Who Could Ask For Any More - Part Two - October
Title: Who Could Ask For Any More?
Part: Two
Word Count: 9,316
Previous Parts: Prologue | Part One
~
Jesse has been sat by the lake, swatting the bugs away, and waiting for Andrew for twenty minutes now. He hasn't turned up yet. Though, in no way is this a new development, Andrew has been late to every tutoring session he and Jesse have had for the past five weeks or so. Any normal person would just go down to the agreed meeting place half an hour later than planned so that they'd arrive just as Andrew did. Jesse, however, has an infallible sort of faith in Andrew, thinking that maybe, this time, he'll show up when agreed.
It's the second week of October, it's not cold at all, despite the approaching Fall, but Jesse decided earlier this morning to wear a light zip-up hoodie anyway, because, you know, 'just in case'. This week is math week -Andrew and Jesse had decided that the first and third Saturdays of the month would be dedicated to history, whilst the second and fourth would be dedicated to math.
When Andrew does turn up, precisely thirty-four minutes late, Jesse's relief is almost tangible in the air. He can't see Andrew's face, as he's carrying the seven text books he procured from the library a couple of weeks ago, an A4 note pad, a pack of ball-point pens, a calculator, a geometry set, and a bag of -probably Armie's- Skittles.
"Jesse, my wise and noble teacher. I'm ready to have some more knowledge inserted into me!"
"Well, that's the plan."
Andrew sits across from Jesse on the grass, and begins to lay his stuff out, he's wearing a pair of Aviator sunglasses, and a khaki button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jesse figures that over these past few weeks, he and Andrew have built up a strong enough rapport to allow for playful banter. "My God, Andrew, you look like a vice cop. All you're missing is the mustache."
"The look I was actually aiming for was in fact that of Maverick from Top Gun -minus the awesome jacket, which I, unfortunately, couldn't get hold of- but vice cop works too," Andrew shrugs, smiling.
"If you're Maverick, then who does that make me?"
"Goose?"
"I've only seen the movie once, but I'm pretty sure Goose dies."
"He does. I'd say you could be Iceman, but -my curly-haired friend- you're not an arsehole. Besides, Goose was Maverick's wingman," Andrew throws his hands into the air. "They were the greatest friends the sky has ever seen! We would totally work that!"
Jesse returns Andrew's smile, slapping his thigh, "I'll be Goose then."
"Good. Now, before we begin," Andrew holds his hands out flat, palms down. "We're eating these Skittles."
"Uh, Why?"
"Because I only got up an hour ago as I was up late last night drinking with Emma, I'm a little tired, and I'm in need of a sugar boost." Jesse's surprised that he didn't work this out earlier, as Andrew's hair is looking not dissimilar to an exploded mattress, but it works for him. Andrew tears the packet open and begins to arrange the Skittles on top of one of his books, separating them into colours. "We must eat them in the correct order. Green. Yellow. Orange. Red. Purple."
Jesse chuckles at the fact that Andrew has just as many oddly obsessive quirks as he himself does, an eyebrow raised. "What happens if we don't eat them in that order?"
"The world ends. Now. Eat."
Jesse takes the previous mention of Emma as a cue to ask the question that has been plaguing him ever since his first history class at the beginning of the semester. "Andrew, does, um, is Emma a, you know... a drug dealer?"
"What? No!" Andrew splutters. "What in God's name gave you that idea?"
"Oh, it was just I heard some girls talking a few weeks back," Jesse backtracks as quickly as he can. "I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, I know, but they said Emma could 'get anything' and that they've 'bought' from her before."
Andrew shakes his head. "She doesn't sell drugs, she sells alcohol."
"What?"
"Okay, here's the deal," Andrew starts working on the yellow pile. "Emma desperately wants to work on Broadway. She asked her parents if she could come here because the performing arts programme is incredible. The problem? Mr. and Mrs. Stone couldn't afford the tuition fees. So, Emma said she'd get a job whilst she's here, and help pay for as much as she can."
Jesse nods to encourage the story telling on. He can see himself in the lenses of Andrew's glasses. So he doesn't have to look at a pair of distorted reflections of himself any longer, Jesse glances over at the lake, watching the ducks as Andrew continues.
"Emma did get a job at first, working in this vintage clothing store in the city centre, but she could only work weekends and the pay was terrible, so she quit. On the way back to school, she stopped by this little grocery to buy some comfort food or whatever, and the guy behind the counter offered her a bottle of vodka. So she bought it, you know, because why the hell not? A few days later she went back to try it again. Maybe the guy thought she was twenty-one because it was dark out when she first came in, or maybe he was just an idiot. But the second time, there was a different person behind the counter, an older guy, and he willingly sold her alcohol too."
