act.

"I feel the opposite about her," Mason states, careless, making his true feelings known. "So back off."

"You're the one that interrupted our date. You back off. She hates you anyway," Dylan replies, suddenly standing up, prepared to strike.

Mason stands tall too as he gets up as well. When I try to yank him down, he merely brushes me aside as him and Dylan have some guy stare down, a guy stare down for dayz.

A fight is definitely about to break loose -- I was right about that, I was just wrong about who'd be involved in the fight.

I've been keeping my eyes on Dylan, waiting for him to throw a punch, when I really should have been watching Troy instead. 

There's a warrior cry from two tables away. Before I know it, Troy has flung the table aside, exposing the three loons. Max and Bells are both seemingly stunned by his unpredictable actions.

In a split second, it's not Dylan throwing the first punch in Mason's direction, but instead, it's Troy. 

My eyes widen as I watch the horror unravel. The only time Troy ever gets serious is when his sister is involved. It's another side to him.

Mason, who'd not seen it coming, merely stands aside and lets Troy give him a beat down, probably realizing that he deserves it. He has always been the type to back down if he knows that it's his fault. That's at least one respective characteristic trait that he possesses.

While Troy is mauling at Mason's back, Mason himself decides that enough's enough and sends a fist in Dylan's direction. Next thing I know, there's glass shattering, plates breaking and blood everywhere as the three rip each other to shreds. That might be an exaggeration, but one would get the point, I think.

I call for help. The manager rushes in and attempts to break up the fight. I run straight to Bells who is crying frantically at the sight of Mason getting pummelled. However, she's more distressed about his confession that she overheard.  

This isn't my fault. I deserve unicorns, damn it! Unicorns! Colorful ones!

I glance toward Max, sending him a pleading look. He registers what I'm trying to convey, hesitating for a second before wedging himself in the middle in a futile attempt to stop the fight. 

Dylan accidentally hits Max instead of Mason. Max loses his cool as a result, and like a lit fuse, starts targeting both Mason and Dylan. However, Troy is still intent on murdering Mason alone. In fact, I think everyone here is intent on murdering Mason one way or another, including me.

I can't help but wish Jay was here to end this. No doubt he would have. He has a rep for getting into nasty fights that stop in bitter ends.

I try to stop the fighting but to no avail.

Just as I give in, I hear an unfamiliar shout, unfamiliar because Bells barely ever shouts. She only raises her voice when absolutely necessary. 

"Just stop it! All of you, enough!"

Even I freeze at the bitter, pained tone of her voice. 

Troy drops the fists that he was just about to use to smash into the back of Mason's head, merely at the sound of his little sister yelling out in desperation. 

Mason stops going at Dylan and covers his face from Max's attacks, realizing that Bell, his old flame, has just witnessed everything, including his heartfelt admission to his feelings. He seems ashamed to be caught by her in a wrestling match, and he should be. They all should be. 

Dylan, too, stops fighting because he never realized that Bell was capable of using such a scary tone. He's in shock.

Then, of course, the only one who doesn't stop is Max. He continues to send fists at both Dylan and Mason, oblivious to the silence overtaking his warrior shouts of rage. 

I stifle a laugh, taking the open gap to intervene. 

I tap Max on the shoulder in an effort to stop him. He turns around swiftly, his fists raised, as he takes a swing at me, still in 'fight' mode. I dodge him just in time. His brown eyes lighten when he sees that it's just me. He drops his fists and smiles.

It's only then that he notices all the eyes on him, including Bell's, realizing that the others stopped fighting some time ago. Immediately, his cheeks flame red in embarrassment. He tries to cover it up with one of his usual remarks. "Who's next? Who faces the victor next?"  

I don't miss the small smile tugging at Bell's lips, but when her eyes meet mine, they grow cold. That's when it dawns on me that she is far from pleased, my worst nightmare coming true just like I knew it eventually would.

I've just won the 'No-Bell' prize.

