Over the past few weeks, something strange, insane, and completely unexpected has happened.
Jessica Jermain and I have become friends.
Trust me, no one is more surprised than me. For eleven years, I despised her. The mere mention of her name made me cringe. Never, not once, did I envision us being civil.
But now Jessica Jermain and I are friends. Good friends, actually. I suppose I should stop using her full name when I talk about her.
It turns out that she isn't another cliché cheerleader. She has depth, dimension, and an IQ above 70. The other day, we spent an hour discussing Shakespearean literary devices. She's read Anthony and Cleopatra four times. She wants to name her firstborn son Domitius!
Damian, who is just as bewildered by this new friendship as I am, is falling more and more in love with her every day. Each tidbit of information I share with him plucks at his heartstrings like a harpist. When I told him of her love for Shakespeare, he wanted to be the Romeo to her Juliet. When he discovered her collection of ceramic horses, he wanted to ride off into the sunset beside her.
"She's so cute," he murmured. I could almost see the hearts in his eyes.
"The cutest," I replied with a chuckle. The closer I got to Jessica, the less annoying his obsession became.
Damian's crush didn't even falter when Jessica made the bold decision to dye her hair bright blue. With my help, we bleached her brunette locks and colored them—along with her entire upstairs bathroom, much to Aunt Heather's dismay—"Rockabilly Blue."
"I need a change," she told me as I slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and opened the bottle of hair dye. "I need something new. Something no one at that damn high school will ever expect."
She got exactly what she wanted. When Jessica marched through the hall the day after our hair-coloring adventure, nobody recognized her. Even Evan Miller, who dated her for two god damn years, had to do a double take.
Damian knew who she was right away, though.
I told Jose about my best friend's infatuation. I expected him to either find it amusing that Damian, who is by no means popular, has a crush on the most popular girl in our class, or be indifferent, since Damian isn't exactly his favorite person, anyway.
To my astonishment, he was thrilled—so thrilled, in fact, that he's decided he wants to play matchmaker.
"You can't be serious, Jose." I lie on his bed, my cheek pressed to his bare chest. "You're joking, right?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "Why not? He's your best male friend, and she's your best female friend. It's like the universe wants you to bring them together."
"The universe doesn't care about the interpersonal relations of two Michigan teens."
"I can help you. Not to brag, but at my old school, I was pretty good at this sort of thing. They used to call me 'The Love Doctor'."
"Put your bow and arrow away, Eros." I roll my eyes, an amused grin tugging at my lips.
"Is there a reason you're so against this?"
"It just doesn't seem like the best idea."
"Why? Because you want Damian all to yourself?"
His question catches me off guard. I quickly shake my head, place my hand over his, and tell him, "I only have eyes for you. You know that."
"I know." He manages a half-smile. "Trust me, I'm not... I'm not jealous. I just don't get why you're so anti-Dessica."
"Dessica?"
YOU ARE READING
Four Walls (Book One) ✔️
Teen Fiction"You ungrateful bitch. I keep a roof over your head, and this is the thanks I get?" "You could have killed her," I retort, trying to muster up confidence that I don't possess. "What if she goes to the cops, Dad? That bruise on her face is enough to...