"So she figured, okay, this place is more than a little run down, and they just needed the cash, so by the looks of it, they'd sell whiskey to a six year old if it brought in some money. Emma decided that there'd be no point in being able to buy all those drinks if she can't do anything with them -she's not going to drink it all herself- so she decided to sell it here, for twice the amount that the store charges."
"Hasn't she ever got caught?" Jesse asks, turning back to Andrew.
"That's the beauty of it!" Andrew grins. "Emma is the only one who can get away with it, because the Head Prefect last year had a crush on her. Here, if you see any rule breaking, you tell a prefect, who tells Head Prefect, whom -if they think it's worth the time- will take it to a senior member of staff. If anyone else tried to do what Emma does, they'd get busted, but she never has. This year, she hit the jackpot. Justin's Head Prefect. He's a good friend of hers, so he told the other prefects to let her off if anyone rats on her. She can't be touched, and she can make anything up to $500 a month."
Jesse chews thoughtfully on a mouthful of orange Skittles. "Okay, well that's better than being a drug dealer, and I understand why she's doing it. Though, haven't any of you thought that maybe Justin has a crush on her, too?"
"Well, there are rumours. Justin's started taking dance classes, and everyone's been saying it's just so he can get close to Emma, because she takes them too. I mean, why would a guy like Justin take dance lessons?"
"Okay, I think he likes her," Jesse grins, then his face drops almost comically. "Oh shit, what about Joe?"
"I know," Andrew swallows, licking his lips (Jesse notices that his tongue has gone a little red from the candy.) "I've only been here for a year, and you even less, but you know as well as I do that Joe has been practically in love with her since freshman year, so he's not too happy at the moment. Have you seen him around Justin? He's more than a little hostile."
"Well, I haven't seen them in the same room yet."
"Hmm, well sometimes Joe is very open with his dislike, and sometimes he's more passive aggressive. Either way, Justin doesn't notice, or he just thinks that Joe's kidding." Andrew grins brightly, making Jesse's chest tighten for the briefest of moments. "You've got to love Justin, though, he sees the good in everyone, that guy."
"Yeah, I know."
Andrew has the last six Skittles -all purple- sat in the palm of his hand, he reaches out towards Jesse before saying, "Here, you have these ones. Open up!"
"I can feed myself, thank you," Jesse says, holding his hands out to take the Skittles from Andrew, but he's smiling.
Andrew holds his hand up and out of the way of Jesse's. "No, you can't. I've seen you in the cafeteria, and you always end up with more food on your shirt than in you do in your actual mouth. Come on, now."
Jesse rolls his eyes, but parts his lips obediently so that Andrew can tip the candy, gently, into his mouth. It's the absolute ghost of a touch, but Jesse feels Andrew's pinkie graze his lower lip, and it tingles slightly.
As Jesse chews, Andrew smiles softly at him. "Let's get down to the numbers."
***
Following three hours of listening to Andrew talk about inequalities, the sine rule, and quadratic equations as if he were explaining all of it to someone that already knew it, Jesse is still completely clueless.
"I don't understand how this is all so easy for you!" Jesse grumbles, pulling at his hair. "Why are we putting x there?"
"To balance the equation," Andrew replies simply. He smiles, looking Jesse in the eye with enough intensity and friendliness that strangely, it makes Jesse feel uncomfortable, in a good way, though, if that's possible.
"I still don't get it," Jesse replies quietly, almost breathlessly.
Andrew removes his sunglasses, and places them gently onto Jesse's face. "Listen, Goose, why don't we go back to yours and Joe's, and you can explain some of this Civil Rights stuff to me?"
"Really?" Jesse sighs with relief in response to Andrew's nod, smiling too. He gets to his feet, helping Andrew with his books. "I genuinely began to fear that my head may explode from all of those numbers."
Andrew and Jesse set off towards the boys dorms. "Math is easy, it's all about visualisation. The way I do it? I just picture the numbers in my head and move them around until what I see seems correct."
"That's the problem," Jesse replies. "There's too much stuff going through my head right now for that sort of thing to work."
***
Once he and Andrew have made it back to his dorm, Jesse opens the door to find Armie laid on Joe's bed reading a copy of Sports Illustrated, somehow watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother at the same time -Oh no, it isn't just Scrubs, Armie enjoys nearly all of the sitcoms that are aired, including reruns.
