Danny hung up the phone.
I knew what I had to do. After all, it was a choice between sleeping with an obsessed guy which I hardly knew, and my best friend.
Easy decision, huh? Not so simple to carry out, though.
Jonathan let me go. He said he wanted some proof of ‘all this stuff and nonsense’, meaning the phone call and the request.
Isaac let me off, too. Strangely, he didn’t seem too upset at what Danny wanted. He was expressionless, and kept on with his blank look even when Jonathan taunted him. (“Taryn, is this the kind of guy you want? Who doesn’t fight back?”)
I seriously didn’t think I was stupid to walk into the trap, mainly, Danny’s house. I knew my friend very well, except for the time that he turned sort of maniacal when he caught Isaac and I kissing. Apart from that, I knew that Danny wouldn’t actually rush into things.
And like I mentioned earlier, it was either spend time with him or Jonathan.
When I reached Danny’s house, I saw him rush out and hug me, not giving me any breathing space. “Hon! I’ve missed you!” he crooned loudly. I didn’t know if he was so loud because he was excited, or if he was doing it on purpose.
“Okay,” I said, as we entered the house, “What was that all about?”
“I was trying to throw him off your track,” he murmured, “Oh, and that reminds me.” He bent front and kissed me.
“What the --” I tried to step back.
“Don’t,” Danny warned. He gripped his fingers tightly around my wrist. His fingernails digging in my skin. The gesture shocked me. Danny was usually so gentle. Why was he hurting me?
In the few seconds I stopped to wonder what was happening to Danny, he had started kissing me again. But this time making it more extreme.
He moved he’s mouth to my throat. Okay. This time, he was seriously freaking me out.
“Stop, Danny, please,” I muttered. I didn’t want his parent to suddenly come into the room and see us sort of making out.
“Okay, as you wish,” he smiled at me and led me into his room gently.
“Thank you so much for asking my permission and half shocking me!” I informed him sarcastically.
“No prob.,” he commented lightly, “I didn’t really mind, anyway.”
Then something hit me. “Wait!” I exclaimed, “What were you saying before? About getting him off my track? Who? What?”
“Oh, that..” he gave a sigh, “Isaac sms-ed me, just when Jon and you were well, confronting each other. He told me to call you over, to well, help.”
“What?” the fact that Isaac did that was kind of shocking. “Can I see the sms?”
He hesitated for a second, then thrust his phone to me:
‘Taryn in trouble. Blckmled by Jon. Posin s ur gf. Cal hr nw 2 hlp. Thx. Isc.’
“I was surprised, too,” he admitted, “Shouldn’t have believed that he would come to me for help, after, u know?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, Isaac was so sweet, so generous, calling his competitor for help. “Thank, anyway.”
He nodded. “Like I said, no problem.”
I smiled at him back, misty eyed. Him being so nice made it harder for me to choose, especially since I already had a feeling who was going to win.
* * *
I met Chloe in class applying makeup in her seat. She always did that on rainy days. I stomped over and ‘helped’ myself to her lip gloss.
“Hey? What’s wrong?” she queried. “That’s Mac, you know? The so famous brand? And you’re using up all of it? Literally.” She added as I applied yet another layer of gloss to my lips.
“What’s wrong?” she asked again, taking a swift glance at my stormy face. “I guess you do need the makeup after all, you look pale. Care for some blush?” She offered.
I must have looked really not in the mood for jokes, so she lowered her voice and asked concernedly, “It’s Jonathan, isn’t it?”
My look explained everything. Well, everything except why I was finishing off her lip gloss. She picked up what I was thinking. “And why are you putting on 10 pounds of gloss? I doubt it’s to kiss Jon, although the label does say it can, uh, ‘give volume’ to your lips.”
“No,” I sighed, “I just feel like having a cover over me. I can be anyone I want to be! You know?”
“Sure, I do,” Chloe chirped cheerfully, “Maybe you want to put on more makeup to, um, cover up? Eyeliner? Mascara? Eye shadow? Bronzer? Bl--”
“No, thanks,” I laughed, “I could always count on my friend to cheer me up.
“Hey, guys!” I heard the familiar voice and shuddered, it was Jonathan. “I’ve missed you!”
At once, cries of, “Welcome home, Jon!”, “Hi, again.” and “Great to see you!” were audible.
Not from me, though. I gave him a smile, and a nod, and pointedly resumed my conversation about makeup with Chloe, indicating that I did not want to be interrupted.
He caught the gist of what I was trying to say. I think he was hoping for a bigger welcome, especially from me. Since I didn’t jump out of my chair and give him a huge welcome, he turned a little sulky.
“Fine, be childish,” he pouted, “But your scholarship is on the line already.”
“It already will be, anyway,” I pointed out to him, then added gently, “If I have a boyfriend, the chances of getting a scholarship is less. The scholarship bearers will give the scholarship to someone who isn’t focused on a relationship instead, think about it.”
“Yeah?” he struggled to think of a decent reason, “But your ‘good student’ reputation might be in danger, after all, if I put the videos online.”
“Oh?”
He rolled his eyes, “Of course, Taryn, why do you think I got the videos for, anyway? For fun? I don’t think so. And stop playing around with me. Unless you start acting my girlfriend now, you are going to be in serious trouble.”
“Sure thing, Jon,” I smiled sweetly, “We’ll start soon, don’t worry.”
In truth, I was hoping to buy some more time. I was sure that the real, sweet Jonathan was still there somewhere, I just needed to grasp hold of him before he was completely gone.
Or would it be too late?
* * *
Something weird was happening. Weird. Impossible, even.
It was French. And I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Jonathan was jabbering away in French -flawless French, it seemed- to the French teacher. I wasn’t surprised about the ‘talking to teacher’ part, most students did that. I was just astounded that Jonathan could actually speak French. The last time I saw him learning the language, he could barely pronounce ‘Bonjour’ correctly.
Now? Chattering away in quick French? He wasn’t the kind of guy who would go for some ‘extensive’ French class.
“Impressed?” he winked at me as he sat down. Oh, and did I mention that he was usually un-show offish?
“I went to France,” he explained. “Pretty cool.”
“Oh, wow,” I didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah, loads of cool girls there, if you get my gist,” he winked, again.
I stared. What the world was wrong with him? One second, he was being normal and friendly, telling me about France. Next moment, he had turned into some sort of creep, trying to make me jealous. Too bad he couldn’t have hooked up with a girl there and then, I thought regretfully, maybe he would have left me alone then. But on the other hand, why work to be in a relationship when he could simply blackmail the girl he wanted, to do whatever he wished for.
I wished more than ever for the old Jonathan to come back. This ‘new’ guy was not real, at all.
Time was running out, unfortunately.
Then, I felt my phone vibrate. Thank goodness I had switched off my phone to silent mode. I didn’t feel like having my phone confiscated at a day like this.
Someone had just sent me a message. I read the text, and immediately froze.
‘I’m coming back tomorrow. In the airport now. Can’t wait to see you guys again. Jonathan.’
It couldn’t be, could it?
Jonathan was just sitting across me. I looked up at him, he gazed back innocently at me. I noticed that his right hand was in his pocket.
Could it be a coincidence? Or did he deliberately send me the text to startle me out of my mind?
I hoped it was the latter. If it wasn’t, then who on earth would actually sms me, bearing the name Jonathan?
