The last thing I needed was for my sister to see pics of me and West plastered all over social media, but it is what it is. I can’t take anything back.
Thanks, Pandora.
Guess this is the price of living in Cypress Pointe. The cost of somehow being dragged into the fishbowl in which the north side’s elite dwell.
After a lengthy conversation with Scar about how West and I were not screwing in the pool tonight, I finally got around to doing homework. Now that that’s done, I’ve worked up the nerve to call Jules.
The line trills and she picks up on the second ring. That feeling of dread comes back almost instantly
“Dude,” she answers. “If this isn’t about you and West banging it out in the pool, I have nothing to say to you. What took you so long to call?”
I laugh a little. It’s nothing short of a miracle she didn’t call me first.
“We weren’t having sex,” I explain, sounding more and more like a politician, working to clear my name after a smear campaign.
“Well, it certainly looked that way to me,” is her sassy response. “And … it also looked that way to Ricky.”
For some reason, hearing that makes my stomach drop suddenly.
“He called you?” I ask as casually as I can.
“Well, it started with him sending a series of texts, but I called him when I got sick of typing,” she shares. “But … yeah. Shit like that’s just hard for him to see, you know?”
I do know this, which is another reason I hate that Pandora and her spies plaster things like this online for all to see. And with zero context at that. Not that context would’ve helped in this situation, but still.
“If it makes you feel any better, I covered for you despite being pretty sure the pic said it all,” she adds. “I told him it probably isn’t what it seems. Not sure he bought it, but I tried.”
A frustrated sigh leaves me, and it isn’t hard to imagine how upset Ricky must be right now.
“Thanks anyway. I’ll give him a call tomorrow,” I decide.
“Mmm … maybe give it some time,” Jules advises sweetly, likely to spare my feelings. “He’s still processing the idea of you actually being with someone else. In his head, I think you’re probably always gonna be his girl. It’ll just take some time to accept that you’re with West now.”
I’m quiet, because I’m not with West, which brings me to the reason I’ve called her tonight. Drawing both feet onto my bed, I get comfortable before diving headfirst into an uncomfortable conversation. Falling back, I slink beneath a blanket and stare at the twinkling lights I’ve strung haphazardly across my ceiling with pushpins.
“Jules, I need advice,” I admit, because it’s the simple truth. “But first … I need to tell you something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
“I’m listening,” she says sweetly.
I force out a sharp breath and just go for it. “There is something going on between me and West, but it’s not nearly as clean cut as that.”
“Sounds juicy. Do continue,” she teases, which makes me smile a little.
“The truth is that West and I have been in this really weird space,” I start. “And it gets weirder and more intense by the day, but … I’m not really sure how to handle it.”
“Well, that’s an easy one to help with,” she chimes in. “You slingshot your panties at the guy and say to hell with all the rest of it. I mean, you have seen him, right?”
I’d forgotten how biased she is when it comes to the triplets, but that comment quickly reminds me.
“It’s not that simple, Jules.”
“Okay, okay. Then tell me why it’s complicated and I’ll do my best to help you figure things out,” she offers. “That’s what besties are for.”
I swear I love this girl. She never misses a beat.
“First, I need to put a disclaimer out there,” I begin. “You need to know that I withheld information from you, but only because I know you love me. I knew that, if I shared what I was dealing with, you’d feel compelled to advocate for me and things would get really messed up if that happened.”
I pause, letting her digest that first.
“I know how things work at schools like mine,” I explain. “The kind of pull and influence the parents of these kids have is off the charts, and I was—am—cautious about rocking the boat too much. Stepping on the wrong toes could mean putting a target on my back, and you know as well as anyone, I can’t afford to screw things up anymore.”
My heart feels heavy, knowing that everything I’ve worked so hard for has all been because of Scar. I have to make something of myself, so I can be something for her—a role model, a provider. I might not have it all together by the time she heads off for college, but I’ll be close. I can pick up the cost of her schooling, put a roof over her head if she stays local, give her some type of stability for once in her life. I know what it feels like to fly without a net and I want so much more for my sister.
Because of this, I’ll always do whatever it takes to make it.
Whatever it takes for her.
“Still waiting to hear what this has to do with that hot photo. The one you say didn’t capture West doing a little deep-sea drilling,” she teases.
“For the last time, Jules—”
“I know, I know,” she sighs. “But you cannot tell me that was all innocent.”
When I don’t immediately answer, she reaches her own conclusion.
“I knew it!” she screeches.
“There was only … hand stuff, so settle down,” I clarify.
“You totally slutted out for him!”
“Jules! Shut up before your parents hear!” I shout back.
“Sorry, but I knew that wasn’t innocent.” It’s a little too late to whisper, but she tries anyway.
“We were only kissing in the pic. Luckily, whoever was spying got there late and missed the rest, which I couldn’t possibly be more grateful for,” I add.
“Well, he might not have defiled you tonight, but from what I see, you two are definitely headed that way.”
“You mean from what you saw?” I ask, but when she fails to answer, I know what that means. “You’re looking at it again, aren’t you, perv?”