Her face is void of emotion. There's no use in bothering about losing her because I can see that I've already lost her. She's relinquished our friendship.

You really did it this time, Murphy.

Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

*~*~*~**~*~*~*

An hour later and here I still sit, telling Bells everything -- from Mason acting weird at first, to him being too concerned about me, to him breaking up with her, to him confessing to me and to him trying to kiss me.

She didn't want to listen at first, assuming the worst. It took a lot of persuasion on Max's part to get her to hear me out. But now I wish that I didn't say anything. The look of betrayal and hurt on her face is enough to ruin the next thirty years of my life.

She's angry that I didn't tell her as soon as I suspected something. She looks at me a final time before getting up to leave, taking Max and Troy with her. Her mind is set, and this time it's not on me.

Max sends me an apologetic glance over his shoulder, in other words, letting me know that he'd talk to her.

I've come to realize that things don't work themselves out, especially not for me.

I turn back around to face the music. Dylan has stormed off, leaving me to see to the check. He left before I could explain a single thing. On the bright side, I don't think there will be a second date anytime soon. 

This will surely go down in world history as the worst first date ever.

Karma and Murphy are never on my side.

I never intended to hurt anyone.

I wish Dylan didn't leave me alone in the restaurant. His presence is more welcomed than Mason's. Although, to give him some credit, Maggot is hanging around because he wants to make sure that I get home safely. 

He went out of his way to avoid Bell tonight. He's not ready to see her just yet. I'm sure that he's just as pained about the breakup as she is. He can lie to himself all he wants, but a small part of him really loved Bell.

The waiter returns with our orders. She lays down the plates of Greek pasta on the broken table, unfazed by the mess. "So you're paying then?" she asks me, expectant, as she eagerly hands me the check, waiting for her tip.

You'd think she'd get the message that we're not eating here anymore...

I think I prefer the waiter who quit.

I grumpily take the check from her, my eyes widening in shock when I see the amount. My heart quickens. Yolanda will kill me if she finds out that I just made her even more broke than we already are.

A hand snatches the check from me. I turn to find Mason signing it, gathering money out of his wallet before handing it to the gold-digger. She grins ecstatically before skipping off, not really too concerned about my current situation. 

"You didn't have to," I say, shooting Mason a grateful look. 

He waves it off as if it is nothing. He knows my financial state. For him, it really is nothing. His parents are wealthy and as an all-star quarterback, he wins money every so often during special tournaments.

Unintentionally, I let out a yawn. The evening's events have taken a toll on me. I'm worn-out. 

Mason notices my exhaustion and takes my hand into his. He ignores my faint protesting before dragging me out of the restaurant, after having first sorted out damage costs with the manager.

"Let me take you home," Maggot insists politely. 

Although I want to go home, I shake my head. It won't feel right letting Mason take me home. I'll feel like I'm betraying Bells all over again. If it were me in her shoes, I'd also be mad, so out of respect for Bells, I decline his offer.

I can't seem to shake Mase. I care about him, when really, I should detest his guts. However, have notI know he has a good heart buried under all the muck.

"Your eye is black," I point out, concerned. "A real shiner."

"I'll be fine," he assures me. "Trust me, I've taken worse beatings," he says, taking a seat on the hood of his car. 

I'm sure, as a quarterback, he has, yet I somehow get the feeling that he's talking about something else.

"Now here's a question for you to answer," he interlaces his fingers with mine, tugging me forward against my will, "why are you going out on dates with Dylan if you have your heart set on Jay?"

"Why do you care?" I snap at him, annoyed that he's prying. 

"You know why," he murmurs quietly, releasing my hand.

"Mason..." I start, "you can't feel that way-"

"Aqueela," he stops me, "you misunderstood. My feelings aren't new. They've always been here," he gestures to his chest. "I only went out with Bells to get closer to you. You may not have noticed, but behind all the insults, I've only had eyes for one girl."

