Killing Me Softly

Four

The next day in AP English Lit, Grayson is already in his seat. I take a deep breath before heading to mine. I was hoping he would talk to me or even just acknowledge my presence, but I feared I was asking too much.

Mrs. Alvarez didn’t waste any time, the second after the final bell rang, she started passing out a worksheet. “I hope you all read the assigned chapter last night. You and your neighbors can help each other out this one time,” she says.

I glance down at the assignment. I knew all of the answers to the questions, except for one. I look up at Grayson to find that he's already finished and staring straight ahead, waiting. I contemplate asking him for help.

I clear my throat then turn towards him. “Did you get the answer to number four?” I ask, cheerfully.

Grayson gives me a blank stare. He then looks down at his paper. “Mont Blanc,” he deadpans.

“Thanks.” I act like his tone doesn't bother me. I had hoped he would say something more but then he went back to staring at the front of the classroom. His silence killing me. I couldn’t take it. I had to say something.

“Can we just be civil please? We don’t have to be best friends, but I would like for us to be able to talk to each other without this weirdness.” Grayson glances at me from the corner of his eye. I continued on, “Look, we have to sit next to each other for the entire year. The least we could do is small talk, right?”

Grayson sighs but actually turns his attention to me. “You’re right.”

I was shocked I didn’t actually expect him to agree with me so quickly. I thought I was going to have to do some persuading.

“How’s your neck?” he asks.

I tug on the scarf I'm wearing. People were giving me weird looks all day because it was eighty degrees outside, and I was the only one crazy enough to be wearing a wool scarf. But it was the only thing I had to conceal the bruises.

“Fine,” I reply automatically. “The bruises are starting to fade.”

He doesn’t believe me. “Already?” 

I nod and stay silent.

“You should report what happened to the police,” he says.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. I’m still here and that’s all that matters.”

“I’ll go with you if it helps.”

“I appreciate the offer, but no.”

Grayson stares, a firm look on his face. When I don’t give in, he relents. “You’re very stubborn,” is all he says.

The rest of AP Lit goes surprisingly fast. Grayson and I don’t talk for the rest of the period. As soon as the bell rings, he shoots up from his seat and leaves in a hurry. I'm still packing up my things by the time he's out the door.

Lunch is a little quieter than usual. Nicole and Ivy especially which is odd and very unlike them. Sydney was filling the silence by talking about her art project, asking us for ideas. She had to do a series of paintings around a central theme and it was due at the end of the school year.

“Naked beauty,” Nicole suggests.

“Why does everything with you have to involve being naked?” Jordan asks.

“Why not? We were born naked. What’s wrong with it?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. You just bring it up all the time.”

Nicole throws a carrot at him. “I like being naked,” she adds.

Jordan makes a face at her comment. Everyone else just rolls their eyes, expecting nothing less of the two. They argued over everything. And I mean everything.  

“Although that is a good idea, Nicole. I don’t think I can use that for my project. I doubt Ms. Love would accept it,” Sydney says, breaking the tension.

“I think Ms. Love would enjoy it. She’s a hippie herself,” Ivy points out.

Ms. Love is a very free spirit person and I had no doubt in my mind that she would like the idea of someone’s art project focusing on the concept of naked beauty, but this was a high school. A big N-O.

Sydney snaps her fingers. “I got it! I’ll call my project Raw Beauty and it’ll be about the influences of social media on beauty. It’ll be different interpretations of people’s ideas of what beauty is and how society defines beauty.” Sydney opens her small sketchbook that she carries with her everywhere and jots down some ideas.

Nicole stands up and takes a bow. “I’m glad to be of assistance.”

Almost everyone laughs at Nicole except for Jordan – no surprise there. Instead, he rolls his eyes at her and she flips him off in response.

In that moment, I just so happen to look up to see Grayson and Jensen sitting at a lunch table towards the end of the courtyard. Jensen's talking while Grayson listens intently. Then, he just so happens to look up at that moment.

My heart pounds when his blue eyes meet mine. I didn’t want to look away but felt I should. There was more to Grayson and I longed to know. I had lied earlier. I wanted to be his friend, I wanted to know everything about him, I wanted to get close to him, but just didn’t know how. I needed to figure out how.

“Hottie McHottie is staring at you,” Nicole says, pulling me out of my reverie.

I pull my gaze away from him. “Excuse me?”

“He’s staring at you,” Nicole repeats, seeming more interested in her sandwich than this conversation.

“I don’t think he’s staring at me,” I reply.

“I think he is,” Ivy adds.

Jordan and Sydney turn around to look over at them. “Stop looking,” I hiss at them.

“Do you know him?” Sydney asks, ignoring me.

“No.”

“He’s looking over here like he knows you.”

“I think we have a class together,” I say.

“And you were going to keep that a secret from us?” Nicole asks, pretending to be hurt.

