Something More (4 page)

“Have you seen Jamison yet?” She had Nyla’s attention again.

“Yes, he’s in a few of my classes,” she said, annoyance in her voice.

“Sweetie, it’s not that bad, is it? I bumped into his mom the other day at the grocery. They are so proud of him going off to Chicago like that. You could just tell in her voice. Is he being pleasant?” Her mother knew their history; she spent many nights comforting Nyla because she couldn’t contain her anger or hurt from something at school that Jamison always seemed to be the center of.

“It just seems like he’s just always there. This was my fresh start,” she whined as she went to the bathroom and undid her dress. She sat her phone on the counter and put it on speaker so that she could move around and get ready for bed.

“It is your fresh start; you can make friends and make a life that doesn’t have to include him.”

“I know; I’m working on it.” She removed her makeup and brushed the curls out of her hair.

“I know you are, and you’ll be amazing. If he starts up his old tricks, just ignore him; he’ll get tired of it and move on. His life doesn’t revolve around you, you know.” Nyla smiled at that. She knew it didn’t, and she could wait him out. She hoped. She yawned as she took her phone into the living room and lowered her bed with a thump. Her mother heard everything, the yawn and the thump.

“Well, sweetie, I’ll let you go; I just wanted to check on you. When are you coming home for the weekend?”

“Probably not for a while, I work Saturdays, you know.”

“Well, it’s only a four-hour drive. You should think about it. You can come down after work and go back Sunday; we miss you.” Nyla nodded, knowing she couldn’t see her. She missed her mom and sister too.

“OK call me soon. I love you.”

“I promise. I love you, too, Mom.” She ended the call and stretched out on the bed in her dark apartment, now used to the noises the city made all night long. They were the lullabies that sang her to sleep. While she drifted, however, she was suddenly in another place, staring at herself in a red spaghetti strapped baby doll dress. It had sequins on the top part and a soft, sheer fabric over a slightly patterned silk for the skirt. It was the night of the Freshman Fall Formal. She had wanted Devon Meyer to ask her to the dance, but Hershel Martin had instead. She remembered the panic she felt when he cornered her by her locker.

“Nyla, hi. Are you going to the dance?” She felt sorry for him because he wasn’t self-aware. He needed to shower, wear deodorant, and learn how to do laundry because no one apparently did. He wore the same black jeans every day and rotated four shirts. She had enough perspective to realize that he might not have had a great home life, but other kids didn’t. His teeth were yellow, and his hair was greased to the side, without the help of any hair products.

“I’m going with Dex and Emma,” she said without even thinking about it.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d go with me. I’ve never been to a dance before, and you know what everyone is saying,” he said quietly. “I thought maybe we could go together.” He looked hopeful.

“Sorry, I’m going with Dex and Emma.” She couldn’t even look at him as her cheeks burned. Then she saw him coming toward her. The flip of his head pulled his hair out his eyes, and her stomach flopped on itself.

“Hey, Nyla.” Devon smiled hopefully at her as he stepped out of the line of passing students and stood on the other side of her, and then he saw Hershel standing there. “Oh hey, Hershel. How’s it going?” Devon was tall and lanky. He had dirty blond hair and soft grey eyes. Though he wasn’t concerned with name brands other than Converse, he was stylish. He rode a bike that he did tricks on with his friends after school, and he usually hung out at the quick mart across from Target. The owner let the kids skateboard and ride their bikes in the back of his store. He’d even built them a ramp. She thought Devon was cool. She liked his sense of humor in class, and they passed notes in study hall. “Nyla, can I talk to you?” he asked nervously.

Reading his mind, Hershal said,“She’s going with Dex and Emma. She doesn’t want a date to the dance.” She cringed as she looked at Devon apologetically.

“Oh,” was all he said. Hershel turned without saying another word and left them standing there looking at each other.

“Well, I’m going to be there too with Will and Geoff. Maybe we can at least dance together, as friends.” Her hopeful smile turned down when she heard “as friends.”

“I’d like that,” she replied as he nodded and merged back into traffic and was gone.

So there she stood, waiting in the red dress. The doorbell rang, and when she answered it, Dex was there in a grey suit and his hightop, throw-back sneakers. Emma waved from the back seat of his mom’s van. They climbed in and were on their way. They took their picture together, Dex in the middle with an arm around Emma and Nyla. The girls turned into him both kicking up one leg as a joke. They found a table and sat. Dex and Nyla danced first. Then after a few songs, Dex and Emma danced. It was turning into a fun night considering she was dateless. Jamison sat in the corner surrounded by his friends and his date, Macy Henderson, his newest girlfriend and the prettiest girl in their class. He sat where he could see everything, facing the room, like he was the king and it was his kingdom. Finally, Nyla sat nervously sipping on her punch, searching the crowd for Devon. The chair beside her pulled out, and Hershel plopped down beside her. At that same moment, Devon came through the gym doors with his friends.

