Jayden: I’m sure she’ll be fine to drive you.
Mike: So that’s a yes?
Jayden: You’re the one in AP Calc. You do the math.
Mike: Why when you’re giving out answers? You’re better than a cheat sheet.
Jayden: Awww. That’s like the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.
Mike: Don’t get all warm and fuzzy. Probably won’t happen again.
Jayden: The (bird emoji)
Mike: What was that?
Jayden: Are you back to dumb Mike already? I was giving you the bird. Duh.
Mike: Well aren’t you clever?
Jayden: I try. (smily-winky emoji)
“Who are you texting?” Brady asked, curiosity all over his face. “Is it Becca? Did she say yes? Because you’ve got a big, dopey grin thing going on right now.”
I sucked in my cheeks and bit down on them to hold back the smile, but it was useless. I was struggling not to laugh at this point. The smile was going to happen whether I liked it or not.
“Nah, it was just Jayden.”
“Jayden? As in the pain in your neck who busts your chops and hates your guts? That Jayden?” Brady said skeptically.
“The one and only.”
“The one you complain about nonstop.”
“Yep.”
“Hmmm,” Brady mumbled, as if he didn’t believe me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing,” I argued.
“It was just a really big-ass goofy grin. Especially for a guy who was talking to a girl he hates.” Brady thought he was so smart. I better put a stop to that right now.
“Hate is a strong word. I never said I hated her. I like picking on her. And I was smiling because I was picking on her.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Shut up.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and leaned back in my chair. So what if I liked picking on Jayden? She was annoying, and she deserved it. But she could keep up with me, and that made it fun. Was it a crime to have fun? I didn’t need to explain myself to Brady. I plastered a smug look on my face and folded my arms across my chest. I was trying to look indifferent, but secretly, I was almost looking forward to fifth hour.
JAYDEN
My stomach growled as I entered Spanish. Becca made me skip lunch and go with her to the gymnasium. I’d been planning to buy food, so I didn’t get any, and Becca shared hers, but it wasn’t nearly enough. She’d snatched me before I’d made it to the cafeteria, saying she couldn’t go in. She didn’t want Mike to see her until she was ready to give him an answer. And she didn’t feel comfortable marching up to the popular senior table to tell him yes.
Instead, we spent the meal chatting with Becca’s dad, who’d been strangely supportive of her going out with Mike. It appeared he could fool students but not teachers. Mr. Adams went on and on about what a good kid Mike was. He gave her a hug and told her he was excited for her, and then they laughed about how thrilled Becca’s mom would be to take her dress shopping. Becca had two older brothers and she wasn’t exactly a girly-girl, much to her mother’s disappointment. Fancy dress shopping would be the highlight of her year.
Becca wanted to leave the flowers in her dad’s office because they were too big to fit in her locker and she’d almost knocked them over. But I insisted she take them to class because she’d make Mike worry she didn’t like them. She took a huge whiff of the flowers as we left and hugged them tightly to her chest. We’d need to have a little chat about appearing too eager.
I was one of the first people to arrive in the classroom, and I sat in my usual spot. We didn’t have assigned seats, but everyone sat in the same places. I sunk into my desk as Mike walked over, taking the seat behind me.
“Sup, Brat.”
“Nothing much, Stumpy.”
“Stumpy?” he asked, confused.
“Remember? We established that you’re dumb as a stump at our first non-tutoring session.”
Mike lowered his voice, as if he were getting ready to share top-secret information. “No, we established that I’m far from dumb as a stump. Come up with something more accurate.”
“Are you going to let the rest of the world in on our little secret?”
His face contorted in frustration. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Then Stumpy it is!” I declared in satisfaction. Mike grumbled something under his breath, then leaned over and started unloading his backpack. That was weird. He always sat a few rows over. The desk directly behind me was usually empty, so it’s not like he was displacing anyone. But I still found it strange that he’d planned to sit next to me today.