"Hey Ship Sinker!"
"Where's Joe?" Jesse asks abruptly.
"Studying with Josh. Apparently I was being too noisy so they kicked me out. Is that Bambi behind you?"
"Andrew? Yeah it is."
"Yes!" Andrew calls from behind Jesse, "and Bambi's incredibly frail limbs are going snap if he doesn't sit and put these books down some time soon, so can I come in please!?"
“Oh God, sorry!” Jesse steps aside to allow Andrew through the door.
"Hey Armie!" Andrew calls as he waddles in, face hidden behind books.
"Hey. Oh, and did you steal Josh's good mug, by the way?"
"No, I wouldn't steal Josh's good mug, I know he won't drink coffee out of anything else. So why would I do that to him?" From behind his books, Andrew turns to Jesse and winks playfully.
From what Jesse can see, Armie doesn't seem all that convinced, and Jesse doesn't blame him. "Who else would have taken it?"
"I don't know, do I?" Andrew replies. "He's probably lost it, it'll turn up."
"Fine, whatever. Oh, and please, Bambi,” Armie rolls his eyes, “call me Baking Soda Boy, we've discussed this. I create these nicknames for a reason, you know, they need to be used."
Andrew drops his stuff onto the floor and takes a seat on Jesse's bed. "But that's a bit of a mouthful, can I not just shorten it?"
"To?"
"B.S. Boy?"
Armie, clearly annoyed, slaps his magazine down onto his lap. "B.S. Boy? Are you kidding me? People'll think that means Bullshit Boy."
Andrew shrugs with one shoulder. "You do talk bullshit, sometimes."
"When?!" Armie cries, sitting up. "Give me a specific example."
Andrew smirks. "Well, there was that time when you said that you could do a push-up with sat Joe on your back."
"I can do that, Billy will tell you."
Jesse remains standing in the corner of the room, playing with his hands. "All of these nicknames are confusing me," he says quietly. Though, neither of the other two seem to have heard him.
"Be that as it may, I still I refuse to believe it until I see it," Andrew sing-songs, laying down on Jesse's bed, arms tucked behind his head.
"Fine!" Armie stands, violently flinging his magazine towards Andrew and missing him by a slim margin. "I'll go get Mozzarella now, and Billy, and Josh, and Emma. I want as many witnesses as possible."
"Still no nickname for Emma? Nor Josh? I think you're beginning to lose your touch," Andrew grins evilly, eyes sparkling somehow. "Bullshit Boy."
Armie has already began to walk towards to door, but once Andrew has spoken, he looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, and says "Fuck you" before walking out.
"Maybe later, baby!" Andrew cries following the slam of the door, laughing to himself.
"What was all that about?" Jesse asks, untying his hoodie from around his waist, removing Andrew's sunglasses and returning them to their owner.
"I just like winding him up," Andrew admits, sliding his sunglasses on as if to say deal with it. "He's so highly strung, it's hilarious, plus him and Josh are always picking on Justin, I know it‘s not serious, but I feel as though it‘s my duty to keep things even."
Jesse sits down at Andrew’s feet. “By stealing their candy and their 'good mugs'?”
“Yes.” Andrew grins, and then he rolls his head to the left to look at the shelf on the wall besides Jesse’s bed, he removes his sunglasses once more. “Wow, you have an awful lot of books.”
Currently, they’re arranged by colour, but sometimes Jesse likes to arrange them by author, or alphabetically by title, or chronologically by the date they were published, but it’s true, Jesse does have a lot of books, all of their spines creased and concave from repetitive reading and Jesse’s too tight grip.
“Oh, those aren’t all of them,” Jesse says, smiling a little at Andrew’s shocked expression. “The rest are at home, I’ve brought, I don’t know, maybe ten percent of my entire collection with me, just my favourites.”
Andrew sits up slowly, not making eye-contact. “I have maybe nine books, ten at a push, all math text books.”
“No?” Now it’s Jesse’s turn to be shocked.
“Yeah, I’ve never read an entire, you know, novel outside of English class. I never had time growing up with all the work I had to do -Justin said he told you about that. I didn't get a bedtime story as a child, I got a bedtime word problem, besides, I wouldn’t know where to start, what to read, which authors are good. I have no idea.”
“Would you like to borrow one of mine?” Jesse asks quietly. Hopefully.
