Page 45 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“Keep your optimism. That’s what you can do for me right now.” I scrunch my brows at him, but he doesn’t falter. He’s not joking, and I’m not sure what to think about it. I mean, I knew he would latch on to anything I ever gave him, emotion wise, but this almost sounds like a plea.

His plea does weird things to my stomach. J’s brotherly love toward me has never been a secret, and I’ve tried not to take him for granted, ever. I’ve always helped him whenever possible, but it seems like the last ten minutes made him more positive than ever. Like maybe my optimism has made him see his true feelings for Foxy.

I don’t know what to do with this conversation, with any of this. I doubt he is, but I don’t want him banking on my future getting brighter. To admit I mean something to someone? That’s a lot of pressure. But I can try. I guess I never took him too seriously when he said he loved me like a brother. A part of me did, but the depth at which he does never registered. I’m such a douche.

CHAPTER20

A large bodydrops next to me, jiggling the bench as it dips and bows. I clutch on to my drink a tad dramatically and stiffen to keep from falling over. I guess a private college doesn’t care to give their students a proper set of metal bleachers.

Brett’s large arm drapes over my shoulders and he wraps a palm over my bicep, pulling me into his chest. He’s warm, inviting, sweet, and he smells like mint and… chocolate? Like a peppermint patty or a minty Oreo.

I spent most of the week texting back and forth with him and he offered to join me at the high school game. For whatever reason, Foxy wanted to go and his little brother still attends Bleudale Academy and is star quarterback on the rise to stardom. So Brett agreed to keeping me company. Football is not my favorite pastime, but I’m sure Foxy is afraid of being done with high school, so she insisted we watch the first game of the season.

I like Brett. Our conversations have gotten pretty deep over the past week and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that kiss in the hallway at Foxy’s party. I can still feel his lips on mine, his hands roaming my body and the way I’d wished he’d pushed it further. He’s made me laugh more than I have in a long while and threatened to beat up Jonas multiple times. That asshole is relentless in his mission to get me to give in to his request and fake date him. Each interaction with him is getting shorter and shorter, but I also feel like he is growing more desperate. I wish Brett went to Bleudale with me so he could monitor Jonas.

“Hello, Miss Miller, how are you?” Brett pops a kiss to the side of my head, his stubble dragging a couple of stray hairs away with it.

I peek up at him, trying not to blush and fail. Rolling my eyes at myself and hoping he doesn’t notice, I give him a warm, satisfied smile. I’m not ready for a relationship and I guess we’re not in a relationship. We haven’t put a label on anything, but I’m content.

Brett wasn’t there to witness what went down senior year, so I don’t feel like he is judging me, unlike someone else. I’m still not sure if I am ready to be with someone, but I’m okay with stealing a kiss or a hug here or there. For now. Brett is a good, sweet guy.

“Hi, Brett. How was your Friday?”

“Good, not bad, but could’ve been worse. However, it’s better now.” His eyes sparkle as he peers down at me. My lips deepen into the curve they started, and I rest my head against his pec. “Hey, Foxy. What’s good?”

“Ah, Brett. The playful, sweet older man. Themanther.” I whip my head to the side, pinning her with my gaze as my brows drop to the bridge of my nose and pinch in the middle. Foxy is not at all happy with me talking to Brett. She suspects there is something between Riggs and me and has put all her dollars on that dime.

“I prefer the term cradle robber, Foxy. It makes me seem much more badass,” Brett quips back, to which Foxy snarls and turns to the field.

She cups her chin in her hand, raising one heeled foot up on the bench before her and resting her elbow on her knee.

I wish I could say she is joking, but she’s not. She is legit annoyed that Brett is here. If I hadn’t warned him firsthand that Foxy was salty over the whole scenario, her outburst would embarrass me. Actually, I am a little embarrassed. Riggs is so out of the question it’s not even funny and she’s acting like a fool.

I think.

I haven’t talked to him since the park, but I can’t seem to convince myself I don’t want to know if that woman is his grandmother. If he lives in those rundown apartments, or if he was just stopping by to help her.

Yeah, I can’t figure it out either and quite frankly, it’s annoying. Riggs’ existence in my life isannoying.

It’s not like I can say, “Hey, is that old lady on the balcony related to you?” Because that would admit that I followed him home and would make me seem like a raging lunatic, only solidifying his less than pleasant thoughts of me. Foxy has convinced herself it’s because I’m in love with him, but I refuse that notion and accept it’s just because I’m trying to find dirt on him—expose him for the rat he is and wipe his virtuous reputation off the map.

His fucking grandma. Really?

He had to be helping an old, feeble woman into the damn house when I decided to follow him home like the deranged stalker I am?

Shit, I don’t even like the guy.

Yet I can’t wipe him from my mind.

Why can’t I put this much energy into an actual relationship with Brett? Oh, that’s right, I want the unattainable and like to derive pleasure from my pain. Sick and twisted.

“You guys wanna go get some food after this?” Brett inquires, his deep voice velvety smooth and more comforting than I anticipate. Maybe that’s because it is a reminder I am once again contemplating my non-existent relationship with Riggs. I need Brett to keep talking and bring me back to reality. Too bad I can’t go out to dinner with him and I highly doubt going out with Brett, being our third wheel, is something high on Foxy’s to-do list.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got some schoolwork to do.” Brett uses his free hand to push against my shoulder that touches his. He backs me away from him and squints down at me like I’m insane.Not far off.

“Charley, it’s Friday night. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m not trying to take any of these courses over again.” He pokes his lips out and turns them down, then bats his eyelashes.

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