Unexpected Rendezvous

Chapter 13

Jade's POV

Leigh takes us to some weird as fuck doughnut place where nothing is regular flavoured. When we walk inside, we're immediately hit with a giant display of doughnut pictures, and they all look like they were put together by a toddler on a sugar high. I don't like doughnuts as a rule, and I like them even less when they're covered with cereal, meat products, or in one case, a whole pepper. I'm staring at the pepper doughnut in fascinated horror when Leigh passes me on her way to the counter.

"I wouldn't start with that one," she advises, getting in line behind an older man. Leigh's mood shot up when we got here, so even though it's past lunchtime and I'd kill for real food, I guess we're eating doughnuts.

I scan the menu like it's the most interesting thing I've ever seen, because it's still too awkward to look at Leigh. She and Perrie are making small talk about the menu, but all I can think is What the hell happened back there?

Leigh is the last person I ever thought would get involved with a teacher, much less that teacher. I'll say one thing for Mr Gray, he looked genuinely shocked when all the Nelson stuff came out. But apparently he's a good enough actor to fool the school and his fiancé, so who knows what he was really thinking.

While I watched them at the café, it hit me for the first time how lonely Leigh must be. She doesn't have a brother or cousin at home like Perrie and me, and she hasn't mentioned any friends all day. I'm starting to think she's turned into the kind of girl who'd do whatever someone says and not ask questions, just so she could feel like she's part of something. 

And I think Mr Gray knows that.

"What are you ordering?" Perrie asks, gazing around us. The whole place has a cartoony vibe; the tables are orange, the floors are multicoloured tile, and a giant chandelier sprouting from the ceiling is hung with a dozen plastic doughnuts. The mirrored wall beside us has a funhouse effect that makes my head look like it's split in two, which is almost exactly how it feels. "I'm thinking about the blueberry cake doughnut," she continues. "It might have nutritional value, and there's nothing weird on top."

"I don't know," I say, my eyes straying out the window. There's too much visual stimulation everywhere else. Including Perrie.

I'm almost as rattled by our conversation on the train as I was about Leigh and Mr Gray. It's like I have to rearrange my whole perception of Perrie to fit what actually happened when we were younger, instead of what I believed. I meant what I said on the train; it's not like I spend time thinking about that kiss. Not anymore. But Perrie was the first girl I'd ever asked out, and it stung that she ignored me. If I'm being honest, the memory of that made me more impatient with her earlier than I would've been otherwise, and it's probably why, as Zoe likes to remind me, I bail at the first sign of rejection. Not just from people I'm interested in, but anyone or anything. I've been like that for so long that I never really thought about how or why it started. 

And now I know: it started with a misunderstanding. I don't know what to do with that.

Shove it down, Zoe's voice says in my head. She and I have a running joke about my Dad; how any time something happens that he doesn't know how to handle, he just...doesn't. He shoves it so far down in his mental space that it might as well not exist. Which is one of the many reasons he's never seemed like much of an adult. It didn't occur to him, for example, that he should give Zoe a home when his brother died, or take a break from living his rock star dreams once Ma got sick.

As jokes go, it's not actually funny, but it's still solid advice for now. "I'll probably get the same thing you are," I tell Perrie.

"My treat," Leigh says. Guess we're forgiven. "If you want, we could-"