“Could I? Would that be okay?” Andrew shifts onto his knees, proving to Jesse -using his eyes alone- that it is entirely possible for the colour brown to sparkle and shine. Jesse nods, Andrew smiles, speaking at a volume just above a whisper. “Pick one for me. Your absolute, number one favourite.”
Jesse lifts his hand to run a finger along the spines, he stops near the end of the shelf, and pulls out a once white -now greying- paperback. “On The Road,” he states simply. “Jack Kerouac. This is the one. I want you to read this one.”
“I’ve heard of this!” Andrew smiles happily. He moves to take the book from Jesse, the latter holds on a little longer than necessary, hoping that maybe Andrew will touch his hand, and that maybe that tingle from before will come back. “Thank you, I’ll start reading it tonight. Oh, this is kind of exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Jesse smiles, eyes soft as he watches Andrew place the novel between two particularly heavy text books. “Why are you doing that?”
Andrew is still gazing down at the books. “To keep it flat, I don’t want to ruin it, bend the pages or anything like that. It’s special to you," Andrew looks up, that little boy's grin etched onto his face, "so I really want to look after it properly."
With that, Jesse's heart swells to breaking point, and he's not quite sure of what to do with that. This is the first time that he's come across a person outside of his own family that genuinely cares, not just about him, but about his interests and getting to know him in general. Joe just likes having Jesse around, likes having someone to listen as he rambles on about video games and Emma and baseball, but Andrew, he only ever speaks about himself when Jesse asks a question, and the rest of the time? He's asking Jesse questions.
Andrew already knows about Jesse's desire to become a college professor. Andrew knows that Jesse isn't doing it to make his father proud, but simply because he genuinely wants to teach (Andrew also knows that Jesse gets freaked out by small children, so lecturing in a college to older students would make Jesse feel a lot more comfortable.) Jesse smiles behind closed lips and resists to the urge to lean forward and snuggle into Andrew's chest.
It is at this point that Armie arrives back at the dorm with Justin, Josh and Joe -Emma is at a singing lesson- and, much to Andrew's chagrin, performs seventeen successful push-ups with Joe sat, in the lotus position, on his back.
***
Andrew's British-isms are truly weird. Instead of saying things like "Holy shit!" or "Fucking hell!", he mixes the two together and yells "Shitting hell!" whenever something unexpected or shocking occurrs.
Example one: Jesse has been outlining the events of The Chicago Freedom Movement, explaining it's successes and failures, when Andrew cries, "Shitting hell! Gibraltar is a real place? What is this fuckery?"
"Were you paying attention to anything I just said?" Jesse asks, trying his hardest to replace a fond smile with a glower.
Andrew glances up at the wall beside Jesse's bed, above his book shelf, he's stuck up two maps, a world map and one of the US. "Well... no. I was admiring your maps, actually, when I saw that Gibraltar was on there."
"Damn, the English educational system must be terrible if you didn't know Gibraltar was real. Or maybe it's just you," Armie deadpans. He, Joe, Josh, and Justin are sat on the floor playing Halo 3 on the Xbox whilst Jesse attempts to force some historical knowledge into Andrew's head.
"Sorry!" Andrew lifts his hands in mock-surrender. "I thought it was a made up place. You know, like Narnia, or Terabithia, or Hogwarts."
Joe, eyes glued to the TV, yells, "Hogwarts is real, you fucking muggle!"
"Is it really?" Justin asks quietly, looking about the room for some kind of confirmation.
Josh shakes his head, laughing. "Oh my fucking God."
***
Jesse is getting mad now, and, as hypocritical as it would seem (given his trouble with math down at the lake) he truly cannot understand how Andrew isn't absorbing anything he's been saying. "Okay, for the last time, who coined the term 'Black Power'?"
"Malcolm X?"
"No! Come on, Andrew, I told you five minutes ago," Jesse gestures wildly about the air, his frustration so evident that Andrew sits back a little to avoid getting hit in the face. "It was Stokely Carmichael!"
"Who's that?"
"You're killing me here, you really, truly are."
"Calm. Down." Andrew takes Jesse's face in his hands, and despite their warmth, and their softness, and that lovely tingle of skin on skin, Jesse frowns hard. Oh, and yes, he's pouting like a five year old.
"Hey. Don't make that face, you'll get wrinkles," Andrew giggles, then sighs, "I'm sorry, but I guess it wasn't a good idea to do all of this studying on a Saturday. I mean, come on, it's seven o'clock, and it's the weekend and I just want to relax. I'm sorry, Jesse."
"We can reschedule," Jesse concedes, face warm.
