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Dinner From Hell

"I can't find one goddamn thing to wear! This is fucking ridiculous!"

Daniel sighs. "I know you're freaking out, Lyndon, but please don't take the Lord's name in vain."

I scoff. "I'm not freaking out. I'm just annoyed with my wardrobe."

Lie. Total lie. I'm freaking the fuck out.

Jalen's supposed to pick me up for dinner with his parents, and as the time comes closer, I feel myself losing my mind. I'm sweating profusely, and being unable to find one decent piece of clothing isn't helping.

"You're definitely freaking out," Daniel says gently. He stands from his place on my bed, checking his watch. "What time is Jalen coming?"

"Soon!" I shout in his ear. I shoot him an apologetic look, before shouting, "Help me!"

"I approved of the first three dresses you tried on," Daniel says, sending me a small smile though it's clear he's losing his patience.

"What about this one?" I ask, motioning with my hand to the navy blue dress I'm currently wearing.

Daniel glances down and grimaces, covering it with a smile after.

"It's, uh," he begins lying. I send him a dry look, which results in him quickly saying, "It's not a good choice for this dinner."

"Just for the dinner, or for everything?"

"It could be good for... hanging around," he says in a slightly higher pitched voice.

I nod my head, making a mental note to trash the dress when I get home.

My bedroom door slams open, Noah's annoying face standing on the other side of it. He reaches an arm out to Daniel, motioning for him to step closer. Once he does, Noah wraps his arms around him. "Danny, please forgive me for being late and making you suffer in Lynnie's presence."

I raise my middle finger his way.

"It wasn't the worst way to spend the last ten minutes," Daniel jokes, voice muffled from being pushed against Noah's shoulder, but he makes no effort to stop it.

Noah's eyes scan the room, filled with dresses and skirts and heels thrown all over. "I feel even more sorry, now."

I shove both of them. "I'm dying over here, and you two are being useless."

"Lyndon, I—" Daniel tries defending.

Noah cuts him off. "Hey, you wanna fuck around with one of the biggest assholes at school? Deal with that shit on your own, then."

I blink at him, shocked at just how much he can't stand Jalen. Daniel doesn't seem shocked at the outburst, though.

"Why don't you call Malia?" Daniel suggests, trying to avoid anymore conversation about Jalen.

"I don't know..." I drag out, seriously doubting she can help me.

"Nope, perfect idea. Go do that. Bye," Noah says, whisking Daniel away and slamming my door shut behind him.

Kay. I guess calling Malia can't hurt.

Before I can change my mind, I'm dialing her number, doubting she'll even answer.

"Hey," comes the voice of my ever elusive cousin. "Is this important?"

"Nice to hear from you too, Malia," I say sarcastically. "I'm doing good, and you?"

"I doubt you're doing good if you called me," she answers quickly, clearly in no mood for pleasantries or jokes.

I can't argue with her about it, seeing as I am only calling her because things are currently not good in the wardrobe department. "I need to pick out a dress."

"For...?" she asks in a bored tone.

"Dinner with Jalen's parents," I answer in a murmur, suddenly unsure if telling her is the right idea.

Daniel knows about it because he happened to arrive just as I was getting ready, and since Noah got held up with his track friends, I cornered Daniel into helping me. Noah knew about the dinner from the night I got the invitation, since he barged into my room once I got home to grill me on what happened between Mom and I, only to find me sitting on the edge of my bed—panicking about agreeing to fake date Jalen for what felt like the millionth time.

Unlike those two bozo's though, Malia knows this relationship isn't real.

"Hm," Malia hums out. Before I can question that odd sound as a response, she says, "Wear something that goes past your mid thigh, but not below the knee. Preferably darker colors: black, navy blue, grey, something along those lines. Don't wear heels that are too high. Aurora will think you're a hooker. Don't go too heavy on the make up, either. Go all out for your hair, do not show up with a plain hairstyle."

My mouth hangs open, not expecting Malia to have that much entail on what not to do when visiting the Uccello's. I decide to ignore the feeling in my gut that wonders why she would know so much.

"Wow, okay, um, anything else?" I ask jokingly, still recovering from the information. I send a silent prayer to the god Daniel told me to respect, happy that I'd already went easy on the make up I did. Now I just need to fix my hair and put on the first dress I'd shown Daniel.