“I don’t see how it’s important.”

“You can get me his number!”

“I’m not getting you his number. You can do that on your own.”

Nicole scoffs. “We are no longer friends.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re too dramatic.”

Nicole just laughs. 

The good thing about Nicole was you could say anything to her, and she wouldn’t take it personal. She didn’t take anything too serious, but she could be serious when she needed to be - she just didn't need to be that often.

Jordan nudges me with his shoulder. “Do you think you can help me with my Spanish homework after school today?”

“My Spanish is rusty but sure.”

 “Just meet me at my car. I’ll drop you off at home.”

“Sounds good.”

In art class, I take the same seat from yesterday – in the back, away from everyone else. I rest my head on the table, wishing the day would end already when I hear the sound of a backpack hitting the floor. Lazily, I sit up to find Jensen pulling a pencil out from his backpack.  

He looks over and smiles at me. “I figured since we kinda know each other, we might as well sit next to one another.”

I come to the conclusion that Jensen is much friendlier than Grayson. “Makes sense,” I agree.

“It seems we haven’t officially met.” He sticks out his hand. “Jensen.”

I shake it. “Juliet.”

“How do you know my brother?” he asks without hesitation.

If I was drinking something right now, I would’ve spit it out. “What?” I ask, feigning confusion.

“Grayson - my brother.”

My mouth almost drops. Brothers? They were brothers? They didn’t look anything alike. They were complete opposites. Night and day. Grayson was cold and closed off while Jensen was friendly and open.

“We don’t really know each other,” I decide to say.

“He said you guys met recently.”

“Um, yeah. He helped me out with something.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised he helped you with anything at all.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s not the friendliest person around.”

“I have.” I can’t help but ask, “Is he always like that?”

Jensen doesn’t get the chance to answer, the bell rings and class starts. Ms. Love decides to have us watch a documentary on the first artist we would be studying. During the film, I thought about asking Jensen more about Grayson, but then thought better of it. I didn’t want him thinking I was some crazy girl obsessed with his brother.

I was walking to my last class of the day when I notice Grayson in the hall, walking towards me. I was about to say hello when I then notice the girl standing next to him. They’re laughing about something. As we pass, I act like I don’t see them. 

He doesn't notice.

As promised, I met Jordan at his car after school. He sent me a text earlier that he was running late and would be on his way soon. As I’m waiting, I hear two deep, distinctive voices coming my way. I look up, Grayson and Jensen just a few cars away. I keep my head down and scroll through my phone, hoping they won’t notice me.

“Juliet!” Jensen shouts.

In my head, I groan. I look up from my phone to face the Mitchell brothers. I smile at Jensen, not even bothering to look at Grayson.

“Need a ride?” he offers.

I shake my head. I’m about to tell him that I’m waiting for a friend when Jordan runs up to the car. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes.

“No worries. Ready?”

Jordan unlocks the car and gets into the driver seat, as I wave goodbye to Jensen.

“So, you do know them,” he says.

“Not really.”

He raises a thick, dark brow. “They seemed to know you pretty well to offer you a ride home.”

I glare at Jordan. “I have a class with them. That’s all.”

Jordan purses his lips. “With both of them?”

“Yes.”

“Hmph.”

Jordan was my other best friend and I loved him to death, but he could be really annoying. And a pain in the ass like right now.

“Don’t tell the girls. I don’t want them to start asking me to get the boys’ numbers or something.”

“I’m sure they’ll give that to you freely,” Jordan mumbles. I ignore his remark.

The drive to his house isn’t that far from school. About fifteen minutes to be exact but they were a long, excruciating fifteen minutes. I tried to have a conversation with Jordan, but he kept giving me short, simple answers. It reminded me of someone, and I didn’t like it. I decide to just be quiet for the rest of the ride to avoid thinking about a certain pair of blue eyes.

As soon as we step into Jordan’s house, his dog comes running up to us. I scratch his belly and behind his ears – his favorite spots of all time.

“Frankie, sit,” Jordan commands the French bulldog. Frankie sits. “My room?” Jordan asks me.

I nod and follow him to his room. We sit down on his bed and he pulls out his homework.

“We have to translate this poem,” he explains.

I look at the poem and vaguely remember having to do this assignment last year. Jordan and I work on the translation for about an hour. We had gotten almost all of it translated except for the last line which we just looked up online and got the answer. I glance at clock hanging above his desk. It was almost five.

“Need to go?”

“Yeah, I’m at my dad’s this week so we should probably get going.” Jordan simply nods, getting up from the bed.

The drive to my house wasn’t that much different from the drive going to Jordan’s. Awkward and silent. He didn’t say much, and I thought it better to just not say anything at all. It’s not until he’s dropping me off at home when he finally talks.  

“Be careful with those two. I have a bad feeling about them.”

What could I say to that other than okay?