"Vice City tournament!" Joe screams completely out of left field, fists held high above his head. Andrew's hands drop from Jesse's face, and Jesse is all too aware of their absence. Jesse wants to punch Joe now, best friend or no best friend, because he's ruined the moment with his video games and his yelling and now Andrew's hands are gone, and his face isn't inches away any more.
Andrew slips off of the bed to join the other four on the carpet. "Vice City tournament!"
Yep, Jesse definitely wants to punch Joe, that is, until, Andrew reaches out, grips the knee of Jesse's jeans and pulls him down onto the floor beside him. Jesse lands with a bump, but that doesn't matter because Andrew throws an arm around his shoulders, and now Jesse's yelling too despite himself, "Vice City tournament!"
"Yeeeees!" Armie cries manically at the top of his lungs, students four floors up can probably hear him now.
With all these high-fives and bro-ish hand-slaps and shoulder punches, Jesse feels as though he's joined some weird fraternity.
"Wait. Vice City as in Grand Theft Auto? That's a single player game, how could you possibly convert that into a tournament?" Jesse asks, confused.
"Simple," Josh explains happily. "Each of us gets fifteen minutes to go on a crazed rampage, your score depends on the crimes you commit. The person with the most points, wins."
Armie nods hard, looking to Justin. "Billy, get the rules."
Justin gets up and moves over to Joe's bed-side table, he produces a legal pad from the top drawer, and begins to read. "Two points for every car stolen. Two for every person you run over with the car. Three points if you steal a motorcycle. Five points for every person kill with a weapon. Five points if you get your hands on a Bazooka without using a cheat. If Michael Jackson's Billie Jean plays on your car stereo, ten points."
Armie nods courteously. "Everyone gets to choose a rule, so -Ship-Sinker- what's yours gonna be?"
"I really have to choose one?"
"Of course," all five chorus.
"Okay," Jesse begins to chew on his thumb, thinking hard. Andrew's looking down at him, lips stretched into a smile. "Alright. Ten points if you get your hands on a helicopter."
"Ugh that sucks," Justin says with clear disappointment in his tone. "But it'll do."
***
An hour later, the six guys reach the consensus that they are all hungry, and that the tournament has reached its end. All, except Armie, agree on that latter point. The six are walking, in a synchronised row, hands in pockets, across The Square towards the cafeteria -like a white, suburban, and way-less-cool version of Wu Tang Clan.
Armie explains, with fervor, just how Justin had supposedly cheated. "You heard the intro to Billie Jean just as you got out to grab that Bazooka, so you got back in the damn car just so you should get the ten points. Obvious cheating. I'd have come in third if it wasn't for that."
"Who cares?" Andrew asks, throwing his hands up. "Joe won regardless."
"Hell yeah I did. I'm pretty handy with a virtual Uzi, you know."
Which he is. Joe had won with a staggering 102 points. Justin came in second with -which he found all too hilarious- 69 points. Josh, 62. Armie, 60. Andrew, 57. Jesse came in sixth with 48 points, but it was his first time playing, after all, and he just couldn't bring himself -as hard as he may have tried- to drive on the pavement.
They make it to the cafeteria door, and Joe is literally about to open it when it flies out towards them, and Emma -a scarlet-haired blur- pushes through the group, yelling, "We're going to Burger King, come on!"
Not one of them follows, but instead, they watch her leave with bewildered looks on their faces, occasionally glancing at one another, searching for some sort of explanation.
A few seconds pass before she turns around, and from half way across The Square, motions for them to follow. "You coming or what?"
Joe and Justin are of course all too happy to go after her, Josh and Armie shrug and start walking, so Andrew and Jesse follow. Once they get over to Emma, Joe asks her what's going on.
"Gladys is off sick, so they've got Rosemary on dinner duty, and we all know that she's best left to slicing tomatoes for the salad bar. She can't cook at all. Saturday is spaghetti and meatballs night, and hell, I was looking forward to it, but since Gladys, the culinary god, is off, Rosemary's made meatloaf. Meatloaf? Can you believe it? And what's more, it's stringy, and chewy and just no. So I figured, since I just sold two bottles of gin for a large profit, I will buy my best friends a burger."
"Sweet!" Justin cries. "I'll drive!"
Justin runs up to the West building to fetch his keys, and upon his return, he leads the other six out to the parking lot out front of the school, and over to his car, a shockingly black, shiny Range Rover Sport. Jesse gapes.