"If I were you, I'd choose a dress that airs your armpits out," she says lowly. "If you start nervous sweating and stains appear, you might as well just leave."

"Noted," I answer, trying to hold in the smile coming to my face at the fact that she remembers something so stupid as my armpits sweating when I'm nervous. "Thank you, Malia."

"I got to go. Good luck."

She's hanging up before I can respond, leaving me a little sad at her quick goodbye after I was trying to be sincere and thank her.

The next several minutes are spent fixing half of my hair up into a ponytail, hoping the different hairstyle looks decent on me. Then, I'm pulling on the second dress I tried on for Daniel, since that's the one that doesn't have sleeves.

My phone buzzes a few times just as I turn away from the mirror, helping me decide that leaving everything as it is right now is fine. If I keep messing with my hair or make up, I'll ruin it.

I have three text messages from Jalen. Before opening it, I'm shocked he's even texting me, seeing as we've texted once: the first time he got my number, and from what I'd understood, Daniel drafted that message for him.

Dude: Hert

Dude: Hert*

Dude: Heree**

I chuckle at the series of messages, before frowning at the fact that they're not simple typos, they're Jalen's daily struggle. A struggle he faces because of his parents.

I breathe in deeply as I exit my room, convincing myself to push my annoyance at his parents to the side until I properly meet them.

"Where are you going, Sunshine?"

My eyes roll on their own, a reflex to the sound of my father's voice. I look toward the couch, seeing my parents cuddled together as if they're still in the honeymoon phase—and they are. It always starts this way, and it only makes the fights they'll have later worse the longer this phase lasts.

"I'm having dinner at my boyfriend's house," I announce as I walk to the door.

Mom's face hardens at the news, while Dad looks completely shocked. I hear a scoff from the other couch, making me realize Knox is sitting in here, too.

He watches Mom with a sad expression, clearly hurt by the disappointed look on her face. His eyes quickly turn to me, face morphing into a glare at the fact that I'm the reason his mother is mad.

I shake away the urge to argue with him, knowing that his anger comes from hurt. And he's hurting because he was raised by the same people as me, so I know what he went through, and I know it was hard on him.

I ignore the looks my parents are giving me, both clearly wanting me to further explain. Instead, I look back to Knox, smile, and say, "Bye. I'll be back in a few hours."

I leave after, not wanting my parents to start asking questions. It's enough that I gave them somewhat of a time—even if I was technically telling Knox, not them.

Jalen's car is parked in front of my house. I slide into the seat, welcoming the warmth before quickly turning toward him.

His eyes are already on me, taking in what he can of my appearance before looking up and smiling. He bites his lip, then pulls away from the curb.

"Are you ready for this?" he asks while driving, one hand resting lazily over the gear stick while the other loosely grips the wheel.

He seems calmer than he did when this dinner was first mentioned.

"That's something you should have asked before driving off," I joke, trying to keep the calm atmosphere alive.

My real answer is no, I am not ready for this shit.

"I couldn't take the chances of you saying no and running out the car."

"What makes you think I won't jump out now?"

Jalen shakes his head. "You won't."

I raise a brow. "What makes you so sure?"

"Besides the fact that it'd be way too much work for you?" Jalen glances at me, flashing a bright smile. "It'll be useless. I'd chase you down."

"That's somehow creepy and kind of cute."

Jalen chuckles, leaning back into his seat.

"Stop trying to distract me," I quickly say once I realize we're almost there.

Jalen's smile grows. "Damn, my plan to take up your time to question me failed."

I lightly shove him. "Come on. I need some pointers before we get there."

The car halts at that damn stop sign, allowing Jalen to send me a dry look before checking for traffic and proceeding to drive.

It also gives me time to make the best puppy dog eyes I can manage.

He sighs. "I'll tell you this, my family is... rich."

I fake gasp. "No!"

Jalen's eyes roll. "Let me finish. I mean the entire Uccello family from Italy is rich. My dad took advantage of that wealth and came to America, expanding it and the family in a matter of years. Shit like that matters to him, and my mom. Her family knew my dad's for many years before they got married and had me."

I nod my head. "What about your sister?"

As the car pulls into the driveway, Jalen remains silent. Once we're parked, he takes the keys out of the ignition and turns to me. "She won't be here tonight."

"Why not?" I ask, unable to hide the whine in my voice.

