If I Should Be Quite Honest

11

At school the next day, Hayden frowns at me, "You look tired."
"I'm not," I say. I do not think I am lying, but he holds up his phone camera and I look at myself. I see the faint outline of bags under my eyes. "I'm not tired."
I slept like four hours last night. That was good enough.
"You look," he put his phone back in his pocket, "like shit."
"Did you break up with Jessica?"
He looks mad, so I look away, knowing when to stop.
But he says, "Not exactly."
"Then?"
"She broke up with me."
"Are you ok?"
"No," he says. At least he's honest.
"I wanted to do the breaking up."
"So..."
"She got there first."
"What did she say?"
"That she couldn't trust me anymore."
I frown, "Why?"
He shrugs, but there's always more. "I haven't been-." he pulls me aside in the hall, and he nods down at his trousers, "You know."
I guess I look a little clueless, because he sighs, "When we have sex, I can't..."
"Oh." I get it. "It happens."
"She thought it's because I didn't love her anymore and when I told her that was ridiculous, she went off at me, called me a liar and slagged off my mum." I wince. Hayden wasn't any closer to his mother than any other person, but it was still uncalled for.
"Have you been seeing someone else?"
"No!" he claimed, "Honestly, I just don't feel the same way about her anymore. We've been together for ages."
A year and a half.
Honestly.
"Did you explain that to her?"
"She wouldn't listen, you know what a bitch she can be."
I knew. We had gone to a party once and Hayden decided it was time we meet her. It was the after-prom party at Jake's house and she came in a pale pink sequinned crop top and matching skirt, tight as a condom and these strappy heels. She was alright looking in a bitch, I know I won't like you, way, and she had the longest sandy-blond hair I ever saw. When I looked closely, I could then see her faint black roots.
Hayden was all like, "Jess, these are my friends."
And she was like: white woman curtesy smile, and "Hayden, I want a drink." Which was code for: Get me a drink, slave.
She didn't talk to us, but talked through Hayden and eventually, we just stopped trying and Carla whispered in my ear that she wanted to get scissors and shear all that hair off.
After that, if we ever went out together, Hayden would bring her and I'd conclude that the day was instantly ruined. But Carla didn't stop hanging out with Hayden even though he was dating an utter bitch.
She didn't trust Taron, but she sure as hell didn't trust Jessica.
"Well, you still have me."
"Yeah," he shrugged, "I know," he slung an arm around my shoulder, "But-."
"Do you miss her?"
He thinks. "Not really."
"Then this should be the last time you mention her right?"
He waits, then nods, "Right," he agrees, "You're right."

Taron nudges me in maths, after half an hour. He jogs me and my pen, unintentionally, draws a line through my paper.
I frown at my work, annoyed. He nudged me again, "Stop," I say.
"What were you saying to Hayden earlier?"
I look at him and keep my glower, "Why?"
"I'm asking that."
"We were talking about his girlfriend."
"If he has a girlfriend," he leans forward, "why was his arm around you?"
I hesitate to answer. I could have just said because Hayden was my friend, but Taron didn't look like he wanted to hear that.
"Are you jealous?"
"A little bit," he told me. I raise a brow. Honest. I like honest.
"Say nothing," I tell him, "It's not a big deal, I promise." I didn't think I could ever see Hayden as anything more than Hayden and he probably thought the same. "You don't need to be jealous of Hayden, Taron."
"Are you mad at me?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"No."
"I'm not mad at you."
"Come over," he told me then.
"Can't," I say, "Gotta get the kids today."
"Oh yeah," he sat back, "Want me to drive you?"
"No, I'll walk."
"It's pretty far. Won't you be tired? And you won't get there on time, they'll be waiting."
"Ok fine."
He took my hand though, "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do though. You know that right?"
"Yeah," I smile at him, even though I wasn't sure, "I know."

He drives me and when I get out, he follows me. "I'll kiss you later," I tell him, because I forgot.
"Nah, I'm coming with you."
"You can't," I say, already walking past the last parents getting their children. I hear feet after me nonetheless.