Justin unlocks it using the fob on his key chain, and everyone makes a move to clamber inside except for Jesse, Andrew and Emma.
"Wait, wait, wait," Emma says, frowning. "Where is Jesse going to sit? This thing only has five seats?"
"Oh shit," Justin says, his door is still open. "I didn't even think of that."
"Not to worry," Andrew replies excitedly as he begins to run down to the other end of the parking lot. "He can ride with me!"
Jesse turns to Emma, evidently confused. "What's he talking about?"
No one decides to offer Jesse an answer. Instead, they avoid making eye contact with him whilst clearly attempting to keep laughter at bay. This is probably the only thing Jesse dislikes about being part of this group, the fact that he's completely out of the loop when it comes to inside jokes.
Then a sound, a sound shockingly similar to that of a group of angry bees, echoes from somewhere in the distance, gradually getting louder. The other five can no longer contain their laughter as Andrew slowly approaches riding a black Vespa that wouldn't look out of place in a cosmopolitan city center somewhere in Western Europe. Holding only one handle bar, he uses his spare hand keep a black helmet tucked beneath his armpit. His grin is threatening to split his cheeks as he yells "TADA!"
Jesse is laughing, partly amused and partly shocked, shaking his head. "Oh my God this it brilli- Oh no," his face falls, all traces of laughter leave his expression, "you want... you want me to get on the back of that?"
"Yes!" Armie yells excitedly from the back of the Range Rover. Jesse cannot see Armie himself, but Justin's car is shaking from the extent of his laughter.
"No," Jesse says flatly.
Andrew rolls his eyes. "Come on, Goose, come join Sheila and Maverick in the Dangerzone!"
"Who's Sheila?"
"My bike," Andrew pats a wing-mirror affectionately.
"That's so manly. " Jesse shakes his head vehemently, "but no, I'm not getting on the back of that. Besides, why does it have to be me?"
"You're the smallest, so you'll fit on the back much easier," Justin explains, leaning out of his window.
"Emma is smaller than me!"
"Oh but Justin and I had a bet going on last year's Superbowl, and because I won, I now have eternal front seat dibs, so it has to be you, I'm afraid," Emma rubs Jesse's arm consolingly, biting her lip.
"You know what? Fine!" Jesse huffs, throwing his hands into the air. "Andrew, my life is now in your hands, but I swear, if I get so much as a scratch on me, you're paying my medical bills."
"Oooh, feisty!" Andrew grins manically, inclining his head. "You'd go to the hospital for a scratch?"
Jesse tries his best not to get distracted by how undeniably adorable Andrew looks on his stupid scooter wearing his silly sunglasses and an entirely not stupid, but very beautiful, smile. "You can pay for a band-aid! Whatever. Have you got a helmet for me?"
"Uh... no, but you can take this one, I don't have to wear one."
"Andrew Garfield!" Emma cries.
"No!" Josh adds from somewhere in the depths of the Range Rover.
"Hardcore!" Justin yells, pumping his fist in the air. When Emma glares at him, he pulls his head back into the window and rolls it up. Jesse can vaguely picture Joe sat in the back seat, face full of glee.
"No, no, no," Jesse waves his hands out in front of himself. "No, Andrew. You are not riding that without a helmet."
"All that matters to me right now is keeping you safe," Andrew says happily, waving a hand as if to swat everyone's worry away. "I'll be fine."
"No you won't," Emma replies, fists balled up tight at her sides. "Listen we'll just have to stick you both in the trunk of Justin's car."
"Uh...no," Justin says, rolling down his window once more. "Overloading a car? That's illegal."
Emma speaks through gritted teeth. "You were all for Andrew not wearing a helmet. He's supposed to be your room mate, your friend."
"But that's got nothing to do with me, I'm not getting points on my license for a burger."
"Ugh! Fine, I'll drive us there." She steps forward to rap on the windows of the car. "Come on guys, get out, haul ass!"
None of them are willing to face the wrath of Emma Stone, so the guys exit the car quickly, Justin locks up. Andrew pushes his Vespa forwards and into a spare parking space, and packs his helmet into the storage compartment beneath its seat. The six guys follow Emma across the lot. Jesse walks a little faster to catch up with her. "You have a car too?" He asks, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jeans.
"Yeah, well, a truck. That one there." She points to a pale blue pick-up, patches of rust showing where the paint has fallen away. "Best I can afford. I know, I bet you're thinking 'Oh she makes loads of money from the booze', but no, most of that goes on tuition fees, so there's not much left over afterwards, these burgers are just a one off treat since Gladys is off. I don't drive unless I absolutely have to, that thing drinks gas like nobody's business."