"She's four years old, Lyndon," he says.

"And?" I ask, not understanding what age has to do with this.

"My parents don't want a child at dinner," he explains.

The tone of his voice makes my face drop. Clearly, not having children at dinner is something Jalen's grown up with.

This isn't the time to unpack that baggage, though.

"What's her name?" I ask, moving away from that topic.

"Victoria," he says with a small smile.

Before I can ask more about her personality or their relationship, Jalen's exiting the car. He opens my door and takes my hand, guiding us to the front of the house.

Jalen knocks once before the doors swing open, a woman in a maids outfit stepping out and giving Jalen a huge before ushering us inside. The foyer and grand staircase to the right, mixed with the marble floor and extravagant paintings lining the walls make the place look just as beautiful as I thought it'd be. Honestly, it's hard to tell whose mansion looks better—Jalen's or Cortney's.

"Hello, Miss Lyndon," a woman with a strong Italian accent says, before gently taking Jalen's coat off of him, then motioning for me to place mine in her hands.

As I do so, another maid rounds the corner, offering Jalen a bright smile before it drops as loud heels click against the floor behind her.

Suddenly, the room is tense, not feeling as beautiful anymore as the friendly atmosphere disappears.

"Nice to see you again, Lyndon," Aurora Uccello greets, though it doesn't sound like she thinks it is nice to see me.

"And you as well," I respond, mentally cringing at the way I worded that.

Get a fucking grip, bitch.

I don't need to turn Jalen's way to know he's shaking his head at me, but I do anyway, and just as he finishes, the little smirk he had disappears as he acknowledges the other person whose just entered the room.

A taller, heavier man stands one step behind Jalen's mom, and common sense tells me that this is his father. I vaguely remember him from the party, and standing this close to him confirms my original thought that he and his son are nothing alike.

"Emiliano," he introduces, extending a hand between us.

I hesitantly shake it, feeling Jalen's burning gaze on me as I say, "I'm Lyndon."

"I know," Emiliano replies. "Your name seems to be the only thing I know about you, seeing as Jalen hasn't spoken a word of you at all."

For some reason that stings, and I get the impression that it was his goal to hurt me.

Great, his father is as much of an asshole as his mom.

"I do, you just never listen," Jalen says in a clipped tone.

His father makes a noncommittal sound as Jalen brings a hand to the small of my back, gently pulling me closer to him, all while his mother watches with eyes like daggers.

When I meet her gaze, she flashes me a tight lipped smile, gesturing toward a room to the left of us as she says, "Let's gather here until dinner is ready."

The four of us move into some type of living room that's equipped with couches. Once Emiliano takes the single seater closest to a cart containing glasses and whiskey, he asks, "Lyndon, what do you do?"

I'm assuming this is his way of getting to know me, but it's a weird ass way to go about it. What do I do? Well, sir, I fake date your son to get you, your wife, and Cortney off his back!

"I'm a student," I say lowly, hoping this is an appropriate answer.

"At Arlin Preparatory?"

I nod my head, refraining from laughing at the fact that they refer to the school by its full name, too. Maybe I should start calling it Arlin.

"How did you and Jalen meet?"

My attention goes to Aurora, who's sitting on the two-seater couch, waiting for a reply to her question. I briefly glance at Jalen, who's to my right, but he keeps his gaze on the ground.

I guess I'm on my own.

"Health class," I answer, believing this is a safer answer than telling them we actually met at a party.

Aurora snickers, while Emiliano's eyes widen as he says, "You're telling us that you met Jalen in class? Lyndon, dear, that'd mean the boy would actually have to attend school for that to have happened."

Jalen's jaw clenches, but he still says nothing. This prompts me to say, "Well, it did happen, so that means he does attend school."

Emiliano leans back in his seat with an amused look on his face, and when I notice his eyes glancing across at his wife, I direct my gaze there, too. I don't know if I should be proud or scared at the brief look of annoyance in her eyes, but it's directed at Jalen—who's the barrier between us—so I'm more so worried for what she'll say next.

"Miss Lyndon, would you like tea?" One of the maids from earlier asks.

I hadn't even noticing them coming in, too focused on Aurora's icy glare.

"No, thank you," I decline with a smile, turning back to watch the same maid who took Jalen's coat off for him barely sparing him a glance now.