“I’m not going to kiss you, Hershel,” she said matter-of-factly anticipating his question.

“But everyone already thinks we have,” he coaxed, not very well.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” she replied dryly. He didn’t say anything else; he stood and walked away. Devon made a beeline for her table with his friends in tow. They watched her guardedly. They must have heard the rumors too, she reasoned.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, and she couldn’t help but smile at his hopeful eyes.

“I’d like that.” They walked to the dance floor and synched with the rhythm. Then just as they began moving, the DJ put on a slow song. They stood there staring at each other for a second, then he put his hands on her hips, and she put her hands on his shoulders. They began rocking back and forth with stiff movements.

“You look pretty.” He looked down.

“You look cute too.” She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned the room. Dex and Emma were dancing and looking as awkward as she felt. Her eyes fell on Jamison for a second. He glared at her but she knew she hadn’t done anything to him. In fact, since the first day of school, she’d not said one word to him, but there he was glaring at her. He didn’t look away; she did. She danced with Devon for seven more songs. She counted them, but then he said he had to go to the bathroom; she went back to the table and sat down with Dex and Emma.

“Things are looking good over there.” Emma nudged her. Her soft brown curls sprang around her face, fallen from her up-do. Dex raised his eyebrows and smiled widely at her.

“I really like him.” She leaned in and whispered so that no one could hear in the crowded room. When Devon came out of the bathroom, she smiled and waved. He looked at her with a strange look that she didn’t understand. He walked over to his friends by the bleachers pushed against the wall. He stood there with them for two songs, surveying the room but avoiding her. Then he was dancing with Bridget Moyer. He didn’t look at her again that night or Monday at school. In study hall she wrote him a note: What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Why won’t you talk to me? He kept it, and didn’t respond. That was the end of her romance with Devon.

She didn’t know why the memory was suddenly in the forefront of her mind. It confused her and dredged up her insecurities. She finally drifted to sleep.

Ethan entered the apartment moments after Jamison. He was whistling and had a goofy grin on his face.

“What’s that about?” Jamison asked with a smirk.

“First date.” He wiggled his eyebrows, went to the refrigerator, and took out a soda.

“Me too,” Jamison smirked again. “Who was the lucky lady?” He turned on the TV and fell into the couch. He threw his arm on the back of the couch and his legs on the coffee table.

“Who was your date with?” Ethan avoided the question.

“A Chick I met at the art gallery. Her name is Angela. Who’d you go out with?” He turned and looked at Ethan still standing in the kitchen.

“A girl from school.” Ethan crossed the room to go to his bedroom.

“Do I know her? Wait, is she a dog or something? Why won’t you tell me who she is?” Jamison went back to flipping channels.

“It was Nyla,” Ethan said stonefaced, as he stood frozen halfway between the kitchen and his bedroom. Jamison turned and faced him again. He tried to keep his expression guarded, but by the quick narrowing of Ethan’s eyes, he didn’t think he succeeded.

“Why would you go out with Nyla?” he asked almost to himself.

“I like her; she’s gorgeous and smart and funny, and she likes me.” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, standing there defiantly.

“Um, OK, if you like the neurotic type.” He turned back around and faced the TV.

“Don’t.” Ethan didn’t move.

“Don’t what?” Jamison asked not turning around, but he hoped his voice contained the innocence he was shooting for.

“Don’t do this; I saw how you looked at her yesterday. I know you two have a history of some sort, and I know she doesn’t care for you very much. I like living here, but if you’re going to rag on the girl I like, I will find another place to live.” Jamison knew that Ethan was threatening more than moving out. He threatened to move Jamison out of his study groups if he fell out with Nyla and Ethan. He didn’t know if he was more worried about his grades or losing his close access to Nyla.

“What makes you think we have history?” He tried to ignore Ethan’s threat.

“She told me.” He took a step closer to the couch.

“What else did she say about me?” Jamison couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Not much, but she asked if you’d said anything about her, probably afraid you’d say she was neurotic or something.” He sat down in the leather easy chair and leaned on his elbows, his eyes boring a hole through Jamison.

“Proves my point,” Jamison shrugged.

“Shut up. Why do you do that?” Ethan asked with a hard stare.

“What?”

“Pretend like you don’t care about anyone or anything? Like school, or Nyla. Will you even go on a second date with Angela? She’s like the sixth first date you’ve had since you’ve been here. What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything. I just like to keep my options open, and for your information, Angela and I are going out Saturday. Look, I’ve known Nyla since seventh grade. I tried to be her friend, but we always seemed to flow better as enemies. It’s weird; everything I did was simply in a response to her. Kids are mean, I guess.” Jamison shrugged at his last statement. Even he didn’t believe that completely.

