Scared of Beautiful (Scared #1)(14)
I want to stop her, because she looks uncomfortable as hell right now. But I don’t, because I’m curious. “He thinks,” she continues, “that no matter what he or I say to you, you’ll think the worst, therefore I’m going to give you a completely valid reason as to why you should believe us.”
She stops and takes a deep breath, and I resist the urge to tell her to spit it out already. “I don’t sleep with Jackson’s type,” she finishes.
I raise my eyebrows curiously. “And what type is that?” I ask.
“The type with a dick,” she deadpans. “I don’t sleep with people like Jackson because Jackson is the wrong gender. I am not attracted to people of his gender. I’m attracted to people of your gender. And mine.”
“Oh,” I say quietly. Jade looks at me expectantly, and I struggle to answer because too many thoughts race through my head at once. I’m mostly relieved about this morning’s situation, but more so I’m confused as to why Jade has decided that this was something she needed to keep from me. What better way to find the answer than to just ask, right? “Why haven’t you told me until now, obviously only because Jackson asked you to? Is that who you were speaking to just now? Did you really think I would judge you?”
She plays with a long strand of hair, which I know is a nervous habit of hers. She sighs and looks directly at me, and I can see gratitude in her eyes, as if she expected me to react very differently from the way I am.
“The only people who knew in high school were my best friend Shana and Jackson, her then boyfriend. They didn’t care; but in middle school I was a tomboy, dressed like one, hung out with the boys. Shana was a blonde bombshell, and everyone loved to be around her. By the time high school started, Shana and I were as close as sisters, and I admit, I borrowed some of her popularity. I had filled out in all the right places. and my hair had grown longer. Shana taught me how to curl it, and hey presto, I wasn’t the weird. boy-looking sidekick anymore. I was popular, because to be popular, all you needed was the right look and the right friends.” She says the last sentence laced with sarcasm.
“Shana wasn’t your typical mean girl. She was popular, but very sweet. One day at a sleepover, I admitted to her that I thought I liked girls. I expected her to throw me out. She didn’t. She told me that I was the same person she met in middle school, and that she didn’t care.” Jade’s face softens as she remembers Shana’s kindness. “School went on as usual. Shana kept my secret, apart from telling Jackson, because there was very little if anything that she didn’t tell him. Shana left town before I could tell my parents. They both cried at first, but Jackson was there with me.”
I listen quietly as Jade speaks; it seems the respectful thing to do. I think back to my childhood and know how insanely difficult it would be to open up to anyone about how I felt, or what I went through with my parents.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I figured that since my parents and Jackson accepted me, the rest of the world would. Senior year I decided to date publicly, thinking that no one would care; only they did. The girls I was on the swim team with waited for me to leave before showering after practice. Friends that Shana and I had kept for years became suddenly distant. I would overhear the guys at school comment about how hot it would be to catch me naked with another chick. Jackson was the only one who didn’t change.” She exhales as she reaches the end of her confession, looking at me expectantly.
The fact that Jade is a lesbian has no bearing on how I feel about her as my friend. But I’m not good with words; I don’t know how to console or counsel people, so I do the only thing I can. I walk over to her bed and wordlessly place my arms around her neck in a tight hug. She hugs me back before grabbing my shoulders and pushing me back. “You’re a good friend,” she says. “But can you be a better friend and please go and f-ucking talk to Jackson, so he can stop blowing up my phone? He’s been nagging me all day. He’s a whiny bitch, you know. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when he starts getting on your nerves.”
She smiles at me cheekily. I grab my bag and make my way towards the door. “Maia,” Jade calls as I turn the handle. “Hurt him, and as much as I love you, I may have to kill you.”
I turn to her, grinning, but my smile quickly fades as I realize that the expression on her face is anything but playful. “The last few years for him have been anything but pleasant,” she trails off, and I decide to broach that subject later. At the moment I need to apologize to Jackson for being such a bitch to him.
“I love you too, even if you are a crazy bitch,” I call over my shoulder as I close the door.
* * *
Making my way to Jackson’s dorm room, Jade’s story plays over and over again in my head. Maybe it’s because I grew up with the continual judgment that is rife within the upper echelons of New York society, but I never understood why people could be such *s. Still, Jade was guaranteed to have at least one friend besides Jackson who didn’t give a shit about her sexual orientation. I round the corner to Jackson’s dorm, cursing myself for wearing wedge heels for the trek halfway across the campus. I’m relieved to see the Mustang is parked in the lot out front. I’m surprised when butterflies explode in my stomach as I climb the stairs to the second floor, and I realize that I haven’t considered what the hell I’m going to say to him when I get there. No point in chickening out now.