Chapter 21 Grayce

The airport was packed. Men and women and children hurried through the terminals with their luggage, desperate to catch their next flight. Businessmen and women in nice suits and ladies in tropical dresses scurried the halls, anxious for their long-awaited flights to their vacation destinations. I wished I was going somewhere fancy with them, somewhere far away, where I wouldn’t have to do homework or deal with Jaxon. Aruba, maybe. Or Alaska. Alaska would be nice, and nobody would want to join me there.
Mom and I sat together in the airport’s quaint but tacky little coffee shop, people watching and chatting. I was so sad to see her go already, but I knew even a night with her and part of the day was more than I could have asked for, especially since it was a surprise visit. Her flight was leaving in less than an hour, and I wanted to take advantage of what little time we had left.
“Give Doug and Aidyn my love when you get home,” I said. I sipped my pumpkin spice latte, a favorite for both Mom and me, and picked at my blueberry scone. Total white girl status.
“You’ll have to come to California for the next visit,” Mom said. “We’d love for you to stay with us.” She smiled at me and reached across the table, resting her hand on top of mine. Suddenly I wanted to cry, but I knew that if I cried, then she would cry, too, so I looked away from her instead and took a deep breath.
“California is lame,” I said. “It’s warm and tropical and on the beach. Gross.” I cracked a smile for her, and Mom chuckled.
“Grayce, you seem happy with life. I’m proud of you every day. You do know that right?”
“Of course,” I said. “Thanks, Mom.”
Silence settled over us, a comfortable silence that allowed us to finish our coffee. A moment later, Mom spoke again, looking intently at my face. “Your friend Jaxon … he seems like a good guy.” She stared at me now, her striking blue eyes reading the lines etched on my face like the master daughter-manipulator she was.
“Jaxon?” I repeated. I scoffed for good measure. I drained the dregs of my Latte, wishing with all my might that this conversation wasn’t happening right now. “Jaxon is whatever. He’s a dick sometimes.”
And he’s got a nice one, too.
“Is he?” Mom asked innocently. “How so?”
“He just is.” I could sense the aggravation in my tone, and I knew Mom could, too, but she didn’t let up. The truth was, I couldn’t think of Jaxon anymore without getting all hot and bothered.
“Is there something going on between you two?” she asked. I shook my head and looked away from her, trying to focus on anything else but this incredibly uneasy moment of mother and daughter bonding.
“Nope. He’s just a friend. If even that. I report on him for football, that’s it. He’s not my type.”
“What is your type?” Mom asked.
“I don’t have a type,” I said. My irritation was growing. I felt cornered, stalked by a wild animal who wasn’t about to let up until she got what she wanted from me.
“Everyone has a type,” she said.
“Men are pigs,” I said and looked her straight in the eye. “They are mean, arrogant, and controlling. I don’t need a guy to complete me, Mom, that’s your department.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, but my mom didn’t react negatively. She smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders.
“Not everyone is your dad,” she said quietly.

Having to say goodbye to my mom was rough, so after her flight took off, I jumped in a taxi back to campus and had them drop me off at the bar for a drink before I went home. I never realized how much I missed my mom until she came and then had to leave again. I’d always been a bit of a mama’s girl, even now, and my only solution to missing her more was to do what every college student did; drown my sorrows in booze. It was obviously the adult thing to do, and I was becoming impressively good at it. Alex was working, and that was enough to keep me there even though Shawn was already sitting at the bar playing on his phone. While I cherished his friendship, some moments made Shawn harder to deal with than others.
“At least she came to visit, yeah?” Alex said, mixing me up one of her famous concoctions. I didn’t ask what was in it because I feared to know what I was about to drink. With Alex, it was never something simple. “That must have been a pleasant surprise.”
“It was incredible,” I said with a sigh. “I wish she lived here, though.”
“It’s okay, babe, you know you’ve got me,” Alex said with a smile. “Although, I can understand how that might not be a comfort.” She slid me the drink she’d conjured up and winked. After tasting it, I made sure she’d turned away before I allowed the overwhelming taste of alcohol to dribble out of my mouth and back into the cup.
“And me,” Shawn added. He didn’t look up from his phone, though, which made it clear he really did mean it.
“Aw,” I said.
“And Shawn,” Alex said. “And from the looks of it, it seems like you have Jaxon Tate, too.” Her words caught me off guard, and since I was in the middle of braving another taste of her vodka/whiskey/rum concoction, I nearly choked on it this time around. Shawn, too, looked up abruptly, suddenly interested in the conversation like someone had thrown a comic book in his face.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Shawn agreed. “What does that mean?”
“Not much,” Alex said with a shrug. “It’s just that you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with him.”