When she does, her tone is hushed. I barely hear what she asks him, but I guess Aurora does because she answers. "He doesn't need anything."

"What do your parents do, Lyndon?" Emiliano asks, making me turn toward him in time to see a maid passing him a glass of whiskey.

"My mother used to be a flight attendant, and now she works part time at a daycare," I answer, leaving out the fact that she hasn't been hired at a daycare out here yet, but for some reason, I don't want to say she's unemployed.

"And your father?" Emiliano asks before taking a sip of his drink.

The interest in his voice to hear what my dad does makes my skin crawl. Why does it matter?

"He's a broker," I say, playing with the hem of my dress as I continue. "He works at Wooded Capital Management, a financial planner based in the city. He's the person that makes deals between the company and their clients."

"Does he own the company?"

From the look on his face, it's clear he already knows the answer. I say it out loud anyway. "No, he doesn't. He was hired as the broker-dealer after working another job there."

And that's when I cut myself off, feeling oddly ashamed to say what he did, because he was a secretary—answering phone calls and filing paperwork. He was lower. I never cared before, but Jalen's parents certainly will.

"What's your father's name?" Aurora asks as a maid returns with a cup of tea for her.

"Nicholas Prince."

"Hm," she hums in thought. "He never worked for that company when I did business there. I've worked with them to sell a few of my paintings in the past."

"He's only been there four years or so," I reply, wishing I had said yes to a tea so I'd have something to distract myself with.

Or, you know, for Jalen to fucking contribute to the conversation.

"Where was he based before that?"

"In Florida for a few years," I answer, trying to be as vague as possible.

But Aurora's not having it. "And before that?"

"He was doing real estate."

I don't miss the looks of displeasure that come to their faces, or the sigh Jalen lets out.

Busy taking in everyone else's reactions to where this conversation is heading, I barely notice my clenched fist—barely feel how pissed off this is making me. It's odd, seeing as I never want to defend my father, but I know I could never shit on his work ethic. It may be what tore my family apart, but he put in work to make sure we'd be set for life. We're all living good because of it.

Deep down, I've always admired how he came up out of nothing. I'll just never say it to his face.

"It makes sense now," Aurora announces with a light giggle. When everyone looks at her, she explains. "The Prince name sounded very unfamiliar to me, but I figured your family had to have money if you're attending Arlin Preparatory. After hearing your father's backstory, it's clear you come from new money."

She says the words as if they're dirty. I look at her with confusion, not understanding how she can have the nerve to basically imply that I'm nothing. She mistakes this for me having not understood her at all, so, she clarifies.

"There's no respect earned when you hustle like that to reach any level of wealth the main families of New York City already have. It's nothing personal, darling."

Her condescending tone irks me, but my curiosity beats out my anger, as I refrain from commenting on anything else except, "The main families?"

"Ignore that, there are no main families," Jalen cuts in, finally speaking the fuck up. He leans closer to me, saying lowly, "Mom's just trying to make us look better than everybody, like usual."

Apparently, he didn't speak low enough, as Aurora hears. "Seems almost like an impossible task to make us look better."

It's clear as day that she's implying Jalen makes it hard to make the family look good.

A maid returns, announcing, "Miss Aurora, dinner is ready."

I breathe a sigh of relief, tension easing out of the room at the words.

"Lyndon, follow me," Aurora says while rising from her chair.

My relief is gone, eyes widening at the invitation. I turn to Jalen, who nods his head at me, silently telling me to go.

Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck everything.

I listen, following Aurora into the kitchen, though the voice in my head is screaming at to just leave.

Aurora walks through the large kitchen, and I'm shocked she'd even do such a thing. As she lifts pots and pans, using the five spoons in her hand to taste each plate passed by her, I begin to see she's a fucking control freak. She nods her head after each bite she takes, until we reach the end and she claps her hands.

"You may serve dinner," she tells the staff in the room, then turns to me. "Are you a fan of Italian food, Lyndon?"

"Yes. I eat anything."

"Really?" She asks with a raised brow, eyes looking me up and down. "No one would be able to tell."

She walks out the kitchen after, expecting me to follow, but I stay there a few seconds longer. Did she just fucking skinny shame me?

I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. Push it aside. You agreed to help Jalen. Don't lose your cool.

