{ Chapter 6 } : Someone Who Isn't Like My Ex Monday afternoon, Northwind's courtyard buzzed with energy during lunch hour. I sat on a picnic table underneath a big oak tree with Gabby, nursing chicken sandwiches and bottles of orange juice. "Where's Layla?" she asked after awhile of eating in mutual silence. "I haven't seen her all day." I shrugged and surveyed my surroundings. Avoiding me, obviously. "Beats me. I haven't spoken to her since yesterday." Gabby continued playing with the ends of her red hair. She was obsessed with her long mane. "Weird." Her hand was already itching towards her phone. "I'll try texting her." I was going to tell her that it was no use when my eyes cut to the source of boisterous laughter. In the middle of the open space, three picnic tables were taken over by the athletes - jocks and cheerleaders - of Northwind. Otherwise known as the people with a stick-shoved-up-their-ass-holes complex who were under the false impression that they were some kind of royalty at this institution. Amongst them rested Joshua Brown with his free arm hooked around Layla's neck. That was not something I expected to see - Layla sprawled casually in Joshua's lap as he feathered kisses along her temple. They whispered things in each other's ears and laughed in unison. It was such a domestic picture. Layla's laughter died short when our eyes met from across the field. Guilt pushed its way onto her face and her head hung in a sad manner before she glanced away. "Forget texting her," I said, jutting my chin in the direction of the cramped tables. "She's right there." Gabby followed my line of vision and her mouth dropped open with shock. The sight of our best friend with one of NH's notorious womanizer was enough to have her jaw grazing the ground, I assumed. "Layla and Joshua? You're kidding me. Now I had my suspicions, but this is too good to be true. She better give me the juicy details if they had sex." I cringed, because hell-to-the-no did I ever want to hear about my friends' sexcapades. It was enough whenever Gabby would gross us out with an earful play-by-play of her casual hook-ups. Not Layla, too. "They didn't have sex," I stated matter-of-factly and forced down a mouthful of OJ to distract myself from Layla's table. "You seem pretty damn sure." I nibbled on a spicy potato wedge. "I told you I saw her yesterday." The wheels in our middleman's head were spinning. "And does you seeing her yesterday have anything to do with why she's seated over there instead of here?" "We might have quarrelled." I hated admitting it out loud. Two days later and I still couldn't believe we'd fought like that. Even if there was a first for everything. It took some time for Layla's words to fully seep in. She was right about most of the things she'd spat. The only problem? I was a different girl now. This Jodanna was judgemental, reserved, guarded and protective of her friends. Old Jodanna was carefree, reckless, rebellious and everything else in between. She withheld her own at shots of patron and bottles of JD. But look what that got her - a broken pride and a dead father. Gabriela snorted. "You and Layla fighting? My ass. You're like peanut butter and she's your jelly?" Her analogy had my lips twitching into a smile. For a second, I wondered if I should lie to her. But that thought was quickly dismissed because really, what was the point in that? "We kind of argued. I called her on her shit regarding Joshua, and she told me I pushed away guys because of Joey." Then I added, "Oh, and you're the bread that holds us together. " Gabriela's eyes widened until they seemed like they'd bulge out of her sockets because I'd never so openly and blatantly spoken about Joey. She sprayed out a mouthful of OJ. "Oh-kay," she stretched out the word, like she was threading in dangerous waters. All my friends knew my ex was like the pink elephant in the room. "I was not expecting that." Sounds in the courtyard transformed from a low drone to a loud roar as more people filed in. The source of hollering and endless cheering came from the three notorious tables. From the doors emerged none other than Samuel Adams - a guy I was trying to desperate avoid - looking so cool and collected. He had a friend who strode beside him. Just as tall and just as well-built but with an even rougher edge to him. He raked his fingers through his unruly onyx curls and scanned the area like he didn't give a shit, to put it mildly. They both wore matching black football jerseys. Per usual, the cocky and overconfident mask was well balanced on Sam's face. Hands tucked in his low riding jeans pockets, he and his friend strolled effortlessly through the grass. The mass of students parted like The Red Sea for them. The crowd was in a frenzy upon their entry. Sam carried himself like he owned the place, head held high and shoulders squared back. The jocks exploded into a cacophony of expletive curses and wild noises, and I even saw Layla give a small laugh with Joshua. Sam's friend went down to sit in a free spot beside one of his other buddies - rows of congratulatory cheers boomed from the circle, until everyone in the open space could hear it. "What's happening?" I asked Gabby. She too had angled her body in a way that she could get a better look at the spectacle. "Northwind won a football game last night - Samuel was a big reason for it." Eventually, after what seemed like much encouraging from his peers, Sam rose to stand up on the picnic table. He held up his black jersey with pride, flashing the number twenty-eight. People started chanting 'Panthers, Panthers, Panthers' while fists banged on the tables. The noise escalated to a rowdy level. Sam laughed - a bit boyishly and it transformed his face - while he jokingly roared as loud as everyone else, fueling the energy. As if he could hear my thoughts, Sam's head whipped my way. And then, like our gazes were magnets, they collided. Fast and powerful. I felt flustered, like I'd done something wrong by even staring at him in the first place. Caught red-handed in the act. For a split moment, it was like we were the only ones there. Then he jerked his eyes away, jaw working, and got down from his makeshift podium. His friends patted him proudly on the back even though Sam looked like - and this might have been a small hunch - that he hadn't wanted to put on a show for nearly a hundred students. Sometimes we put on the appearances we believe others seek to witness from us. Sometimes we paste false happiness on our demeanor, hoping that it'll stop the outside from from looking in too deep. "Well if that isn't the highlight of my day - " I spoke sarcastically, not knowing why Sam's little display bothered me so much. "- than I don't know what is." I glanced back towards Gabby, only to realize that she wasn't paying attention to me. Instead, she was shifting uncomfortably and passing a sidelong glance at something on the tables. Or someone, I should say. Sam's friend was staring right back at her, a forlorn expression haunting his face. Something like pure longing flickered on his face as his mouth parted softly in recognition. He raked his fingers through his jet black curls frustratedly. "Who's that?" Gabby craned her head my way, but kept her gaze diverted. "Hunter Warren." The name didn't ring a bell. I took a swig of my drink. "And I repeat - who's that?" She still refused to look at me, shaking her head in denial. The strands of her ruby red mop floated in the breeze. "Just some guy I once hooked up with."