Page 11 of Trading Paint

“You stop moving.” He shot her a glare. “I’m uncomfortable.”

“Well if you stop jumping around you might be comfortable. You’re moving around so much you’re about to throw your back out.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked her.

“What’s wrong with me? You’re driving me insane!” she exclaimed throwing her magazine at him. “Stop moving. You’re vibrating my seat with all this moving.”

“You enjoying the vibrating?” he teased.

Jameson couldn’t help himself. He had a knack, like Spencer, for turning any conversation dirty if he needed to embarrass you.

“You wish shit head.” She rolled her eyes. “Stop moving.”

I laughed at their silly argument. After that, I befriended her as my cohort in my attacks.

I learned that Alley lived in Olympia, Washington, which was about forty-five minutes from Elma.

“Who’s the ape in front of us with the pink mouth?” Alley asked eventually.

Jameson and I let out a childish giggle.

“Spencer, my brother,” He replied.

“Why is his mouth pink?”

“We slipped food coloring into his soda.”

Alley smiled and went in for the kill.

An hour later, Spencer and Alley were chatting and Jameson and I were not pleased. This did not work in our favor.

“That couldn’t have gone any worse.” Jameson finally said disgusted that Spencer was pulling out all the tricks for this blonde beauty.

I thought it was somewhat cute. Spencer has always been a chick magnet and had scored more than the whole football team with the girls. He was a god at Elma High School and everyone thought Jameson would live up to Spencer’s reputation.

Jameson, on the other hand, could give a flying fuck about girls.

That was a lie. I saw that he looked at girls, particularly the ones at the track but he never showed a real interest in them and he never flirted.

At times, it was hard to tell if he was even interested in the opposite sex at times but after our few exchanges that we’ve had...I’d say he was into the girls. It just had to be the right one.

We did our fair share of messing around because let’s be real, we were teenagers and we pushed boundaries.

I still remember the first time I saw him kiss another girl and I didn’t like it. I don’t know why, but I didn’t like it.

It was at Elma, after a race he won and the trophy girl,DesyMiller, kissed him. The next thing I knew, the two of them were making out beside his car.

I didn’t like her, but I didn’t knowwhyI didn’t like her. Maybe it was her name?

I can only guess the real reason was because I hated trophy girls and I thought Jameson deserved better than a trophy girl. He needed someone who was stable and in my book, trophy girls were not. They were clingy gold digging pit lizards and my best friend deserved more than that.

I remember approaching him as he loaded his car,Desynowhere in sight thank god.

“Nice race,” I said congratulating him on his win.

Jameson closed the door to the hauler, looking over his shoulder at me before locking the door securely. “Where were you?”

“You were busy so I let you celebrate.” I told him honestly.

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