I follow where she went, reaching her side and seeing she hadn't noticed my absence, having been too busy monitoring the waiters setting up the table in the dining room right outside the kitchen.

Aurora motions with her head back toward the room we had been sitting in, and once we walk in, I notice Emiliano still seated in the chair we left him in, but Jalen's seat moved. He's closer to his father, both hunched over as they talk in whispers. Jalen's shoulders are tense he nods at whatever his father's just said. Emiliano glances at us, rises from his seat, and slaps Jalen on the shoulder. "Come on, son."

Jalen solemnly follows, looking defeated. "What's wrong?" I whisper once his parents walk to the dining room, giving Jalen and I our first seconds alone since we got here.

"Nothing," he replies curtly. I try to ignore the way my stomach churns at his tone, knowing he's upset because of his father, not me, but it still doesn't stop the hurt. He must notice because he sighs and touches my arm. "It's nothing to worry about, Lyndon. Let's go eat."

I nod along, but my worry doesn't leave. It only intensifies.

Emiliano sits at the head of the table, while Aurora claims the other side. This leaves Jalen across from me, and the thought of being so far away from him makes me more uneasy.

Once we're all seated, Aurora announces cheerily, "The courses for this meal are from the finest parts of our hometown, Milan."

Of course that's where they're from.

"And the wine," she continues as the servers come out with bottles. "This wine was taken from there. It's the most expensive bottle in almost all of the world."

Who gives a flying fuck.

"Lyndon, would you like some?"

I'd like for you to shut the hell up.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Uccello. I'm underage."

"Nonsense," she says with a wave of her hand. "When will you ever get the opportunity to taste something like this again?"

This bitch.

I send her a tight lipped smile, covering my glass with my hand when the server tries pouring the wine. He takes the hint, sending me a sympathetic smile, before scurrying into the kitchen.

It's quiet as the appetizers come out, and I spend the entire time munching on my salad. When the pasta arrives, I direct all my attention to my plate, not looking up until all that's left is sauce and I've already had way too much bread to continue scooping it up.

As the waiters come collect our dishes, I decide to be nice, seeing as the vibe in the room is awkward as we sit in silence—no food to distract us—and carrying out a conversation with Jalen's parents is not something I want to do again.

"I can help clear the table."

"That's not necessary," Aurora objects.

"This is what their job entails," Emiliano adds on, gesturing to the waiters surrounding us as they take our plates.

"There's more courses to come anyway. Make yourself comfortable, Lyndon," Aurora says while motioning to the waiters returning with our next set of food.

My eyes widen when they place the chicken in front of me. I'm full from dogging that pasta and all the bread. I'll be sick if I eat this.

When I look up, I see Jalen watching me with an amused glint in his eyes, teeth digging into the corner of his bottom lip as he tries to cover his laugh.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who catches Jalen's amusement. Aurora does, too, and she doesn't like it.

Her face hardens as she says, "I can understand your shock, Lyndon. I'm sure in your household you're used to the broker serving one main meal and calling it a night."

Her obnoxious laughter follows the statement, Emiliano joining in, both sounds echoing in my ears. My fists clench again.

I feel Jalen staring at me, trying to catch my attention, but I ignore him. Instead, I focus on his mother, biting the inside of my cheek as I reach for my utensils, once again distracting myself with food.

Emiliano and Aurora talk amongst themselves, and I tune them out until the magic words main families is brought up again.

"At least the Rousso's are tolerable. I'm dreading the next event where the Agramonte's will be in attendance," Aurora says in an annoyed tone.

"Eduardo Agramonte is a piece of work, but he stays out of people's way for the most part. You leave him alone, and he leaves you alone," Emilano says while digging into his food.

Aurora sighs. "That's true. Chances are he and his wife won't even show up. They're oddly keen on keeping their family out of the spotlight."

"The Townsend's, too. Harold never attends any events. Not like the Carrington's," Emiliano mutters before taking a sip of what's got to be his fourth glass of whiskey.

Aurora reaches for her third glass of wine—not that I'm counting or judging—and rolls her eyes. "People push the Carrington's into the spotlight because of how much they want to obtain their wealth. They put them on a goddamn pedestal."

I don't know much about these main families, only knowing the Rousso name through Cortney, and not knowing shit about the Agramonte's or Townsend's. But the Carrington's, that's a name I'm familiar. I may not know Kendrick Carrington personally, but that's Malia's stepdad, which means Malia is technically a Carrington.