“That’s a crap answer. I knew your type in high school. You were the bane of my existence. I’m sure you were the bane of her existence too.” Ethan glared at Jamison.

“Well, I’m not that person anymore.” He meant it too; he didn’t want to be that guy anymore.

“Why not? What’s different now?” Jamison didn’t know. He didn’t have the answer; he simply knew he had to prove himself to Nyla, to Ethan, and to everyone else in the world. He just hoped he’d get the second chance that he also knew that he didn’t deserve.

“I don’t know; I got bored with it or something maybe.” He truly didn’t have the answers or know how to make it up to Nyla for the way he had treated her in high school. But he was determined to.

Chapter 4

She halfway expected to see Jamison sitting in the middle of the lecture hall surrounded by girls ogling him. But she scanned all the faces, looking for his or a friendlier familiar face. He wasn’t there; she crossed her fingers, hoping she was lucky enough not to share another class with him. After a few minutes scanning faces she didn’t recognize, she found a familiar one. Maddie from her Spanish and anthropology study groups sat near the front. At the same moment, she saw Nyla and waved frantically. Nyla smiled and walked toward her. Maddie was a pretty girl with jet black hair and sun-kissed skin. She had light freckles all over her round face, and a petite figure. Her narrow brown eyes were almost almond shaped. She said her eyes were a rarity for her Philippine descent. She was a beauty through and through.

“Can I sit with you?” Nyla asked shyly.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Maddie smiled. Nyla climbed over her and sat with a seat between them.

She took out her handheld recorder, a notebook, and a pencil. She began doodling on the page she had opened.

“Hey, Jami, you gonna sit with us?” Maddie asked flirtatiously. Nyla didn’t look up from her note pad; instead, she doodled a hole into the next page.

“If it’s OK with you, I’d like to. I don’t know anyone else in this class, it looks like.”

“Of course. I can scoot down.” She began shifting her things.

“No, this seat is fine. He plopped down between Maddie and Nyla and leaned forward and dug in his bag for a notepad and something to write with. Nyla looked anxiously over at Maddie, but she didn’t share Nyla’s concern; she had a wide smile across her face. Nyla stacked her things to move over a seat, but someone was sitting beside her on the other side. She looked around the room, but all the seats were taken. She was stuck. She looked back at Jamison. A small, crooked smile crept into the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the rest of the class. Maddie leaned in and whispered something to him. He chuckled and smiled at her charmingly. Nyla leaned away from them. The boy sitting beside her looked a little annoyed, but she didn’t care. Jamison continued to shower attention on Maddie as the professor came in. Nyla was annoyed, more so than the boy sharing her armrest. She wasn’t sure if it was purely his existence, or because he was capable of being nice. In fact, he had always been nice to everyone except her. She didn’t know why she expected anything to change in college. Although he hadn’t been mean to her, he had gone out of his way to be nice to her. She didn’t know which behavior made her more nervous. She was relieved when the professor began his lecture. She took detailed notes and doodled when there wasn’t anything worth noting, making graffiti-esque words and checker boards in her margins. Jamison leaned on their shared arm rest. She kept bumping him, but he didn’t move; he left his arm there against her. When class was over, she gathered her things as fast as she could. Then she sat back as the room cleared out. She didn’t want to fight the crowd for the two narrow doors. Once the aisle was clear, she made her way out. Standing there against the window with his back pack thrown over his shoulder was Ethan. She exhaled with relief.

“Lunch?” he asked.

“Sounds good.” They discovered a deli just off campus. She told him about her lecture, and he told her about his classes that morning. They spoke freely and comfortably. She didn’t mention Jamison; however, he was in her thoughts. She felt like she was beginning to obsess. She didn’t want even to think about Jamison; she wanted to enjoy her time with Ethan.

“And that was when I said ‘Henry, the placement of the comma depends on whether ‘I ate grandmother’ or ‘I ate, grandmother’.” He laughed at the elementary school joke. She smiled. “Well, we all laughed, even Henry.” He continued dominating the conversation. This she allowed, remaining silent and eating her salad and half sandwich.. She watched him—His quirky expression when he was about to say something witty. He pushed up his glasses every so often out of habit, not necessity. She leaned into him and could smell his musky smell. It wasn’t a bad smell at all; it was a natural smell. It actually stirred something in her. She didn’t understand that, but she liked the way he smelled without cologne. He spoke of his hippy parents who made him decide his own punishments growing up. Once he chose dessert for dinner for a week. After that he didn’t eat sweets for three years. She laughed at that story. He was very charismatic in his story telling, using voices and mimicking facial expressions. After they’d sat there for an hour and half, they stood, left a tip, and exited the deli.
He’s nice,
she thought.
He could make me happy, couldn’t he?
He walked her toward her street, to her apartment, and invited her to the library. She declined, stating that she would rather go home to study. She hugged him goodbye at her front door. He looked at her strangely, but accepted it.