They all stop once they reach the truck, and Emma turns to tell them that since only two of them can sit in the cab with her, three of them will have to sit in the back, on the bed. Apparently, she has no problem with breaking the law herself. Her argument is, "Haven't you seen the Beverly Hill-Billies? It'll be fine."
Jesse's not worried about legality, just the potential danger.
"I call shotgun!" Joe yells gleefully.
"Oh, no you don't," Emma replies, Joe is visibly crestfallen. "I think Jesse should take one of the seats, seeing as he's new."
Justin cries, "He's been here for a month!"
Emma ignores him. "The rest of you can, I don't know, play rock paper scissors or something for the other one."
The five remaining guys play two games. Joe is knocked out in the first round, his paper beaten by the scissors of the other four. During the second game, Andrew claims the other seat up front, beating Justin, Josh and Armie's rocks with his strategic use of paper. Jesse grins happily, watching as the four losers grumble and climb into the back.
Jesse ends up in the middle seat, squished between Emma and Andrew. Once Andrew has adjusted the lap-belt to Jesse's size, and has ensured that he's safely buckled in, Emma sets off.
"Say, Emma," Andrew says after she's been driving for a couple of minutes. "Do you still have my Red Hot Chili Peppers album in here?"
"Oh yeah! It's in the glove compartment. Sorry I haven't given it back yet, I've been listening to it a lot lately. Put it in if you want."
Andrew does just that. As he leans across Jesse's lap to slide the CD into the stereo, he asks. "You like the Chili's, Jesse? They're one of my favourites."
"Well, I've heard of them, but they're not really my sort of thing." That's a lie. Jesse hasn't heard of them, he just doesn't want Andrew to judge.
The first track begins to play, and whilst Jesse doesn't know the name of the song, he knows, from the guitar riff alone, that he's heard the song before, on the radio or something. He knows a few of the words, he's surprised to realise. Emma and Andrew are singing along rather loudly, the guys in the back, too. Loud enough to cover the voice on the track.
"Standing in line to see the show tonight, and there's a light on. Heavy glow..."
They continue to sing, Jesse sits awkwardly between them, singing the words below his breath, a little self-conscious. Then the rumbling bass-line shoots out of the speakers, and the song speeds up. Emma and Andrew go mad. Emma scrunches up her face, lifting a fist from the steering wheel to pump in the air; Andrew leans forward to drum rapidly on the dashboard, turning his head at regular intervals to yell the lyrics at Emma whilst Jesse looks on, eyes wide and slightly bemused.
"Steak knife!... Card shark!... Con job!... Boot cut!"
Jesse glances over his shoulder and out of the window in the back. Justin is sat, body-popping as if he were listening to a hip-hop song. Joe and Armie are dancing like Dads at a wedding whilst Josh covers his eyes, shaking his head. They appear to be having the time of their lives, from what Jesse can see of their faces, which are occasionally illuminated yellow by the street-lights passing over their heads.
Jesse beams, feeling happier than he ever has in his whole life. His entire body is trembling, like a child who can't wait a moment longer to open their presents on Christmas morning. It feels as though he's anticipating the greatest thing in the world, but it's already happening. He now understands that this is what it must feel like to be part of a real group of friends. Dancing and driving and singing along to what, right now, feels like the greatest song ever written.
Emma is surely speeding, but Jesse doesn't care any more. Through the streets of Poughkeepsie they fly, different coloured lights from store-fronts flashing through the windshield, turning Andrew's ecstatic face green, red, blue, orange, purple.
Then the chorus kicks in, and almost out of nowhere, Andrew's arm hooks itself around Jesse's neck, pulling him in. Still dancing in their seats, Emma and Andrew's shoulders shove Jesse from side to side, and whilst Jesse doesn't join in on that side of things, he now feels confident enough to sing along properly, turning to look at Andrew's almost-too excited face and screaming the words with everyone else, seeing as the chorus is the only part that he knows.
"By the way, I tried to say I'd be there, waiting for!..."
Jesse spends the rest of the journey with his head on Andrew's jiggling shoulder, watching as Emma looks up into the rear-view mirror every now and then, laughing hysterically as Justin attempts, but ultimately fails, to do the worm on the bed of the truck whilst it's still in motion.
Jesse thinks briefly about asking Andrew if he himself can borrow this CD once Emma is done with it, as it has provided the soundtrack to what has surely been the greatest few minutes of his life.