I'm starting to get the impression that the Carrington's have more money than the Uccello's.

"The whole thing is absurd," Emiliano says while dropping his knife and fork, anger evident. "Kendrick is practically a free criminal with those deals he makes in order to raise his company. He's only respected because he comes from old money."

"Don't forget that tragedy he went through when both of his sons died. People tend to turn a blank eye when they know someone's gone through such pain," Aurora responds, the smallest bit of sympathy seeping into her tone.

I'm left confused. I didn't know Kendrick had kids—kids that died. I wonder if this happened before or after Malia's mom married him, and how it happened.

Jalen, who had been looking back and forth between his parents as they talked, directs his attention to his plate once the sons are mentioned.

"He's used that as his motivation to bring the company to new heights," Emiliano comments. "It's become his only child now."

What about Malia and Blair? The two children he received through marrying Titi Talia?

I'm so lost in the new thought of wondering exactly what relationship my cousins have with their stepfather that I don't realize the tables gone quiet. Jalen's parents are looking at me, waiting for me to add any insight into their conversation about billionaires.

I should probably just keep quiet, but something makes me say, "I've never met the man, but he's married to my aunt."

It gets quiet again, before a bubble of laughter escapes Aurora.

Yup, I should've kept my mouth shut.

"Taliana is your aunt?"

I nod.

"I'm assuming that means Malia is your cousin?"

I nod again, more hesitant this time since Aurora's eyes glanced toward Jalen when Malia's name was mentioned.

Jalen still hasn't looked up from his plate.

"Interesting," Aurora comments.

Nothing else is said for a moment, and though it's quiet like I've been wanting, I feel a bubble of dread building up in my stomach. So many more questions building in my head that I'm sure I'll never get the answers too.

"Sorry to hear you're related to that gold digger who only married Carrington for his money."

It goes silent again after Aurora speaks, several seconds passing as no one says a word.

And then, I let out a dry laugh, loud enough to garner the attention of everyone in the room. Jalen's mother's steely eyes settle on me, harsh and hardened before I say a word.

Good.

"It's funny how you're criticizing and accusing my aunt of marrying for money, when really, it seems like that'd be more of your M.O."

Shock comes to her face. Finally, an emotion is being shown for longer than five seconds. That perfect persona she tried giving off has vanished.

"How dare you..." she begins, but I cut her off real quick.

She's talked e-fucking-nough tonight.

"...point out a fact?" I continue for her. "From the moment I walked in all you've done is talk about money. If anyone values it more than anything, and would do just about whatever in order to get it, that'd be you, Mrs. Uccello."

Her jaw drops, hands tightly squeezing her fork that I'm sure she's wishing was my neck.

Emiliano Uccello, on the other hand, watches with a stoic face from his seat at the head of the table. He doesn't say a word, doesn't make any movements.

He simply observes my every move, before finally directing his gaze at Jalen, sending him a look I can't decipher.

Jalen seems to understand whatever the hell his father is trying to convey, and apparently, it's nothing good, because he's clenching his jaw and rising from his seat seconds later.

"Lyndon and I are leaving now," he announces, dropping the napkin from his lap and walking to my side of the table.

I quickly rise, following his actions, wanting to get the fuck out of here.

His mother reaches for her wine glass and says from over the rim, "Return no later than midnight without that disrespectful girl on your arm, Jalen."

Jalen's ocean eyes rage at her tone, before he sighs and rolls his eyes, choosing to not say a word to her as he places a gentle hand on my lower back and guides us out of the room.

We're silent the whole out the mansion and to his car. The minute Jalen drives out of the driveway and onto the open road, the car is filled with his loud laughter.

"Holy fucking shit," he shouts through his chuckles. "I can't believe you just did that."

I join in on his laughter, not entirely sure what part he finds so funny, but after dealing with that bullshit, I need a good laugh.

"You're amazing, Lyndon," he says, glancing at me before quickly directing his eyes back to the road. The car races down the freeway, taking us further and further away from that place. "You're so fucking amazing."

I can't help feeling giddy at his praise, at the genuine happiness in his voice and eyes.

"I've always had to bite my tongue," he starts to explain. "I know both of my parents are vengeful and nasty, so I've always had to watch myself. They'd ruin me just for talking back. I've had piss them off in other ways, and even then, they always find a way to get back at me."

