Bet on It (68)
“Uhm, I’m sorry we got here so early,” Aja told Jade, who was stirring something in a pot on the stove.
“Oh, it’s fine, girl. I should have told you that Miri and Liv love being late.” She turned to Walker with a sly smile. “Can I make you a drink, Walker? We’ve got some good whiskey on the bar cart.”
“No, thank you. I’m good with this sweet tea for now.”
“All right, just let me know. I make a mean old-fashioned. I’ll even take my tiny kitchen flamethrower to an orange peel for you, since you’re a guest and all.”
His laugh was genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
When they’d arrived, Jade had said that her boyfriend had run out to get some wine and would be back shortly. He hoped that the other guests showed up around the same time as the boyfriend’s return. The only thing worse than actively participating in a dinner party was sitting around in stilted silence waiting for said dinner party to start.
On the way over, he’d made sure to think up a few conversation points—general things about his work and popular television shows and movies. He could spend a ton of time making conversation by complimenting the food, even if he didn’t end up loving it. He figured he had enough for a couple of hours. Past that, he had no idea what he’d talk about with people he didn’t know and would probably never get to know. Which was exactly why he didn’t want to waste all his semi-interesting talking points on awkward pre-dinner banter.
Aja looked as tense as he felt on the inside. She fiddled with her fingers on top of the island, dragging her nails across her palms, flicking her wrists, trying to crack her fingers every few moments. He could feel her leg bouncing underneath the table.
She’d told him that her friendship with these people was new, that she still wasn’t entirely sure of her place in the group. It was why she didn’t feel comfortable being a seventh wheel yet. Walker knew her pain well, understood it in an incredibly personal way. He also knew that nothing he could say would calm her nerves. That would only happen when she started to feel secure, and it wasn’t words from him that would help her get there.
From the outside, he could see clearly that Jade liked Aja. When they’d come in, Jade had asked Aja if she could give her a hug. When Aja had agreed, Jade had all but attacked her with her arms, the look on her face distinctly happy.
Walker wasn’t sure if Jade felt the need to impress Aja, or if she was always like this, but she’d pulled out all the stops when they’d gotten settled. She’d offered Aja nearly every item in her fridge as a snack. She’d even told her that she would call her boyfriend and get him to bring something back from the store if she needed it.
Aja had refused all but a glass of water and the cheese plate Jade had already set out on the table, and Jade had looked slightly disappointed at the low-maintenance request. When Aja mentioned that the meal Jade was making happened to be one of her favorites, the letdown on the other woman’s face immediately gave way to elation.
He sat there, his eyes going between the women like a tennis match, trying to discern their every action and expression. It was obvious to him that they both cared immensely. About what the other thought, about how they themselves were coming off, about the meaning behind accepting only a glass of water when there was perfectly good sweet tea right there. It was completely fascinating and clear that there were no bizarre ulterior motives or cattiness going on—just the nervous first blush of a budding friendship.
He wondered if the dance would become more intricate once the others arrived or if their presence would balance things out, make everyone a little calmer. He sure as hell hoped it was the latter. But it might have been hard for Aja to think that far ahead, past the discomfort she was currently feeling towards a different outcome. So he did the only thing he could without possibly embarrassing her in front of someone else. Slowly, he slid his hand up her leg, past her smooth calf and around her shin until he reached her knee. Softer and fleshier than his was, it was pliable under his fingers. When his thumb started to make circles on her skin, her leg stopped bouncing. Her hands continued to fidget, flicking and dragging and stretching, but she smiled over at him—sweet and grateful.
“OK, so—” Jade stopped, shook her head, breathed deep, then spoke again. “Just … am I supposed to keep pretendin’ like I don’t know you or…?”
For a moment, Walker thought she was talking to Aja, but when he looked over at her, he saw her staring right back, eyes wide.
“Oh my God,” Aja whispered. “I can’t believe I forgot.…”
Walker’s head began to spin. “Wait, what?”
“You guys went to high school together,” Aja whispered. “Oli-via and Miri too. They mentioned you when we were hanging out a few weeks ago and I … completely forgot. How could I forget?” The last part, she whispered to herself, but he heard it anyway.
His mouth gaped. He was sure that he looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
“So I take it you don’t remember me?” Jade joked.
He didn’t. Not at all. There wasn’t a single thing about her that he’d recognized upon meeting her. High school had been a murky time for him. Around eighth grade, he’d realized that leaving Greenbelt for good would be his only real chance at happiness. That if he wanted a good life, one away from the town he hated, he’d probably need to go to college. He also realized that he came from a family with very little money and the only way out would be through grants and scholarships and loans. So, he’d started applying himself. He’d spent the entirety of his four years in high school trying to maintain an A average while making himself as invisible as possible. He didn’t try to make friends. In fact, he’d actively rejected the idea. He told himself that it was better if he was alone. There would be less to hold him back and less to lose once he finally left. By the time he got to the College of Charleston, most of his peers at Greenbelt Senior High School were nothing but blurred faces in his mind.