Where To?

Chapter 12

I came back to England a week and a half later, chronicling "the fun parts" of my Slovenia trip to the group when Jaxson really went ahead and arranged a get-together before spring break ended.

"I still don't get how Jilly here can afford to travel like that." Liv chimed in, "I mean, I hardly make enough money to get through the week not starving!"

"Honey, you don't look like you're starving at all." Cohen answered, pinching the fat on Liv's arm. We laughed Liv's remark away, and assumed I made the most of my stay there.

"He went to a shit ton of museums and put pictures of them up the bloggie." Vern snorted, through a tall glass of beer. Seriously, have we never seen this woman drunk? It's only lunchtime and she's already having a beer.

"Correction, I went to a shit ton of museums and took photos of this one," I jammed my thumb to Clair's direction, "and then she put them up her bloggie." Clair sipped on her passion fruit juice and wiggled her eyebrows, a smirk playing about her face.

They still took me for a nerd, but I guess I'm a productive nerd now that Clair told them I'm shifting. Jaxson said that's extra years in school, with a more challenging field to tackle, but it's not like I didn't know that, so I shrugged at him. "You barely see us because of your traveling, now you're going to busy yourself with more school?"

"Petition to kidnap Jillian!" Cohen suggested.

"Let's do it, where are we dumping him?" Vern said, leaning onto the table with her elbows.

"He can pretend to be my boyfriend?" Cohen said slowly, "I don't know why there's this bitch trying to tell me I can't find love because I'm gay. I'm okay being single, honestly. I just want to piss her off."

"Okay, we love you, Cohen? But, no. You're not kidnapping Jillian to be your pretend boyfriend." Clair raised a hand, getting a point across.

"Why, is he your boyfriend now, Clair?" Cohen answered coolly.

Everyone had a funny look on their faces, ranging from mhm to hmmm? To which Clair and I laughed at. I figured it seemed like we were concealing the fact that we could be in a relationship, but really, Clair cracked up at Cohen's sassy expression and shared a laugh with me.

"Are you my boyfriend, Jillian?" she asked me at one point, on our way to her place. She was holding my hand again.

"What exactly is your definition of boyfriend?" I asked her, trying to challenge her wits. She hummed as she thought of a reply, and then came up with

"A guy who will take my pictures, aaand call me pretty even when I haven't brushed my hair in almost a week, aaand drink wine with me and help me cook steak, and go café hopping with me in search of the perfect Americano."

"That's what a boyfriend is to you? You want me to be that?" I laughed at her answer. She was laughing too.

"I mean," Clair caught her breath and paused laughing to explain herself, gesticulating with her free hand circling, "A guy who's natural with me, you know? Like, you can say your boyfriend is your best friend too."

"Okay, I get it."

We stopped in front of her mother's primroses, both my hands stuffed in my pockets once again. She looked at me, waiting for an answer to her previous inquiry.

"Do I have to be your boyfriend, Clair?"

"Why do you keep answering my very serious questions with questions of your own?" Clair dropped her hands to her sides.

"You just did the same thing." I nudged her with my elbow. She put on a pout. "I'm just saying, if it feels right, you don't have to question it. It doesn't matter if I'm your boyfriend or not, it doesn't matter if we're in Paris or not. This feels right, Clair."