Ch 15 - The Lingering Aftermath

A twist of discomfort squeezed at the pit of my stomach as my eyes locked onto Jamie's, and sent an unwelcome flood of emotions surging through me.

Why? I pondered as I slowly took in his appearance.

If he wanted to plunge the knife any further into my heart, he had certainly chosen the right outfit.

His hair was tied back in a neat ponytail to complement his neatly fitted shirt, tie and school blazer, revealing his true age as clearly as daylight.

"Why did you bring him here?" I snapped as I jumped up from my seat, laptop in hand.

I'd faltered a little between pain and anger over the weeks, and right then, with the truth in front of me, anger was winning.

"I'm sorry," Jay said, sounding almost as exasperated as I felt. "He just keeps bugging me, but he promised that if you let him explain, he'll leave you alone."

"Go home, Jamie," I shouted back when I reached the bookshelf at the far side of the room, and there wasn't anywhere else I could run to. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Veronica," Jamie's voice came out quieter than usual. "Just five minutes, please."

"I don't have anything to talk to you about," I said, keeping my attention on the bookcase.

"I just want to explain …"

"You're a liar," I cut him off and turned to glare at him. "That about explains it, right? Thanks for your time. You can leave now."

"I …" he said and took a few tentative steps closer to where I stood. "I'm not a liar. I only ever lied to you about my age."

"Really, Leon?"

"My name's Leon Jamie Banks," he said plainly. "My mom always calls me Jamie because it doesn't have the whole acting/modelling history attached to it."

"So you gave me the name your mom calls you? How nice!"

"It wasn't like that. Let me explain. Just five minutes … please."

No, not the please, I thought, immediately connecting the feeling it gave me to the same feeling Jay gave me whenever he wanted something. No wonder I could never say no to him, I scolded myself, receiving a figurative slap to the face at my realisation.

"Five minutes, Leon," I muttered, deliberately using his first name.

Jamie sighed and gave a small shake of his head, but continued nonetheless.

"Firstly, I didn't mean to hurt you, that's not why I lied. I wasn't trying to trick you or anything like that. I just wanted to talk to you. I swear," he paused and watched me closely to confirm if I was listening, which I was despite not wholeheartedly wanting to hear his explanation.

"You know my mom sometimes has those attacks," he continued. "And sometimes it gets a bit much, and I just sometimes want to hang out and forget about it." He stopped again and gave a small gesture to Jay who was silently watching. "Jay and the guys are great, but sometimes I don't feel like I get the whole sixteen-year-old vibe."

My head dropped into a tilt as I watched him and wondered exactly where he was going with all of this.

"When I saw you that day, and you didn't do all that giggly, flirty stuff that girls usually do and … I don't know why ... but I just wanted to sit and talk to you. That's all. I wanted someone to talk to. I just wanted a friend," he said, his voice giving an exasperated sigh with his last sentence.

Physically, my whole stance softened as I watched Jamie and the last embers of the anger that had fuelled me only moments earlier fade to nothing.

He was telling the truth, I knew that much. Despite the confident showman persona that Jamie usually held, I'd seen this vulnerable, unsure side of him before, and now it was completely unveiled and standing before me. I wanted to do nothing more than just hold him, though not for the reasons I had wanted to hold him previously.

"It's ok. You don't need to …"

"Wait," he said, cutting me off. "Just let me finish, please."

I nodded while briskly rubbing my fingers over my eyebrows; anything to take my focus off his face. I didn't know how much more of Jamie in pain I could take.

"If you hadn't asked me my age as soon as I came to speak to you, I swear, I never would have lied, but you caught me off guard, and I didn't know what else to say. Not saying it was your fault," he added the last sentence quickly. "And then, for a while, I didn't see the need to tell the truth, and by the time I realised I was starting to like you a lot more than I had intended, it was too late. I was scared. I didn't want …" He raised his arm in an exasperated gesture towards me. "This. I didn't want you to hate me."

I couldn't move as I fought every instinct in my body not to rush over and pull him into the tightest embrace, but I did manage to get out four simple words. "I don't hate you."

Seconds, that felt like minutes passed as Jamie stared into my eyes as if trying to read the hidden script of my soul, before a weak smile hinted at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you," he said.

God, Jamie, I wanted to say to him. It isn't as easy as all that. What just happened? Doesn't change anything?

But I couldn't get any of it out, so I simply nodded, released the breath I'd been holding and then, breaking from his gaze, turned and reached for my laptop.

"So, you should go now," I said, trying to sound a lot more uninvested than I was feeling.

"Um, sure, but … we're friends, right?"

This is the part I was dreading. I could see the hope building in his eyes.

"We can't be friends, Leon."

"Please," he said, reaching out and taking my hand in his. "I'm seventeen, there's nothing that says we can't at least be friends."

There might be just one thing, I thought before trying a gentle plea.

"I can't …"

"Please," he said, taking yet another step closer.

"I don't want to be your friend," I blurted out, though it wasn't the whole truth. "I don't want to be just your friend," I corrected, unable to stand the pained expression that he held. "But that means we can't be friends at all," I said before pulling my hand away and walking quickly from the room. "I'm sorry, Jamie," I muttered as I left before adding an instruction to Jay to ask him to leave.

I ran up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door shut behind me and throwing myself down onto my bed where I pushed my face into my pillow.

I hadn't wanted to scream into my pillow since I was a teenager, but right then, that was exactly what I needed, and what I did until the sounds of their voices in the downstairs corridor ended with the closing of my door.

All screamed out, I lay there, both emotionally and physically drained to empty.

"V?" Jay's voice came from behind my bedroom door.

I didn't have to energy to answer, so after a few soft knocks the door opened, and Jay entered and settled himself on the edge of my bed.

"I'm sorry. I thought it would help," he said.

I wished it had. I wished he'd shown me how selfish he'd been by lying. I wished he'd fuelled my anger so I could really hate him. But he'd done exactly the opposite, and every minute piece of stability that I'd managed to preserve over the last few weeks had fizzled to almost nothing.

Now, rather than being locked in a 'look how he did me dirty' phase, I was locked in an 'if only' phase, and whereas anger eventually dies, wishes never do.