“Here we go again,” I said. For some reason that I couldn’t quite pinpoint, I felt defensive suddenly, like Alex had caught me in a nasty act of sexual fantasies. “So?” I said. “It’s my job. Besides, we’re friends.”
“Are you?” She leaned over the counter, squinting at me. “Just friends?”
“Just friends,” I insisted. “I have no feelings for the douche whatsoever.”
I couldn’t tell her the truth, not really, because I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that every time I was in the vicinity of Jaxon Tate, I wanted to rip off my clothes and throw myself at him.
“I know that,” Alex said. “But are you friends? I mean, does he treat you like a friend should treat another friend?”
“What are you talking about?” I took a sip of my drink, afraid to hear the answer. This time I managed to get my first swallow down, but only since I’d held my breath.
“What kind of friend stuff do you do?” Alex asked. “I mean, aside from dinner with your mom or drinking here. Do you do fun stuff together? Friend stuff? Movies? Bowling?”
“Are they friends, or are they dating?” Shawn asked. It didn’t seem like he’d be pleased with either answer. Alex ignored him.
“Have you met his friends?”
“I don’t want to,” I said. “I met one of them, and that’s plenty.”
“Ah,” Alex said. “So, you guys are secret friends.”
“They know about me,” I said.
“They know you’re reporting on him, right?”
“Why are you such a bitch?” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to lose my cool, but Alex seemed hell-bent on making sure any acceptance I’d felt towards Jaxon was nipped in the bud.
“I’m just saying.” She raised her hands in the air as if surrendering. “I don’t want you to get close to him and then get hurt. I think he’s using you.”
“Using me for what?”
“Stardom,” Shawn said before Alex could answer. He reached for his glass of water, got a hold of some ice, and crunched it loudly. “The more awesome articles you write about him, the better he looks to everyone else. He’s reaping the benefits, and you’re just there to make him look good.”
“Thanks a lot, guys.” I gulped my drink, not even having to hold my breath this time. I was both hurt and angry, but only because I knew that Alex and Shawn were probably right, and I hated that. I had become comfortable around Jaxon, too comfortable, but it seemed too early in the game to trust him. He was acting sweet, pleasant, charming, and funny … but why? Why me? Because I made him look good, that was why, and we all knew it.
“He thinks he’s all that. Like he’s the coolest thing since sliced bread. Every girl wants him, and every guy wants to be him.” Shawn sniffed loudly and rubbed his nose.
“Yeah, well, it suits him,” I mumbled. I was only half-heartedly paying attention at this point. All Shawn ever had to say about Jaxon was nothing but bad, so I was used to it.
“He’s just so immature. Like, what do women see in him? He’s not smart, he just--”
“Someone sounds like they could be jealous,” Alex said. Despite her dislike for Jaxon, there was a pretty good chance she liked Shawn even less.
“Me? Jealous of that jerk?” Shawn turned to glower at her, completely taken aback. “Please. I have standards. Jaxon is such an asshole that it’s a shame anyone ever gets involved with him. I think he’s—”
“You think he’s what?” I asked. “You think he’s egotistical and a womanizer and a closet jerk?”
“Not a closet jerk,” Shawn said. “He’s the kind of guy that probably picked on people like us in high school.” I exchanged a look with Alex, wishing I could defend Jaxon’s honor and tell Shawn that, no, Jaxon Tate was different from the other stereotypical jocks who bullied people for fun. But I couldn’t because it was true.
“Bro, do you ever stop talking?” Alex asked suddenly.
“Look, all I’m saying is, people like Jaxon Tate are the reason kids commit suicide in high school.”
“No one has ever committed suicide because of Jaxon,” I said and hoped to God that was true. Even if I had spent my after-school days holed up in my bedroom with tears streaming down my face as I surveyed my “cow stature” in the mirror, I’d never entertained the thought of suicide.
“Maybe not because of him,” Shawn said. “But because of people like him.”
“People change,” I insisted. I was starting to sound desperate, even to me. “People grow up. High school is hard for a lot of us, but it’s the real world that determines who you are.”
“Did your dad change?” Shawn asked, and both Alex and I whipped our heads over to look at him. My jaw dropped as I stared at him.
“Why would you say that?”
“Did he? Did he ever grow up and stop hurting you and your mom?”
“Shawn,” Alex said. “Stop.” Something in her voice made him put his hands up in surrender, lips pursed. He couldn’t look at me, and that was probably a good thing because I was considering punching him in the face. When I’d met Shawn our Freshmen year, he’d been my only friend before I found Alex. I’d told him things that I never, ever thought would he’d repeat.
“How dare you—” I started to say, but Shawn was distracted by something else.
“Speak of the Devil,” he said, and for some weird and insanely awkward moment, I thought he was talking about my dad. But when Alex and I looked up as the front door to the bar opened, it was only Jaxon that came in, hands in the pockets of his jacket as he approached us.