Becca cruised through the door, flowers proudly in hand and sat down in her normal seat, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Yes,” she said with a grin, bypassing a hello. She looked straight through me, like I wasn’t there, and focused on Mike. Nice, Becca, way to be coy, I chuckled to myself. “And thank you so much for the flowers,” she added. “Natalie said she’d helped you put them together and that she was super jealous.”
“Girl, I keep it extra.” Mike winked and Becca blushed. “You down da hook up wit’ my crew? Brady and Cam want us to hit the dizzy with them.”
Becca’s eyes grew wide. Just being in the same room with Brady made her giggle. There was no way she could spend an entire night with him and maintain adequate brain function. “Sure,” she squeaked out, then frowned and looked at me. She’d finally noticed that I was sitting between her and boy wonder. “If that’s okay with you?” she asked. “I assumed we’d go together. But Logan and the guys don’t really know Mike’s friends.” Becca looked scared, as if she honestly thought I’d deny her a chance to go on a date with Franklin’s A-list.
“No way. Go, have fun. I’m sure we’ll see each other at the dance. It’s not like you’re leaving me all by my lonesome.” I smiled so she’d know I was sincere. Though, somewhere deep down, I was kind of disappointed that she and Mike wouldn’t be joining me. Funny, since last week if you’d told me I’d feel that way, I’d have said you were off your rocker.
“Hey, B, you think Jay-dawg and I can slide a ride to my crib today?”
“Sure. Where do you live?” Becca grinned.
“Cottonwood.”
“No way,” I replied. “That’s really close to me. I’m across the street in The Palms.”
“Fo’ realz? How’d I not know that?” Mike asked in surprise.
“Probably because you didn’t know who I was until last week.” My tone was clipped. I was annoyed that he was back to talking like an idiot. It was Becca, for heaven’s sake. She wouldn’t care that he was smart. He didn’t need to put on a show around her. Unless there was something else he was trying to hide.
“Jay-dawg.” Mike pouted. “Don’t be savage. I thought we’s tight now?”
I turned so that I was face-to-face with Mike and Becca couldn’t see me, then I mouthed the word Stumpy. He narrowed his eyes but thankfully shut his mouth.
Mr. Thompson started his lecture, and for the rest of the hour, every time Mike spoke, it was in Spanish. I wished he would speak Spanish all the time. It wouldn’t even matter that I couldn’t understand him. It made him sound normal. No, better than normal, since none of our other classmates could speak it as well. And, if I was being honest, it was kind of sexy. The words flowed so easily from his mouth. At one point, I even wondered if his tongue was as good at kissing as it was with rolling his R’s.
Then I realized what I’d thought and berated myself thoroughly. What was wrong with me? I just wondered about Mike’s kissing ability. I wasn’t even attracted to him. It hadn’t been that long since I’d had a good make out. But apparently my hormones disagreed. I needed some lip action, like stat. And not from Mike.
The bell rang, and sadly he switched back to English. “Where we hookin’ up after sixth?”
“How about the corner of the main hall and the senior hall?” Becca suggested as we all stood and hea
ded toward our last classes. The spot was way too open for me, but I’d sound like a jerk for saying so. Plus, I seemed to be the only one who cared.
“Aight. Coolio,” Mike answered and held his hand out to her for a fist bump.
I rolled my eyes at Mike, then said to Becca, “I’m leaving. See you in an hour.” Then I started toward my Applied Physics class. I bolted too fast to hear the rest of their good-byes, but they must not have taken long, because seconds later, I heard Mike jogging up behind me.
“Jay-dawg, hold on,” he said as he fell in step next to me.
I responded without looking at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Stop being such a baby. I’m messing with you again. Get used to it. Why’d you take off so fast? Are you too cool to wait for me?” Mike’s tone was lighthearted, until I didn’t respond. “You know, I was joking the other day when I said we should meet where nobody would see us.”
