j a i m e e

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"Taylor's not talking to me."

"What'd you do?"

"He sneezed and I accidentally said 'shut the fuck up' instead of 'bless you'."

My eyes narrow, speechless for a moment. "Libb, how do you accidentally say 'shut the fuck up'?"

"How the fuck should I know?" She shrugs, a pout on her lips as she collapses onto my shoulder. "You're still coming tonight, right?"

Now it was my turn to complain. "Do I have to?"

"You promised!" Libbie shouts in retaliation, "We had a bet and I won, so you said you'd come. Jai, you haven't been to a party since before you went to college and that's the entire point of going to college."

"Well my point of college was to get my degree but whatever, that doesn't matter." I roll my eyes, storming into my bedroom to put on a nicer hoodie. It takes me a minute or so but Libbie groans the moment I step back in the living room.

"We're going to a party, Jai. Are you seriously going to wear a hoodie and jeans?"

"Have you even met me?" I snark back, grabbing my keys, my bag and a bottle of water. "You're lucky I'm even coming and no I'm not getting changed."

"You'll never find yourself a husband wearing things like that!"

"Good!" I exclaim back as my best friend practically has a meltdown on the sidewalk. "I don't need a husband! I'm a strong and independent biracial woman who doesn't need any man to determine my worth."

"Does your inner Feminist have an off-switch?" Libbie huffs. Her short, white dress partnered with her signature converse appear to be a bad choice as she shivers while we wait for Taylor to pick us up.

Narrowing my eyes at her statement, I kiss my teeth. "Are you trying to oppress me, Campbell?"

"I hate you." She mutters as Taylor's black car pulls up.

"Hate you more, bitch." I laugh, jumping into the passenger seat before she has a chance. "Hey, Tay."

"Princess." He nods to me, moving his eyes to the rear-view mirror so he can see Libbie. "Shrek."

"I hope you die."

Taylor just laughs, pulling into a street that was already covered in red plastic cups and cigarette butts. "Did she tell you about how rude she is?"

Despite the unease settling within my stomach, I planted a fake smile onto my face and let out a few chuckles. "If it's any consolation, I would've remembered to say bless you."

"She's a bitch."

"I can hear you, assbutt." Libbie snaps, climbing out of the car before Taylor can retaliate. "It's not my fault that you're so goddamn infuriating."

By that, I think she means she wants to bone him but I don't say anything.

"C'mon, Campbell. Let's get drunk." He grabs her hand and tugs her into the house, leaving me standing on the path outside.

Anxiety tugs at my heartstrings as I contemplate just walking away, pretending that I'd vomited or something. Anything but having to face the exact environment that I was in when that happened.

But despite the fear, I entered the house and headed straight to the place where I saw the least amount of people. I spot Libbie on the patio outside with her tongue already down someone's throat and I'm pretty sure Taylor will be in the same position.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

I felt my back straighten at the deep voice sounding behind me, watching from the corner of my eye as Shayden appeared next to me. My gaze remained on him, taking in his simple outfit of a black tank with a leather jacket on top, my thought instantly consisting of how damn good he looked. I watched as he reached for the stack of cups before grabbing his usual tequila. My eyes went to the tattoos on his hands, the silver and black bracelets on his right wrist and the thick silver rings on his fingers. My stomach tightened on instinct. Looking at him made me feel so insecure as I stand in my Nirvana hoodie with skinny ripped jeans.

It didn't matter to me what anyone else thought or saw when they looked at me. I came to this house party knowing that but, for some reason, I still cared about what Shayden thought.

When my thoughts finally become rational, I reply back to his statement. "I could say the same to you."

He shrugs, a lazy smile on his face. "Not really my scene but a friend dragged me."

"Taylor?"

"Nah-"

He's cut up as another boy with dark hair walks up to us. The swagger in his step makes me dislike him instantly, despite his soft features and playful eyes.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Jaimee," Shayden points to the boy now standing beside him, "This is my best mate, Tory."

"Hey." I nod at him in acknowledgement, my lips tugging up as more of a friendly gesture than a nice one.

The boy reaches out and takes my hand, raising my knuckles to his lips and kissing them. "It's nice to meet you, Jaimee. I've heard a lot about you."

I send him a tight smile but can't stop the tension from seeping out of me. Subtly, I take a step back.