It's difficult to notice when he's constantly being a jerk.

I pull away completely, not wanting to indulge in this conversation. "Mason, don't," I warn softly, "what you did was so wrong. You can't justify it." 

This caring side to him frightens me.

Mason hops off the hood and approaches me with boldness in his steps. "There has to be a tiny piece of you that feels the same. You've known me for years."

Years of torture... 

He clears his throat before speaking again. "You told me to figure out what it is that I want, and I did. Now it's your turn."

"But Mason-"

"Just let me know when you're home safe."

I nod, watching him take off.

Maggots and humans don't mix. Despite the cyclone of emotions flowing through me, he's still somewhat of an abomination to mankind. I had to kick him to the curb. I've never going to reciprocate his feelings.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, and take out my cell phone. I scroll down until I stop at the one name that I always find myself turning to nowadays. It rings only once before he picks up:

"Aqueela? Is everything okay?"

"Can you spare some time to pick up a friend?" I ask, closing my eyes while I wait for his answer. I'm doubtful.

There's a beat of silence before he answers me. "Where are you?" 

I grin to myself, elated, and immediately tell him.

It's a couple minutes later when Jay arrives on the scene, pulling up right beside me. He steps out of his Gallardo before rushing over to me. He gives me a once-over before his hard gaze softens a fraction. 

"What happened?" he asks, that being the first thing he says.

I shake my head and look away. "I just lost my entire life."

He reads into the situation based on what he knows about me. "Bella isn't your life. One person can never be your entire life," he sets me straight, yet not quite convinced of his own words himself.

"I'm sorry that I took you away from whatever you were doing," I whisper, apologizing for so much more than just that. I take him for granted at times.

He senses the underlining message. 

"Hey now, you keep me on my toes," he jokes, doing his very best to cheer me up. "I can't complain, Aqueela," he assures me in sincerity, not conscious of his actions as he brushes a strand of my hair out of my face. 

I smile, already feeling a lot better. 

"There's that smile that steadily grew on me," he teases, nudging me playfully.

Please, my smile K.O.'d him flat.

Jay opens the door to the passenger seat of his car before motioning for me to get in. 

I begin to shake my head, fearful. 

"Don't worry," he speaks before I can argue, "I don't plan on taking you home."

My smile only widens.

This time, I don't hesitate to jump in -- no more questioning. He starts up his car and soon we're riding in a comfortable silence. For once, I can be content in the silence of the night. Jay is here. 

Along the way, my stomach begins to growl. I peek a glance at Jay to see that his eyes remain fixed on the road. I shift in my seat, facing the window. The trees zoom past. At peace, I close my eyes for a brief moment of rest.

I miss my mom.

I can't be sure how much time passes when someone tugs at my arm roughly. It can only be Jay. He's not the most...affectionate person. "Wake up," I hear his voice.

I slap his hand off of my arm, wanting to continue on sleeping. "Leave me alone," I mumble dreamily.

"Wakey wakey, Sleep Walker! Get out before I kick you out myself."

My eyes fly open at the new nickname rolling off his lips. These days, I pay attention to his threats. He'll do it.

"I don't approve of that name either," I tell him, stretching my arms out above me before yawning again.

"Dream Walker?" Jay asks, hoping for different results this time.

I shoot him down again with a glare, crossing my arms over my chest in pure defiance. 

Jay pays no heed. Instead, he gets out and saunters over to my side of the car, opening my door before surprising me by gently tugging me out.

"Where are we?" I groan once I gather my bearings, coming out of my hazy state.

"McDonald's," he answers in nonchalance, walking ahead of me. 

I walk faster in an effort to catch up with him. "Why are we here?" I ask just as we step into the small building.

"To get you food," Jay answers casually. 

He heard my stomach crying for food after all. How...embarrassing? Nonetheless, I'm taken aback by his thoughtfulness.