I scoffed. “What? You aren’t as embarrassed to be seen with an intellectual as you are to be an intellectual?” I don’t know why I couldn’t move past his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act. Why should it matter to me? It’s not like we were friends. He was my tutor, and that’s all.
Mike’s reply was defensive. “I’m not embarrassed to be around you, even though it’s obvious that you’re much more selective about the company you keep.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stopped walking so I could face him, then threw a hand on my hip and copped an attitude. “Are you calling me a snob?”
“Are you denying that you are?”
“I might be a snob, but at least I’m not a hypocrite.”
Mike’s jaw clenched, and he cast his eyes around us. There were still a lot of people milling about, so he spoke angrily but quietly—I assume to avoid making a scene. “What is your deal? Why do you care how I act around other people? It doesn’t affect you. It’s not like you spend all day with me. I’ve completely dropped my usual vocabulary when we study. Why isn’t that good enough for you? It’s not like we’re even friends.”
His words stung, even though I’d thought the exact same ones not two minutes ago. I was angry, and I almost let him have it. Except I met his eyes and he looked…well, he looked as hurt as I felt. All my bravado left as I blew out a huge breath and spoke calmly. “I care because I don’t think you’ve changed your vocabulary around me. I think it’s normal around me, and for some reason you’ve changed it around everyone else. And, because I sort of thought that the real Mike—the one who tutors me—might be my friend. But maybe I was wrong.”
The warning bell rang. I waited for a response to my little outburst, but Mike was frozen, a blank expression on his face. Unsure how he felt, I decided I didn’t want to know right now. I walked away and left him alone in the empty hall.
. . . . .
MIKE
What in the freaking world was that? Jayden had spent the entirety of last week calling me names and giving me a hard time, acting like she was better than me. Then she pulls I thought we were friends out of nowhere, trying to make me feel guilty? If she wanted to be friends, she sure had a messed up way of showing it. The worst part is, it totally worked. I felt guilty as hell right now. Her eyes glistened when she yelled at—okay, gently scolded me—and emotionally I caved like a whipped loser. How come I was disappointed in myself, even though she was the one who started it?
Saying we weren’t even friends had been a jerk move on my part, I’ll admit it. But I honestly didn’t think she cared what I thought. I figured that to her, I was a necessary evil. I, on the other hand, already knew that I wanted to be friends with Jayden. Even before Brady called me out at lunch today. All the witty banter might have been annoying to her, but for me it was a relief. It was nice to feel like regular old me when she and I were alone together. I hadn’t realized how tiring it was to keep up my image—until I didn’t have to for forty-five minutes every afternoon. Each time I left the library, part of me wanted to give up the fight.
If she’d wanted a friendship, I probably just ruined my chances. I sat through calculus, wondering if she’d even meet me after school now. I’d completely zoned out and had no clue what was being taught. My teacher had a strict no phones policy, but I weighed my options and decided that I’d better risk detention. I pulled out my phone and sent Jayden a text, hoping she’d see it before she saw me again.
Mike: I’m sorry. I was a butt. Will you forgive me?
I waited and waited. Finally, when I’d given up hope of a response, my phone buzzed.
Jayden: You were a butt.
Jayden: But I might have been a butt too.
Jayden: But not as big of a butt as you were.
Jayden: Your butt was really big.
The messages came in quickly, one on top of the other, and I felt the goofy grin I’d been sporting earlier return.
Mike: Now you’re pushing it. My butt wasn’t that big.
Mike: Actually, most girls think my butt is just right.
Jayden: *Snort* (butt emoji)
I covered up my laugh with a cough. I was lucky my teacher was writing on the whiteboard at this moment. I didn’t even know there was a butt emoji.
Mike: So, am I forgiven or not?
Jayden: I suppose. Does this mean we’re friends now?
Mike: I suppose. Do you still want to come over and study?
Jayden: Duh. Our friendship status was in question, not our tutorship status. Your butt is mine until I have an A in Spanish.
Mike: You said my butt was too big for you.
Jayden: But you said your butt was just right.
