29 | Why Did We Move?

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Why Did We Move?

Once again, Jalen changes my mind about him and manages to make detention enjoyable.

It's pretty ironic that, the last time we both ended up in detention together, there was a rift between us. It was placed there by my careless mouth, and he was the one who had to forgive me for my mistake.

Is history repeating itself? Is it my turn to be the bigger person?

The situations seem incomparable, because our relationship has advanced so much since then. But aren't some things still the same? Weren't Jalen and I always like this? Things get miscommunicated, and someone has to take charge, push their pride aside, and make amends?

He said he didn't cheat that night. What else can I expect from him?

Answers as to where he was.

But is that pushing? Is it really my business? I've always known Jalen was a private person.

We didn't talk in detention. Well, we talked, it just wasn't about what happened that night, or our relationship.

Jalen had homework, so I decided to revive my reading lessons and help him understand what his assignment was.

Watching him try his hardest to put the sounds of each word together tore at my heartstrings.

How can I continue being mad? He gave me an answer. He said he didn't cheat. I can't expect him to tell me everything...

I keep repeating this to myself every time my doubt creeps back in.

When he reaches for his phone—that he was supposed to hand in, by the way—in between our little lesson. When detention ends and he offers to take me home. When Noah flashes me an are you really gonna leave with him? look, because he saw us in the hallway earlier and knows something was wrong. When Jalen decides to take a detour on our way to my house.

And I repeat it now, as Jalen walks toward the familiar table I'm sitting at, two cups of ice cream in hand.

"M'lady," he says with a bow, extending a cup to me after.

I send him a dry look.

"Am I doing too much?" he asks with a laugh.

"Yes, you are." I take the cup and quickly lick the side where my ice cream is beginning to spill. "Or maybe I'm just not used to you being a gentleman."

I giggle to myself at the comment as I collect napkins to wrap around the cup. It's the beginning of January, and I'm still trying to readjust to New York's cold winters.

When Jalen suggested stopping to get ice cream from his Zio Vittorio's shop, I hesitated—not because I didn't want to be with him, but because it's too fucking cold for ice cream.

In the end, Jalen won—like always.

Speaking of...

I look to him, wondering why he hasn't responded. I get my answer when I catch his stare focused intently on my lips.

"Really? This is what I mean when I say you're not a gentleman."

Jalen chuckles, then speaks in a deeper voice. "Don't pretend a gentleman is what you really want."

I roll my eyes and wave him off, but there's no denying the warmth I feel pooling in my stomach at the dark look in his eyes.

"C'mere," he commands from his side of the table.

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