Something More (7 page)

“I’ve seen this one,” he said as he watched it.

“So you won’t be so sad if you miss the ending?” Ethan asked. The tension between Jamison and Ethan had grown over the weeks. Nyla couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It seemed to be more of a resentment coming from Ethan. Jamison didn’t seem to notice, which seemed to trigger something more in Ethan. She tried to ignore it, but she didn’t like the way it was beginning to make her feel. She felt pulled, torn, confused. She felt in the middle of it, in the middle of them.

“If he’s trying to start over, just let him,” Emma told her later that night as Nyla lounged on her bed, her laptop open to Status Quo, the social media site they used since high school, video-chatting with her best friends.

“I am; you’re not listening. There’s this tension between Ethan and him. I haven’t had a major problem with him since he came here. I mean at first, I was leery of him, but I think he’s proven that he really is trying to start over.” If Nyla couldn’t overanalyze and obsess with her friends, then who could she overanalyze and obsess with?

“Just don’t give him too much leniency in his new beginning; a frog can’t change its spots,” Dex chimed in. Emma sat on his lap in a dorm room, and they looked perfectly content and completely adorable in their love.

“That’s a leopard.” Emma looked at him, and then rolled her eyes to Nyla.

“I know the expression, but in Jamison’s case a frog is fitting, don’t you think? The
de-tongue-onator
should be called a toad even.” Nyla giggled at the way he said de-tongue-onator, like Arnold Schwarzenegger said terminator.

“Hey, we all have first kisses we’re not proud of.” Nyla said as she shrugged. Dex and Emma shared a look. “What are you not telling me?” she asked, leaning into the screen like she was about to receive bad news. The kind of news like her cat was dead. Nyla bracing herself. “The summer between eighth and ninth grade, Dex and I had our first kiss.”

“I know, Jimmy Staggs and Julie Parker.” Nyla felt a bit relieved she knew this story. Jimmy had ambushed Emma when they got coke slushies from the Speedway gas station, while Dex had visited Julie when she was babysitting his neighbor’s daughter. They had kissed on the front stoop.

“No, it was each other. I guess deep down we’ve always been in love with each other. We told you Jimmy and Julie because we didn’t want it to get weird among us all,” Dex said, looking down.

“So I jumped at a first kiss with a jerk because I didn’t want to be the odd guy out, but I’m still the odd guy out.” Nyla sat up. “Not that I EVER wanted to kiss you, Dex.”

“Gee, thanks.” He rolled his eyes and huffed in fake offense. “The point is, if this guy has turned over a new leaf, great, but the Jamison we all know and hate, always has an angle and ulterior motive,” Dex continued.

“Well, I think it’s sweet. Maybe he likes you. Ohhh, what if he’s always liked you but never knew how to tell you?” Interupted Emma, the hopeless romantic.

“Jamison never struggled for admirers or reasons to flirt with random girls. I’m not a random girl; that’s not it, I’m sure.” Nyla shook her head.

“I just don’t trust him; he’s up to something. Why don’t you just come out and ask him?” Dex’s level was inching up the protect-o-meter.

“I did the first day I saw him. He said he liked the opportunity that Roosevelt offered.” Nyla shrugged.

“So to recap,” Emma said, putting on her sleuthing face. “Tonight, he sat there and watched the movie with you guys, but occasionally brushed his hand against you, even kind of massaging your foot, but didn’t say anything about it?” Emma recapped the whole reason Nyla had video-chatted with them.

“Yes, and Ethan didn’t notice because my feet were under the covers, but if he had known he’d have gone through the roof. And it doesn’t seem like Ethan to be so hot-tempered, but he is when Jamison and I are involved. Maybe I should just remove myself from the situation and be done with it.” She lay on her arm and looked at them sideways.

“But how does it make you feel?” Dex asked, his face serious.

“How does it make me feel?” she asked, confused.

“Did you get the butterflies you girls always talk about?” He smiled and added, “Sounds like you are in quite a predicament,” Dex tsked as he turned to Emma, and she turned to him. “I’m so glad we chose boring Purdue,” he said as she giggled and then replied, “Me too,” hugging him.

“You guys are no help,” Nyla grumbled.

“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?” Emma asked, arms still draped around Dex.

“Yes, I’ll be making the lonely trek by myself, probably listening to rap music too loud and mauling out on junk food.”

“Whoa-whoa! Turn down the drama; it’s a four-hour drive. I think you’ll be OK.” Dex shook his head, laughing.