Jay takes the lead and asks me what I want. I happily tell him and he orders it, paying for my food and buying himself nothing. He takes a seat at a table, waiting for me to join. I pause for a second before sitting down across from him.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Jay asks upon seeing my expression.

I prefer simple and casual over a fancy dinner. McDonald's with Jay is perfect, at least, to me it is.

I shake my head, failing to mask my joy. "Nothing."

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Alright."

"You're being extra nice tonight," I point out, savoring my food, no longer starving.

Jay sighs aloud at my words before leaning forward across the table toward me. "Aqueela..." he falters, "I really don't want to bring this up again, but you can't just go on like this and not talk about it. What happened earlier?"

I saw this coming. At least he had the decency to hold off for as long as possible. I guess I owe him, of all people, an explanation.

"Mason broke up with Bells because of me. That's what he says, however, I'm not convinced. Anyway, Bell found out tonight when Mason happened to be there too. Troy obviously heard too and lashed out at Mason as Mason attacked Dylan. I asked Max to stop it. As it turns out, that just landed Max up right in the middle," I update him on the latest events of my life. "Honestly, the whole time, I was just wishing for you to be there." 

I don't miss the half-smile imprinting itself over his lips.

"Then the manager tries to break up the fight. Nothing works. Bell loses it and eventually they stop. Next thing, everyone is raging at me, including Bells. The only one not remotely annoyed with me as of now is Mason. Just my luck."

Jay listens attentively as I go on into more detail, never once interrupting. He only lets out a visible breath of relief once I finally conclude the story. He nods wordlessly, taking the time to contemplate all that I've said. 

"Well," he averts his gaze, "if it helps at all, you still have me."

It helps, more so than he might ever realize.

If I didn't have Jay, I'd be very lost right now. 

"But you're no Bell," I remind him on impulse, unsure of what to say.

"And Bell is no Jay Taylor," he reminds me, in turn.

That, she isn't.

I smile discreetly, trying to hide behind my hair. 

Jay instantly notices when I drop the smile at the thought of living a life without Bella Bensten in it. "Look," he speaks up, "I know you have this incessantly weird bond with Bella, but even if you lose everyone, you'll always have-"

"Jay," I cut him off, "I already know what you're going to say."

"Good," he says quietly.

"Thank you."

He falls silent, saying nothing more on the topic. 

I begin to grow worried when he stares down at the table with a frown on his face. It's times like these where I wish I could read his thoughts. He puts on a facade and lives in a fantasy world where he pretends to be fine, but on the inside, he's not. He's not fine.

Eventually, I decide that enough is enough. No more brooding. I take a fry and toss it at his face. "Lighten up, Jay, I'm here."

A lopsided grin takes over his features as his blue eyes glimmer in hope. "Yes, you are," he states before adding the last part under his breath, "unfortunately."

And just when I thought we were getting somewhere.

"So, how come you didn't come spy, huh?" I muse. "I was sure the trio would talk you into joining."

"I don't get talked into things, Aqueela. Besides," he shrugs, looking anywhere but at me, "I was dealing with more important things."

His mind is like a jigsaw puzzle, like a fort -- undefeatable and impenetrable.

What import things? Why can't he just make life easier and be straightforward?

Before I get the chance to question the meaning beyond his words, he has already changed the subject. "So other than the fight, collateral damage and all your friends resenting you, how was your first date?"

I frown and cross my arms over my chest, giving him a 'what-do-you-think' look. "Terrible. Disastrous. Worst date in entire history, and if you study history you'd know that there are a lot of dates. Do any of those terms really come close to the actual experience? I think not. There are no words for...." I trail off as something registers in my head, "wait a sec', how did you know it was my first date?"

Only Bells and Mason knew.

As if expecting my reaction, he graces me with a secretive smile. "I know everything," he informs me before reaching over the table to steal one of my fries.

"Bells, right?" I ask, now curious.

He shakes his head before popping the fry into his mouth. "Nope," he answers playfully, amused.

"Troy?" I press for answers.