Shayden notices though, I see his eyebrows furrow before he quickly catches himself and continues. "I go to MIT with T, and we worked in Canada for a few months at Camp."

My ears perk up at this, having heard tales of how fun Camp was from the school I work at. "Oh? How was it? My kids always say it's amazing."

"Your kids?" Tory cuts in, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Damn, mamita."

"I work at an elementary school." I deadpan, narrowing my eyes at his tone. Mamita? Is he for real?

Looking between his friend and I, Shayden slowly realizes that I don't seem to like his company.

He gestures his head towards Tory, "Give us a sec, T."

As soon as his friend leaves, Shayden hands me a red cup, presumably filled with something vile.

Shaking my head, I pull a bottle of water out of my bag instead. "I'm alright, thank you though."

His forehead furrowed in confusion, which I expected. "You don't drink?"

Focusing on his face so my mind doesn't go elsewhere, I shake my head. "Not anymore."

I can tell he's surprised by the way his eyes narrow slightly, his gaze dropping towards the floor as he starts overthinking like he always did.

My grip on my bottle tightened slightly, my emotions laying heavily on my chest and my mouth dry. The music playing around us did little to drown out the sound of my erratically beating heart as it pounded in my ears, mind swirling with memories of me and Shayden. Dizzying kisses and tentative smiles. Wordless conversations full of electrifying intimacy that always left me with sparks igniting my skin. But that reminder came with that of nights of sobbing silently with questioned self worth, anxiety ridden panic attacks that Shayden soothed and stopped.

"Did Tory make you feel uncomfortable?" He continues before I have the chance to speak, "'Cause we can go somewhere else. Or not. It's up to you. I know he can be a bit much but he's good."

"He's fine." I swallow the lump in my throat, drinking my water to avoid his quizzing look.

I knew exactly what was going through his head. That I was never shy before, uncomfortable around strangers. In High School, I wasn't outgoing but I was confident. Loud. No one and nothing intimidated me, no force could go against me.

Up until this moment, I hadn't realized just how much that night had changed me as a person. Strangers make me uncomfortable, the presence of unfamiliar men petrifies me. I can't risk Shayden figuring that out though, he'd just come back into my life. I need to sort my shit out.

Shayden eyes me knowingly, as if he knows my words are complete bullshit. He gestures his head to the door, walking off. Instinctively, I follow him.

The warmth of the summer night hits me instantly, I bake in the humid air. Expecting him to stop on the porch, my eyebrows raise when Shayden just continues walking.

"Where are you going?" I shout to him, looking back at the house full of drunk people behind me.

Shayden doesn't turn to look at me as he says back, "Just trust me."

Fuck it.

Quickly walking to catch up to him, we continue walking in silence until we reach an apartment block. I hesitated before following him through the doors, realising that he was my only chance at finding Taylor and Libbie again as I was massively unfamiliar with this side of Cambridge.

The moment we get into his apartment, he heads to the liquor cabinet that I'm not even surprised exists. He always said it was one of his plans for when he turned 21.

A bottle of tequila and orange is being poured into a glass when he finally acknowledges my presence, "You want anythin', love?"

I just shake my head. But for the first time in a while, the smell of alcohol doesn't knock me sick. Shayden's been drinking tequila since he was 16 and bought his first fake ID, it was his drink.

And, as strange as it sounds, the familiar reminder calms me a little.

Leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes study me. "You always knew how to make a hoodie look hot as fuck."

Failing to prevent a chuckle escaping me, I just try to shake my head at his words. "Not really party attire, huh."

"It works." He shrugs, the awkward tension too prominent to ignore. "Everythin' you've ever worn works on you, Mendoza. Why do you think I was always fighting the boys away from you?"

His question seems so innocent and careless, almost like a compliment. But I don't take it as one as my mind flicks to the one boy who got across his barrier.

I take my hoodie off, leaving me just in my tank top and jeans. It shouldn't be this awkward with someone I've known my entire life.

Shayden's eyes immediately drop to my boobs before I have a chance to cross my arms over my chest, but before I have the chance to react his eyes move up to meet mine. He bites his lip, black eyes somehow darkening as our stare's don't falter from one another.