“I can’t wait to see you; I know we vid-chat a lot, but to see you for real. . .” Emma began bouncing on Dex’s lap.

“I know; I’ve missed you two.” Nyla adjusted and sat Indian style, elbows on her knees, and rested her face in her hands.

“Edinburg for after Thanksgiving Day shopping, and maybe we can go into Indianapolis to do some shopping there too. How does that sound?” Emma asked.

“Fun,” Dex said sarcastically.

“You know it’s your favorite part of being our best friend; you love it.” Nyla teased.

Chapter 7

Nyla exhaled happily as she returned to her seat in the lecture hall. Turning in that last test meant that midterms were finally over. Nyla packed up her bag as she prepared to leave. Jamison sat waiting for her. She didn’t know why he always waited for her and walked her home, but he did. Ethan had stopped meeting her weeks ago after that class when she continually declined his offer to spend Friday afternoons together after lunch. She liked spending time with him, but sometimes just wanted to be alone. Nyla enjoyed being alone more than most people did. Sometimes in high school, she’d even disappear on Emma and Dex, not speaking to them for days except at school. Ethan seemed OK with giving her the space she needed. She liked him. She kept reminding herself that they were a nice fit, but a nice fit didn’t mean a good fit. She wanted the kind of fit that when you were separated they were the only person you wanted to be with. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever have a fit like that. She hadn’t felt it yet with anyone she dated, not that she dated a lot, only Brad at summer camp. She’d never had luck with boys at her school. She’d hear a rumor that someone liked her, but then it would be squashed by a rumor about her, that she was adopted from a pack of wolves or that she ate her boogers. Her favorite was the time the rumor spread that she ate seaweed that her mom had shipped in from another vet in northern California because it was a diuretic and that was why she was so thin. The rumors faded almost as soon as they appeared, but they made her social life non-existent. Since Ethan stopped appearing and waiting for her, Jamison took it upon himself to fill that role. She didn’t completely mind; she was beginning to like the new Jamison when he wasn’t being too nice to her; that always weirded her out.

“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?” he asked as he stood with her and put his bag over his shoulder.

“Yes. I still have to still work tomorrow, but I was going to leave when I got off.” She followed him out of the lecture hall.

“I was going to go down this evening, but if you wanted to ride together, you know, save gas, I could wait until tomorrow or Sunday even so we could get a fresh start.”

“Can I think about it?” He slowed to match her pace, walking beside her.

“Sure, no pressure here.” They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The next day, Nyla watched the clock, having only a few hours to go until she packed for her week home. She was anxious and nervous, but not about being home—about the ride home. She had decided to take Jamison up on his offer; they were leaving in the morning. Now she was watching the clock because Ethan promised he’d stop by before he headed home. Angela walked a couple to the door and came back to the counter.

“We should close up early; it’s been dead all day.” She looked at her nails.

“I’m OK, I still have to pack, but we’re not leaving until the morning,” Nyla said.

“Yes, you’re going back to Indiana with my boyfriend, aren’t you? No funny business.” Angela wagged her finger, and Nyla stiffened a little.

“Um,” she began.

“Tsk, tsk; I’m only teasing. But you will tell me if he says anything about me, right?” She leaned on the counter as the front door opened.

“Of course.” Nyla smiled at Ethan as he came in returning her smile. She rose and met him at the front desk. He embraced her and then kissed her. She wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection, but Angela had already wandered away. Besides, she had to admit his kissing was improving though it still wasn’t earthmoving.

“I’m leaving town now. Call me tomorrow once you’ve settled in. I want to hear all about your trip,” he said into her hair as he hugged her close. She easily read between the lines.

“I will. Be safe.” She hugged him back.

“You too.” He kissed her forehead and was out the door. She walked to the door and watched him pull away. The crisp fall day blowing red and orange leaves around his car, he gave her a final wave, drove down the street, and disappeared around the corner. She suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. Alarmed, she continued to stare after him trying to determine what it meant that she felt that way. It wasn’t until Angela returned that she even remembered where she was. This only left her with more questions.

Early the next day, Nyla buzzed up Jamison as she surveyed her apartment. She thought she had everything she needed. Her suitcases were by the door, and her book bag and computer bag were sitting by her purse on the couch. She unlocked the door and went to the bathroom to get her jacket from the closet. The weather was mild for this time of year, but she didn’t want to risk the cold. She surveyed herself. She wore a pair of comfortable skinny jeans and a long-sleeved, cotton, fitted T-shirt. She buttoned her trench coat and tied the belt, and pulled tip of her hair loose from the collar up since it was already in a high pony tail. She wore her bangs down, wisped to the side. Her ensemble was complete with her brown boots.