“Well howdy, friends,” he said, grinning broadly. Much to Shawn’s displeasure, he took a seat on the empty barstool between Shawn and me. Had Shawn not been such a pushover and a bit of a baby, I’m sure he would have hit him. Or tried to, anyway. I was glad for the interruption because I had been ready to take Shawn down myself.
“Alex, can I get a beer?” he asked.
“Sure thing,” she said. I was impressed by how well she hid the fact that we had just been talking about him, and not necessarily respectable talk, either.
“What are you doing here?” Shawn asked as if the bar was only permitted to those of us with useless social skills and zero charisma.
“Having a drink,” Jaxon said, nodding a thank you at Alex as she handed him a beer. “Is that okay with everyone?”
“Fine by me,” I said and sipped my drink. I could feel the buzz go to my head, and for the first time that day some of my anxieties and worries began to fade away.
“It’s whatever,” Shawn said. He adjusted the glasses that were perched on his nose and sighed heavily. It was clearly not just whatever, but Jaxon didn’t seem to care one way or the other what Shawn thought of him being there. “I have to go anyway,” he said, digging into his pocket for a wad of crumpled dollar bills. Shawn slapped some on the counter for Alex, gathered up his jacket, and walked out, but not before shooting me a knowing look as he passed. I ignored it because I was still trying to fight the urge to bloody his nose.
“He’s a bit of a douche, isn’t he?” Jaxon said as Shawn sulked out the door. I snorted and rolled my eyes.
“He thinks the same thing of you, Tate.”
“Well, yeah, but I know I’m a douche. He’s a douche without realizing he’s a douche, and that makes him even douchier.”
“He’s a good man,” I said, and Jaxon didn’t have to know how wonderful Shawn hadn’t just been . . . to any of us.
“He’s a dork.”
“So am I.”
“So are you,” Jaxon agreed. “I guess that means you two are perfect for each other.”
“We’re not together. I’ve told you that six thousand and eight times now,” I said. Jaxon said nothing to this, but he was still eyeing the door Shawn had disappeared through.
“You’re straight, aren’t you?” he asked finally. “I mean, I know Alex prefers tacos to hot dogs, but is that the case with you, too?”
“You are such a dick,” I said, and Alex flipped him the bird. “It is funny you bring that up, though, because just recently, I figured it was about time you returned the wingman favor to me.” The truth was, I hadn’t been thinking about it … not even a little bit. But any chance to make Jaxon uncomfortable for a turn, and I’d take it and run.
“What?” he said. Apparently, I wasn’t speaking his language anymore. A man for me? Oh, the horror.
“Well, I mean, come on. You didn’t think I’d be the only one finding a piece of ass for you, now did you? I’m a human being. I have needs, too,” I said.
“Oh, is that what you are? A human being?” Jaxon sipped at his beer. “I wasn’t sure for a while.”
“Shut up.” I punched him in the arm and turned in my seat to check out what kind of options I might have tonight. Unlike Jaxon, I had standards, and none of these guys were doing it for me.
“Have you picked someone yet?” Jaxon asked after a few minutes. “Preferably before my ass fuses to this seat?” He turned to scope out the bar with me, and the scent of aftershave and spicy cologne wafted in my direction. From the corner of my eye, I saw his arm muscles contract as he laced his hands behind his head and leaned back against the counter. Despite my sudden yearning to reach out and run my fingers up and down his arm, I cleared my throat and tried to focus on something—anything—else.
“I’m trying exceedingly hard not to slap you right now,” I said. “Stop asking for it.”
“What about him?” Jaxon asked, pointing to a dorky looking guy with braces and chronic acne. I glared at Jaxon, doing my best stink eye. At least, I tried to give him the stink eye, but it wasn’t working in my favor.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Jaxon asked, so I elbowed him instead. “Why are you always beating me up?” he whined, rubbing the sore spot.
“How about that guy?” Alex said. She leaned between us and pointed to a boyishly cute, athletic blond who was reading a book and sipping a drink.
“I could be okay with that,” I said. Jaxon raised his eyebrows, looking anything but impressed.
“Loser,” he said.
“Why is he a loser?” I demanded. “Because he’s cute? He looks sweet? Because he knows how to read and you don’t? What could it possibly be?”
“I don’t know,” Jaxon said with a sigh. “He just looks like a jackass.”
“Every girl you’ve ever hooked up with has been some spastic bimbo, and you want to judge the one man in this bar who looks like he has any potential?”
“I’m trying to be a good wingman.”
“You’re trying to waste my time.”
“Fine,” Jaxon said. He stood up from the stool and flashed that phony smile at me. “Watch and learn.”