My heart almost explodes at the fact that he's willingly sharing so much.

"I get it," I say in understanding, knowing just how difficult it is to deal with parents who are hard to reason with.

He glances at me again, just in time to see the smile I give him, hoping it conveys just how much I truly understand what he goes through.

When he sends a smile back, I feel something pass between us. I'm not sure if it's just a blanket of understanding coming over us, a connection or pull we're feeling at our alikeness, but whatever it is—it's strong.

"Do you need to get home at a certain time?" Jalen asks in a low voice.

"No," is my immediate response.

Shortly after, we're stopping at the park by Vittorio's ice cream shop. Usually this place is filled with crowds of people, but tonight, it's closed—empty and deserted.

It's just us here.

Jalen leaves the car on so the heat can continue warming us up, but other than the sound of the engine running, it's calm and quiet.

"Tell me the things you wish you could say," I whisper softly.

Jalen takes in a deep breath, glancing at the light coming from a corner store. "I'm gonna need some liquid courage first."

He's out of the car after I nod in agreement, returning with a case of beer and a pack of cigarettes he quickly chucks in the glove compartment when I send a look of disappointment.

After chugging almost half of a bottle back, he begins ranting, and I listen contently, reaching for my own bottle he kindly opens for me.

"For starters, I hate them," he begins, holding nothing back. "They pretended my dyslexia was nothing, and because of that, I'm a fucking moron. You know they didn't even want to get me tested?" He continues with a shake of the head, tone full of disbelief. "Vittorio was the one who made sure I was diagnosed properly, he was the one that confirmed there was actually something wrong with me. Made me realize I wasn't just an idiot for no reason."

I have to refrain from correcting him whenever he insults himself, knowing he'll only pull back if I interrupt. Instead, I take a big gulp of my Corona each time he does.

"Vittorio helped me cope as much as he could. He taught me to focus on sounds. I'm shit at speaking Italian, but over the years I've memorized how he pronounces the words. That's how I was able to learn that one fucking song on the piano. My parents expected more after years of lessons, but that was all I could do."

I reach a hand to lightly touch his wrist. He pauses for a second, glancing down at my hand, before looking back up to me, eyes softening.

"I ruined their friendship," he confesses, voice sounding far away for a moment. "Vittorio and my father don't talk anymore. They were best friends, practically brothers. I know my father blames me for the argument they had."

"They had an argument about you?" I ask, realizing Jalen's gone quiet after revealing that.

He nods, takes another chug of his beer before continuing. "According to my parents, Vittorio babied me." He pauses to roll those beautiful blue eyes. "It's actually funny," he says with a bitter laugh. "The nicer Vittorio was to me, and the nicer Anna and Sofi and all the other maids were, only made my parents become more mean. It's like they had to erase any act of kindness someone directed my way."

I don't join in on his laugh, instead understanding why the maids took care of him at the door, but ignored him once we entered the mansion.

"That's horrible," I comment, taking my own sip when Jalen shrugs in a what can you do? way. As if that's normal behavior for parents.

"It's not the worst thing they've done to me," Jalen says darkly, eyes narrowing as if reliving a memory.

I touch him again, as if this will encourage him to share with me.

He looks to me, hesitating, only making me worry more for what he'll reveal.

"Cortney Rousso," is all says, and that name is all it takes for me to understand.

And for me to shut the fuck up, desparate for him to say all he can about their history together.

"I've known Cortney for years. We were never really friends, but we got along well enough for the sake of our close families. Around the time we were fourteen is when I understood why my parents pushed me toward her," he states, shaking his head as if what he's about to say still baffles him. "Cortney didn't believe it would happen. She thought her parents only cared for Anthony and what he did with his life."

I frown when Jalen stops talking.

"Anthony is Cortney's older brother," he explains, making my frown disappear at the fact that he stopped so he could make sure I understood such a little detail in his story. "He was the favorite, until he turned around and basically told his parents to fuck off."

"He literally said that to them or...?" I trail off, impressed he could do such a thing. I briefly saw the Rousso parents—they're no joke.

I take a moment to picture Anthony, and how he was searching for Malia at the party, and then remembering Daniel saying he was closer with Jalen and David.