Jamison came in wearing a pair of distressed jeans, layered t-shirts, and black boots. She entered the living room, and he let out a low whistle.

“What?” She retrieved her purse and messenger bag.

“You look nice, like a real Chicagoan, too trendy for our small Midwestern hometown.” He smiled as he threw her computer bag over his shoulder and wheeled the suitcases out the door.

“You do too. What are they going to think of us when we get back?” She giggled.

“I’ve always been stylish.” Jamison only mocked his cocky attitude.

“Says you. I had my own style in high school.” Nyla tried to lock the door as he carried her suitcases down the stairs. She watched his arms flex under the weight of her bags. His shoulders seeming broader than she remembered. He stopped at the landing and looked up at her; she blushed and turned back to the stubborn door. Finally, after three tries and the weight of his stare, she turned the lock and they were on their way.

“Do you want to stop and eat first? I haven’t had breakfast yet,” he asked as they pulled onto the I-94. “My parents and I found this awesome diner just outside of town.” She plugged in her iPod to his stereo and nodded.

“That sounds great.”

They pulled up to a diner that looked like something out of an old fifties movie. She looked at him, not trusting his judgment.

“It’s really good; I promise.” He reached and squeezed her hand. She looked back at him, suddenly anxious about his touch, about him. When he saw she wasn’t moving, he got out of the SUV and came around to her side. He opened the door and helped her down. They went inside and were seated immediately in a corner booth. The waitress gave them menus and took their drink orders. Conversation was light, and Nyla was again reminded of how fond she was becoming of Jamison. She didn’t feel as though she had to be anyone besides herself. In high school, she’d always felt as if she had something to prove to him, but now it was different; he was different. After they ate, Jamison stretched and then patted his belly.

“What did I tell you?” He smiled his most charming smile. It wasn’t lost on her.

“That was really good; we’ll have to stop here next time,” she said before she thought about what it meant. He continued to smile at her, appreciating her sentiment.

“I would like that.” He glanced down at the check the waitress placed between them. She saw it too and reached for it, but she wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed it and slid across the seat. He crossed the diner to the counter and handed the waitress the bill with his card in a matter of seconds. He said something to her, winked at Nyla, and went to the bathroom. Nyla rolled her eyes and leaned back, letting her food digest. She wondered how long his charade would last and found herself already regretting the time when this new Jamison would fade into the old one.

“How long have you two been together?” The waitress asked as she returned with the receipts.

“Oh, we’re not together; we’re just friends.” She paused on that last part. They really were friends, weren’t they? She decided she would determine that when they got home and she saw how he treated her then.

“Well, you two should think about it. You make a handsome couple,” the waitress replied as Jamison sat back down. Hearing only the tail end of the conversation, he smirked. They were night and day. He shook his head to the waitress as he signed the receipt.

“I couldn’t be in a relationship with
her
.” He laughed brashly.

“What’s wrong with
her
?” Nyla recoiled, offended. He didn’t mean to upset her, but he had.

“You know, you’re PB&J and I’m a ham sandwich.” She crossed her arms, not letting him off the hook.

“I’m soft, mushy, and too sweet while you’re all meaty and salty?” Her eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t help the vicious grin that crept across his face, and her face turned bright red. The waitress took the check and backed away from the table.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying; we’re just different. We’ve never gotten along; you know that,” he chuckled nervously, hoping to regain some ground with her.

“We got along in junior high,” she sighed as she reached for her purse and stood to leave.

“Barely,” he shrugged. “Why is that?” She surveyed him as if she were contemplating the question for the first time. He continued, “I mean our sisters are inseparable, but we were—” He paused, unable to think of a good analogy.

“Oil and water,” she finished his statement.

“Yeah.” He opened the door, and she walked outside to the brisk fall day. He noticed the way the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail danced around her face, causing her to look suddenly young, really young, innocent, and fragile. He just wanted to protect her and keep her safe. He fought the urge to grab her hand and reassure her that she wasn’t that naive girl anymore, and that he wasn’t that popular guy who made people work for his attention. They were both different people now. But he didn’t say anything; he only followed her to his SUV and silently climbed in before pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the interstate.

They traveled the first hour of their drive in solitude. Nyla DJ’ed while Jamison just concentrated on the road; she put on a John Mayer song.