“I mean … I’m not NOT looking at it,” she admits.
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re fucking lucky,” she counters, making me laugh again.
“Would you focus, please?” I ask playfully. “Still trying to bear my soul here.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Continue.”
Shaking my head, I move on. “Anyway, this all pertains to West because, well, before things went way sideways with us … he did some pretty shitty things to me.”
That part is difficult to admit. Mostly because I know what it makes me look like—weak, desperate, like a fool.
At least those are the things I would think of someone in this situation.
“You mean, like, removing the tires from your car?” she asks, reminding me she hadn’t missed that little update from Pandora.
“Well, that’s one of many things he’s done, but … yeah. Stuff like that,” I admit.
“Okay, so, I guess the important thing to understand is why,” she interjects. “I mean, you don’t have to give details if you don’t want to, but if he was targeting you, there has to be a reason. Unless it’s just that he sucks.”
The comment brings back the deep frustration that’s never out of reach. “Believe me, Jules, I’ve tried to figure it out.”
She’s quiet again and, like always, I hear her wheels turning loudly inside her head.
“Just ask me,” I sigh. “Whatever it is, lay it out there and I’ll tell you the truth.”
Seeing as how I’ve held this info for far too long already, I won’t hold back anymore. Not with her.
She takes a deep breath and then speaks her mind. “Okay, so, how did you two get from point A to point B? From this dark place you’re telling me about, to … where you two are in that pic from tonight?”
It’s a valid question, but I’m not sure I can answer it the way she’d like me to. For starters, West and I are still in a dark place—present tense. I’m actually beginning to think that’s kind of our default setting.
Dark.
Cruel.
Realizing she sees it too—the contrast between what makes sense and the weird place West and I have settled into—I feel like an idiot.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to say to that, Jules,” I openly admit. “It’s like, a switch got flipped and I just … I don’t hate him like I did at first. And he’s not as toxic as he was either. Don’t get me wrong, though; he’s still no Prince Charming,” I clarify.
“Is it strictly sexual?” she asks. “Like, is that the only thing pulling you two together?”
I think about that for a moment, and then remember that last kiss we shared. The one that made it seem like he knew he’d walk away feeling just a little emptier once we went our separate ways tonight. The one that makes me wonder if he’s thinking about me right now, too.
I mean, is that so crazy?
“I thought that at first,” I reply, “but I’m not so sure anymore. It feels deeper at times.”
She goes quiet to think again.
“What’s your gut saying?” is her next question.
Again, I don’t answer right away, because I want to really search deep before I do.
“I’d like to say I know the answer to that, Jules, but I don’t exactly trust my gut anymore.” And there it is. The truth. The reason I’ve called her tonight.
“Do you think he’s starting to care about you?”
Flashes of the brief moments of clarity I’ve had over the months come to me. Like, when West stepped between me and Mike. When he jumped into the pool to save me. Or when he grilled me about the bruises on my shoulder. The night he spent in the hospital with me.
When he touched me tonight.
“As crazy as it sounds … I think he might. Does that make me delusional?”
She laughs at that. “You’re the smartest person I know, Blue. So, no, that’s not even an option.”
“Then what is all this?” I ask, unashamed by how uncertain I feel. With her, there’s never any judgment.
“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “I think that, despite how things were in the beginning, you’re both feeling something powerful for each other. And most importantly, I don’t think you’re crazy. You’re not imagining any of this.”
She has no idea how big a relief it is to hear her say this. Because, honestly, I wondered if I was misreading his signs, seeing what I want to see.
“My only advice is to proceed with caution,” she gently warns. “As far as I’m concerned, all guys are to be fed with long-handled spoons until proven innocent. Not just West. So, while I’m all for keeping your heart open, never forget to keep your eyes open, too, you know?”
The tension leaves me and I’m so glad I opened up to her.
“Thanks, Jules. You always know what to say.”
“No problem, kid,” she teases. “Just remember this when I call you with boy trouble.”
I laugh, because we both know she’ll never take a guy seriously enough to let him give her trouble.
“Anytime,” I promise.
She’s quiet and it makes me suspicious.
“You’re looking at that pic again, aren’t you?” I accuse with a laugh.
Caught, she stutters a bit, then doesn’t bother lying to me. Instead, the line goes dead when she hangs up, and I can only shake my head at her.
She’s crazy, but she’s also my best friend. The one who always knows how to make me feel better. Her advice is sound, suggesting that I keep my guard up within reason.
And I can do that.
As I begin to think about regionals in a couple weeks, my immediate plan is to keep West at arm’s length. Still harboring some pretty deep-seated trust issues, I don’t think we’re ready for whatever aftermath we would face if sex were added to the equation. However, if I find him harder to resist than I expect, I’m also committed to not beating myself up if I give in.
As for the future, who knows where West and I will end up, but wherever we’re headed, we’ll get there at my pace.
Which, for now, is set to super slow.
Well, mostly.
… Kind of.
Why don’t we just say I’m a work in progress.