"Not those exact words, but they understood that's what he meant," Jalen says with a laugh, clearly remembering exactly what was said and still finding it amusing. It makes me wonder if he and Anthony are still friends. I didn't see them talk once at that party. "The golden child disobeyed them, making it clear he'd never do what they want."

"Anyway, I guess that's why Cortney never fought against the idea when it happened, because she was shocked and happy that her parents had chosen her," Jalen continues, adding with a cheeky smile, "Even if it meant being with me."

I try laughing at the joke, but my stomach is churning. Though I already know about the arrangement between them, I don't think it will never not make me feel sick.

The uneasiness must be clear on my face, or Jalen's just that good at reading me, because he says in a firm voice, "I never want to marry Cortney. In fact, I never want to get married. I see marriage as a business arrangement, and I hate business."

"That's because that's all you're surrounded by," I counter, trying to stupidly change his mind. "It seems like your parents marriage was arranged, and now you're being forced to do it, too. I'm assuming you watched Anthony turn down one of his own."

I wonder if Malia had something to do with that.

"Your parents marriage was most likely not a business arrangement. They got married, and look what happened," he replies.

He's not wrong. They got married out of purely wanting to be together, and now that marriage is hanging on by a thread. It has been for years.

I never want to be like them.

"They lost their passion years ago, and it's turned into hatred towards each other," I reveal, never having voiced these thoughts to anyone before. "I think they both hold resentment at the other for holding them back."

Jalen keeps his eyes trained on me, taking another sip of his beer, intently listening as I work through my thoughts.

"I'm pretty sure my mom quit her first job because of my dad, and now my dad puts work above our family every single day. How ironic and fucked up is that?"

I release a laugh that contains no humor, chugging more than half of my beer, knowing I'll regret it in the morning.

"Marriage is a joke," Jalen says with a loud laugh, raising his beer in the air.

I clink the top of mine against his, agreeing, before finishing the bottle off.

"I'd rather just be with somebody without that big commitment," I confess, having changed my mind in a matter of minutes. "We can decide what we want to do together. And he'll hopefully be someone who'll want to travel the world someday—just us."

"I'd be down," Jalen says with a nod of his head. "That sounds like the greatest idea I've ever heard."

We look at each other again, and that same thing that passed between us as we drove here resurfaces. The thought of spending the rest of my life like this with Jalen, maybe even traveling the world, sparks something inside of me that I can't deny.

I'm not sure if it's the one beer I had, or it's my true feelings taking over and deciding they're done hiding away.

I'm honestly not even sure who leans in first.

All I know is, we kiss. And we don't stop kissing.

Our lips don't break apart once as we push our empty beer bottles aside, move closer so we can be with one another, allow our hands to reach for any part of the other that we can.

The only time we take a moment to breathe is as we settle into the backseat of his car, and though I have no idea how we managed to get back here, I don't take another second to think about it, too focused on Jalen and how it feels like he's surrounding me.

I feel like I'm drowning in him, his smell, his touch, and I don't mind one bit.

I reach for him again, wanting to feel him, but he lightly pulls his head away. He presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes for a moment, before they open and I'm greeted by that beautiful blue ocean.

"Are you sure?" His voice is deeper than before, sending a chill through my body, but I don't miss the hesitation in his tone, the uncertainty. "Lyndon, are you sure about this?"

I've never been more sure about anything in my life than I am at this moment is what I mean to say, but with the weight of Jalen's body over mine, the feel of every ridge and muscle on his body touching me, all I can manage to reply with is a breathless, "Yes."

His eyes flicker with an emotion I can't quit decipher, having come and gone too quick for me to keep up. It doesn't help that I'm a little hazy from the beer and, well, from him. Jalen's always felt like some kind of drug I just can't get enough, I can't quit.

Jalen's lips meet mine in a sweet and brief kiss, and when he pulls back one more time, no doubt ready to ask are you sure? again, I shut him up with a hard kiss, wrapping my legs around his waist firmly.

There's no denying the pull toward one another after that, and neither of us mind.

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A / N:
It's a month late, but this chapter is finally here! I'm sure you can tell by the ending that... well... things are about to change. We've finally reached the turning point in the story, and I can't wait to write everything that will happen next. From what I've planned out, we still have twenty chapters to go. Clearly, a lot still needs to happen. We're only halfway through this story. Let me know what you think, and I'll see you real soon with the next chapter!