Chapter 20 Friends?
GINGER:
“How hard did my brother hit you?”
“Enough to trust my eyes.” “I saw him change into something that wasn't natural, Ginger. His girlfriend too.
“Now you're reaching.”
“I can understand why you're covering this up, but you have to know this is just as important to me as it is you.” "I get the feeling this has something to do with my origins.”
“There's no story here, Jayden. Werewolves don't exist.” I sit beside him, taking his hands in mine. I hope my tone sounds as believable as possible when I say, “Believe me, I wish they were. But this is real life. Not some fantasy cooked up by professionals. Ghosts, werewolves, witches, fae… none of them are real.”
>
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you're probably right.” “Change the topic please, I already feel like some sort of psycho.”
“Alright.” I squeeze his knee, retrieving my study material. “Let's hit the books.”
Time stretches as Jayden and I reacquaint ourselves with the syllabus. We compare notes and explore new topics that were covered in class.
Jayden being the annoying smart ass he is, catches onto the general idea quickly, and even gives some interesting takes when asked.
He doesn't bring up the werewolf talk again, but every now and then I feel him staring down the side of my face. Of course when I look, he's quick to cover up by pretending to ask questions on concepts I'm sure he's knowledgeable in.
I wonder what that's about.
We round up early since we decided to just run through the basics. I check the time after dropping my books in my bag. 9:27P.M. Great. Finished with extra points.
I turn to him, zipping up my bag. “Are there any suggestions you'd like to add before I go?”
He touches the back of his neck. “Nope. Just an apology.”
My mouth stays closed, waiting for him to go on, and he does.
“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”
“What part? Turning a trip to the hospital into something straight out of Fast and Furious or baiting me about my stepbrother?”
>“Both.”
“That’s okay. It's in the past now.”
“Friends?” He stretches his palm.
>I stare, waiting for him to laugh and say he was j joking or something.
None of that happens. Instead, his h His gaze stays on me, eyes expectant. Lips lifted in that boyish smirk of his.
“Fine.”
I stand, throwing my backpack over one shoulder. Jayden rises too and walks me to the door.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Probably.”
He stops in the doorway, patting down his pockets. “Hold on, let me get my key.”
“Your key?” I sputter. “You have a car?”
But he's already disappeared into the room. I hear the distinct whoosh of drawers sliding open and shut, a thud as the bedlamp is being knocked over, and then finally, he reappears in front of me, key fob in hand.
“I do,” he replies. “Saved up for it along with my college fees from the hush money Mildred sends whenever he feels guilty.”
His voice has this bitter edge to it when he says that. And suddenly, I'm not seeing the boy who sometimes dumped milkshakes down my back or passed backhanded comments about me sophomore year.
No, all I'm seeing is a tortured soul. Hidden behind layers of cruelty, masculine charm, and popularity.
And I don't know how to feel.
Jayden must read the change in the air, because he switches gears. “Let's get going. I'll drop you.”
“It's no problem, really. My mom will be here pretty soon anyways,” “You need to get some rest.”
“I can walk you. Keep you company till she comes?”
“Bedrest, Jayden. I mean it.”
“At least let Pauline see you out,” he negotiates. “She should be in her private quarters.”
“Fine.”
“Thanks for today,” he says, stepping back towards his room. “I mean it.”
I nod, watching the door close after him, then I twist and start heading down the stairs, heels thudding against the polished dark wood. Pauline waits with me at the gates while I skim through my phone log to know if she already reached out. There are seven red missed calls silenced by DND.
Two from Roman. And five more from my mom.
Grayson hadn't bothered.
My finger glides onto the call button.
“I am one minute away, Ginny. Are you out?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, listening to the low rumble of a car approaching. “I can hear you coming.”
Sure enough, her SUV rolls into view. Luxurious. Black. Efficient. Headlights shining from beyond the gate.
Torren buzzes her in.
My mother kills the engine on parking and steps out, eyes on the mansion behind us.
“This is where your friend lives?”
Trust me I had the same reaction too. I want to say but I see the expression on her face. Suspicion, plain and simple, mixed with a growing amount of dread.
Am I missing something here?
“Let's go, baby,” she says.
I look towards Pauline, who’s now donning an unsure smile of her own. “Mom, this is—”
“Now.”
She doesn't even try to acknowledge her. I pile into the car, and she follows, driving out the way she came.
Neither of us speak, the muffled drone of tires the only sound between us. But I can feel her stewing. Shoulders tense. Knuckles tight on the wheel.
A part of me wants to ask what that was all about. I don't. Because if I have to push one more answer out of anyone today, I will flip.
So I lean my head against the window, watching the trees blur past us in the dark.
It's only when we pull into the driveway and I hear the usual whine of the car dying, that she speaks again.
“What’s your friend's last name?”
My ears perk up. “Rivera. Why?”
Her breath falters. She's quick to cover up, but it's pointless.
“Nothing dear,” she says, unlocking the doors. “You just be careful around that boy. And also, tell me where you're going next time.”
>
I march right after her. “Why? What's wrong with him?”
But she continues walking, jaw locked tight. “Now is not the time, sweetie.”
“Oh, just like it wasn't the time to tell me about my best friends’ potential transfer?”
She winces.
I don't stop. “When will it ever be the right time with you?”
“After you hear what we have to say.”
My hand catches hers on the door knob, eyes blaring. “I can't wait that long, mom. You tell me this instant, or I'm not going in there.”
“The Riveras are known round the packs—even the town, for being a family of wolf-hunters.”
“That's impossible. Humans remain oblivious to the existence of werewolves.”
“Not all. You'd be surprised who knew what. Because his father, Mildred?” She looks straight into my eyes, yanking the door open.
“I once dated him.”