Jay can't just automatically know everything. It doesn't work that way. At least, I don't think it does.

"Nuh-uh," he shakes his head again, a mischievous glint to his electric blue eyes.

"Mason?!" I shout out in disbelief. No way!

"Try again," he replies as a cocky smirk makes its way over his lips.

"Max?" I ask sheepishly, running out of names.

"Ice-cold," he chuckles and leans back in his chair, finding this game to be very entertaining.

"How?!" I all but raise my tone, aggravated by his lack of information -- nothing new, he never opens up about anything.

"Guess you'll never know."

I kick him under the table in his shin for the lack of reply.

"Ouch," he complains, not really all that bothered by my violence, "and no, now I'm definitely not telling you. Shower me with respect and maybe-"

I kick him again, except, harder this time.

"It's for me to know and for you to..." he grabs another fry and shifts back, tossing it into his mouth before chewing and swallowing agonizingly slowly as if to create suspense, "I forgot what I was going to say."

I let it go, deftly. I don't feel up to destroying him in an argument tonight.

He sends me a gloating, victorious smirk, a smug expression on his face. 

He wins...for now. 

"So where are you taking me after this?" I ask subtly, hoping that he won't insist on taking me home. I don't feel strong enough to face Yolanda tonight.

"Home, of course," he answers bluntly. 

"Oh," I say dryly, unable to express myself properly.

He takes immediate note of response and lifts his head to make eye contact with me. "My home," he clarifies.

I exhale in solace.

"See," I grin freely, "this is why I like you, you're an absolute sweetie pie."

"Sweetie pie?" He arches an eyebrow, displeased. "Do you want me to go back to ignoring you? Because with a nickname like that, I just might."

Thankfully, Jay chooses not to comment on the first part of my sentence, and for that, I'm simultaneously disappointed and grateful.

"What you say we get out of here?" he suddenly asks, dissolving my humiliation as quickly as possible -- I can't help but wonder if he always does this for me intentionally or if it's just a coincidental accident.

My bet is on the former. He's a lot softer than he makes himself out to be.

I nod appreciatively at the suggestion. "Please."

*~*~*~**~*~*~*

"Home sweet home," I say sleepily as I enter Jay's house after first banging open his front door.

He enters from behind, shoving me aside and out of the doorway so that he can get past. "You realize that this isn't your home, right?" But it feels like it is. "I think you're getting a little too familiar around here," he teases.

I would argue but seeing as I'm currently drinking out of a milk carton that I helped myself to from his fridge, I don't think I'm in any position to. I'll be the walking contradiction again.

He's right.

I have got cozy around here. It's just such a natural feeling of home whenever I step into this house. I can't decipher if it's the house in itself or the fact that Jay always steps into the house with me.

I place the milk carton down before turning back to face Jay. "But come on, I can be your roomie! How fun will that be?"

"How about no?" Jay replies as he flops down onto the leather couch, making himself comfortable, relaxing after the tiring night. Then again, he missed all the fun -- not exactly the correct choice of words, but nevertheless...

"Housekeeper?" I try my luck.

"Will you be wearing a maid's outfit?" he asks suggestively, kidding around.

"No?" I question more than state, confused.

His grin morphs back into his usual, indifferent frown. "Then no."

"So no roomie?" I pout in disappointment.

Truth be told, I'd love to get away from Yolanda permanently. At the same time, a part of me would miss her.

"Already established that. Still no," he confirms, his decision concrete, unable to be swayed.

"Hmm," I tap my chin in mock thought before suggesting the next best thing, "how about your personal chef?"

"And die from food poisoning?" he arches an eyebrow at me in accusation. "No, thanks. How about my personal butler? I'll be Bruce, you be Alfred," he replies, resting his head back as he stares up at the ceiling in contemplation as if carrying the weight of the universe on his shoulders. 

Why does he get to be Batman? Then I'm Joker.