He brings back so many memories; things I've hid from, things I loved about my life, who I was. It's weird, seeing him after so long as not being able to act like we normally did. Shayden reminded me of happiness, and love, and feeling so adored that self insecurities practically had no space in our home because he never failed to tell me how much he loved me and how beautiful I was every single day.

Regret consumes me, my stomach twisting painfully into knots. Internally, I thank myself for not drinking because if I had been, I'd probably be on the ground crying. Spilling secrets that I'd rather have buried with me.

I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake. I broke up with him so he could have a better life, not so I could worm my way back in four years later and fuck his shit up again. I can't let him find out, I'd rather go through the entire ordeal again than have him think so terribly of me.

Shay was warm kisses, and summer fires. Rose petals and teasing jokes, laughter and sunlight.

I'm not like that anyone. If Shayden was a gentle summer fire, then I was the hurricane that threatened to put out his spark. I wouldn't allow myself to do that again.

"I need to go."

"Wait." The command comes out so softly, I almost forget my entire reason for wanting to leave. But I listen, averting my gaze nonetheless. "Why are you leavin'?"

"I shouldn't have come, I'm sorry." The words rush out of me, sounding breathless. "It's too much to think we can just be friends. We proved that at the Coffee Shop."

"Do you not think we can?"

"We went through too much to act normal with each other." He was my first love; my first kiss, my first date, my first fuck. We went through years of ups and downs and we never argued, we never questioned our love for one another because we genuinely thought no matter what came our way, we'd survive it.

Until I was raped.

I can't act like just friends with someone who I'm in love with. Saying you're over someone until you see them again is cheap. I never was over him. But I needed to let him go to protect him.

Leaving his glass on the counter, he walks towards me. His black skin shines as the moonlight glimmer escapes the windows hold, shimming through the room and decorating our skin with the most beautiful twinkle. Tattoos peep out of his tank top, the leather jacket doing nothing to hide the broadness of his shoulders or the way his entire body was molded into that of a God.

In all my dreams of before, he's just a scrawny 14 year old kid. Causing havoc and thriving off winding people up. Now, he's grown into a man. His style of clothing is so different to that of the punk clothes he used to wear. How he never wore any other colour but black for a solid 3 years.

Before I can even stop him, his lips are on my neck, hands on my waist. Skimming the sensitive flesh there, I inhale. Freezing.

He brings his face closer to mine, rubbing his nose along my neck as I bite my lip. A part of my brain tries to rationalize with myself, begging to verbalize my reserve and tell him to stop touching me. But, on the other hand, a small and minuscule part of myself couldn't say these words out loud. Because saying I didn't want him touching me would be a lie.

"You shouldn't play games with me, love." Shayden breath out. I shiver as I feel his wet tongue carefully flick my blazing skin. "Comin' into my home then wanting to leave."

"Why not?" I almost whimper, my entire body shaking in anticipation. The effect he has on me is endless; a torturous sensation that burned in all the wrong places. I forgot I could feel like this.

"'Cause it won't end well for you." He whispers in my ear. His hands find my lower back, using his hold to pull me even closer towards him. My hands unconsciously flatten on his chest as one of his hands reach down and touch my ass. "You'll end up on your back with my head between your legs. Is that what you want?"

I gasp, my breathing turning ragged as I feel his finger begin to trace my pussy through my jeans. Without hesitating, I wrap my fingers around his wrist and pull his hand away from my most intimate area, despite the fact I was throbbing with need for him.

Him.

It always comes back to Shay.

I can see the outline of his hardened member through his tight jeans, my throat closing up as our eyes met. Even after all this time of knowing each other, he still ignites this desire in me that never seemed to burn out.

I'm struggling to get oxygen into my lungs, my lips must be so swollen from the grip of my teeth on them.

"Can it even be possible," Shayden swallows visibly, his gruff voice quiet. "That you can't feel this too?" His warm hands are travelling up my arms now, his touch so light and gentle as if I'd break if he touched me with any source of strength.

Suddenly, he turns back around and grabs his drink, downing it all in one go. The smirks back on his face as he turns around and sees me standing there in the same place he left me, eyes wide. He points towards the door with his empty glass. "Don't slam the door on your way out. I'll see you soon, Mendoza."

He knew exactly what he was doing. Teasing me, touching me.

Fuck you, Nkosi.