Mike: It is. But you’ll have to decide that for yourself. And there have been way too many butts between us in the last few minutes, so I’m going to butt out of the conversation.
Jayden: I’m not sure that second butt was the right kind of but(t).
Mike: Well, I’m sure it was. See you in twenty.
Jayden: Butt of course.
I snickered, and just like that, I was back to normal—unsure how I felt about the giant pain in my neck but knowing that I’d rather deal with it than lose it. Especially if that pain was honestly my friend.
JAYDEN
“Do you need me to come back and get you later?” Becca asked when we pulled up at Mike’s house. Part of me had expected to find a beat-up trailer, even though I knew what the neighborhood was like. I’m not sure why, but I always associated Mike with Eminem. And everybody associates Eminem with trailer parks. By that reasoning, my irrationality was totally logical. Mike’s house was little but cute. It had stucco walls, a tile roof, bright storm shutters, and a couple of palm trees—typical for a home in suburban Florida.
“No, it’s okay. I can walk. It’s got to be less than half a mile,” I answered, not wanting to burden Becca any further.
“But what if it’s dark when you leave?” She frowned.
“I got Jay-dawg covered. I’ll walk her home if it’s dark.” Mike’s answer satisfied my concerned bestie, so she said good-bye and pulled away.
“Your house is nice,” I offered politely as I walked toward the porch.
“Throw your bag by the door and come with me,” Mike replied.
“Where are we going?”
“The bus stop. Trouble will be here any minute.” He laughed at his joke and started up the street. I dropped my bag and followed behind. We didn’t go far before we stopped at a corner with a small greenbelt. A bright yellow school bus pulled around the corner and up to the curb. The doors opened, and a few dozen kids piled out. I tried to guess which ones might be Mike’s siblings but realized he hadn’t told me how old they were.
Finally, two small kids stumbled down the steps, dragging their bags on the ground. “Mikey!” The little girl squealed and ran over to us. She let go of her backpack and threw herself at his leg, wrapping her arms tightly around it and sitting on his foot.
“Why do you sound surprised to see me?” Mike asked, laughing. “You kn
ew I was going to pick you up today. I reminded you this morning when I left you here.”
“I know, but I forgot. Then I remembered, and I got happy.” She smiled up at him. “Can I ride home on your foot?”
“Yes. But only if we switch halfway and I get a turn to ride on yours.” His answer sounded serious, and the little girl became outraged.
“That’s not fair! I can’t walk home with you on my foot. You’re way too big.”
“Then I guess we should all walk on our own feet,” Mike replied. The girl pouted, but she stood and put her backpack on. Mike looked at the little boy who’d been quietly but studiously observing me. “What’s up, little man? How was your day?”
“Good,” the boy answered, then asked, “Who’s this girl?” He pointed in my direction.
His sister finally noticed me, and her nose scrunched up. “Yeah, is this your girlfriend, Mikey?” She gave me the once-over. By the look on her face, it appeared she found me lacking.
Mike glanced over and chuckled apologetically before introducing me. “No, she’s just my regular friend, who happens to be a girl. Her name is Jayden. She’s helping me study this afternoon.”
“But you don’t need help studying,” the girl protested.
“Everyone needs help studying sometimes,” he insisted. That was sweet of him, hiding my inadequacies from the young but precocious mini-Mike. She didn’t look like him because her coloring was darker, but I could already tell her personality was a chip off the old block.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand. “What’s your name?”
“Joy. This is my brother, Jackson. We’re twins.”
“I can tell. You two look alike.”
“Yeah, and we look like our brother Josh, too. But Mikey doesn’t look anything like us, so we always call him the ugly duckling.”
I smashed my lips together to keep from laughing as Jackson jumped to his brother’s defense. “Joy, that wasn’t nice. Mike isn’t ugly. He looks like mom. Do you think mom is ugly?”
Perfectly Misunderstood (The Perfect Series Book 4) Page 8