"And see to your every need? I'm good," I answer. "How about I live in your vents? You won't even you I'm here," I state. It's possible, Chang on 'Community' did it.

"Oh, but I will," Jay answers with a faint smile as if not entirely here in the moment. "So I'll pass," he concludes, angling himself so that he can see me properly, the brown strands of his hair falling just above his blue eyes.

"C'mon, Jay, at least accept me as a pet. I will even sleep in a dog house, that's how desperate and willing I am," I huff in exasperation, not at all meaning it, but hey, it would be a start. 

He is impossible.

"As tempting as the offer is, I'm going to have to go with another 'no'." I give him a flat look in turn. He holds his hands up in defense, coming up with a poor explanation, "You move in and you just become another mouth to feed." 

My mouth falls agape at his words. It's only when I see the teasing grin on his face that I realize he's merely joking. Nonetheless, I take the empty milk carton and toss it at his head. Unfortunately, he ducks, just missing it.

Curse his fast reflexes!

"Yeah, because if I move in it will turn into adaption and survival of the fittest, right?" I ask sarcastically, feigning irritation.

"Yup," Jay nods, agreeing, a solemn expression on his face, "exactly that."

He's stifling a chuckle right about now.

"And you're scared that I will be the fittest right?" I taunt.

Jay, seemingly always up to the challenge, narrows his eyes at me as if to threaten me. "Depends on what category you're referring to."

I give him a look, furrowing my eyebrows as I try to work him out. "In every category, I will be superior to you."

"Yeah right," he laughs aloud, finding my reply to be comical.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," I grumble, unimpressed, flopping down beside him.

We fall into a peaceful silence, that is until he breaks it by getting all serious on me. "Hey, Aqueela," he pauses, meeting my gaze, "why do you hate your home so much?" 

Because I don't consider my home a home...

"It's not so much my home that I hate," I reply coldly, closing myself off to him, not wanting to digest such personal information with him just yet.

However, tonight is not my night. 

I shiver when a cool breeze blows in from the open windows. I wrap my arms around myself, pulling my knees up to my chin, trying to keep warm. It's only when I glance down that I notice that my cardigan is missing. 

I glance around frantically, trying to cover the scars with my hair. The cardigan must have fallen off or something.

"It came off when you fell asleep in the car," Jay suddenly says, having noticed my panic, practically reading my mind. "You move alot in your sleep," he adds, holding back on smiling.

I tense and avert my eyes from his in shame.

Out of all people...

"I know, Aqueela," he says quietly, his hand landing on my own in a gesture of comfort.

I flinch, speechless, as I find the courage to look at him again.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I ask, completely unaware that he had noticed earlier. 

He purposely keeps his gaze off my arms as if not to offend me. "I didn't want to push you. I figured you'd tell me if you wanted to."

His words warm my soul. He is different.

"I didn't mean for you to see that..."

I stop talking when Jay shrugs off his leather jacket before adjusting the collar of his shirt slightly, exposing his own scar -- one that starts from the base of his neck and most likely ends at the upper part of his chest.

"There's a reason why I wear jackets all the time, Aqueela."

My breath leaves me at the sight. His scar means one thing, he's been hurt before. That thought doesn't sit well with me. It's too agonizing to bear. Who would do that to him?

"Jay..." I falter, sharing in his pain.

"I won't pretend to know what you've been through, but I'd like to think that we understand each other now," he opens up, revealing a part of himself to me.

"Definitely," I nod, still lacking in the word department.

He grins upon hearing my words, throwing an arm around my shoulders before drawing me to his side. "You might not believe it now, but it gets better. Once you've hit rock bottom, there's no way but up. Try and accept where you're at and build from that," he encourages me. 

I nod into his chest, my eyes slowly drifting close, yet a part of me, the more sensible part, stays awake to hear what he's saying.

"You have to believe that it will be better," he repeats, impassive, his head elsewhere.

Before him, I don't think 'better' ever existed. At least, not for me.