***
Whilst they could have easily eaten inside the restaurant itself, Emma has decided, instead, to pull up to the drive through. After ordering a cheeseburger for herself, a Chicken Royale for Andrew (whose plan to only eat salad has gone out of the window), a bag of fourteen chicken bites for Joe, a whopper each for Josh and Justin, two whoppers for Armie -who claims that he needs the calories "for rowing"- and a bag of large fries for the vegetarian Jesse, the seven sit alone in the parking lot. In the back of the truck, they eat beneath the yellow and red glow of the Burger King logo, sipping Cokes.
Whilst they'd been ordering their food, they'd managed to get through a couple more tracks on Andrew's CD. He tells Jesse that the track they're currently listening to is called Dosed. It's a lot slower and calmer than the one they'd been listening to during the drive. Jesse likes this one a lot, though not as much as the first.
"No, I'm telling you, this is Joe's, Jesse's, Andrew's and -hopefully- Justin's final year. We should get suitably wasted at some point, am I right? You guys can come over to mine since I've got a single, and I can get the booze in and it'll be brilliant!" Emma often speaks loudly -animatedly- though in no way is it annoying.
"I'm all for that plan!" Joe cries happily, chewing on his straw.
"No way, we couldn't do that," Armie replies adamantly, though clearly interested in Emma's proposal. "We couldn't drink in the dorms."
"We so could, Justin'll be there. Head Prefect, remember?" She flings an arm around his shoulders. Justin grins. Joe glowers.
A sharp gust of wind blows, causing goosebumps to pop up on Jesse's neck and thick strands of Emma's hair to blow across her face. Jesse pulls his hood up to keep the chill off his neck, glad for the warm fries in his hands. Almost instantly, Andrew begins to tug playfully on one of Jesse's hoodie strings, and no matter how many times Jesse tries to swat him away, that hand always comes back.
"Yeah, okay," Armie continues, "all I'm saying is that the teachers are a lot stricter with the girls, you of all people should know that. They're always randomly popping up on your side of The Square. If one just so happened to knock on your door, not only would we get busted for drinking, you'd be screwed, having six guys in your dorm, in a girls dorm."
"Okay!" Emma throws up her hands. "I'll drive you guys off campus, we can go camping in the woods or something, make a weekend of it. What do you guys think?"
"Like I said, I'm down for that," Joe grins, Justin nods in agreement, and Josh gives a thumbs up, seeing as he can't speak through his mouthful of food. Andrew and Jesse don't answer as they are too busy play fighting in the corner of the truck, Andrew's trying to get Jesse in some kind of headlock whilst the latter tries in vain to keep his fries and ketchup from spilling everywhere, both giggling like children. Not one of the other five pay an ounce of attention to them.
"I'm absolutely fine with going off campus, but we'll have to work out whe- Ahh! Would you fuckers calm down!?"
Jesse's fries soar in an arc through the air, one of them hitting Joe in the face. Jesse is now sprawled across Armie's lap, flustered and mildly disorientated as a result of having been shoved by Andrew. The latter dives, taking hold of Jesse's hoodie cords, pulling them hard and making Jesse's hood close up tight around his face. He finishes the deed off by tying the cords in a haphazard bow. Jesse doesn't move.
"Are you okay?" Andrew giggles, a bit late.
"Andrew, what the fuck are you doing?" Emma chortles.
"Look!" Andrew can barely speak for laughing. "It's Kenny from South Park!"
Jesse is still, for some strange reason, laid out across Armie's thighs. His eyes are all that can be seen of his face. In being pushed, he'd accidentally dropped his pot of ketchup down his front. It now looks as though he's been stabbed in the chest.
Imitating, almost perfectly, the shrill voice of Stan Marsh, Justin screams. "Oh, my God! You killed Kenny!"
To which Emma adds, "You bastard!"
This is the first time, as far back as Jesse can remember, that he's had a genuine laughing fit, his eyes scrunch up as he struggles to pull his hood off, cheeks red, hurting from smiling too much. All of them see the funny side, except Armie, who's smeared himself with mustard from his burger as a result of having had a young jewish boy thrown forcibly onto him.
"This shirt cost me forty dollars!" he cries.
Jesse is still giggling even after Armie manages to push him up and over towards the other end of the truck, Andrew steadies him by placing a hand on either side of his waist. Josh passes Armie and Jesse a handful of napkins each. The pair sit, trying to wipe condiments from their clothing whilst Andrew tries to get Jesse's hood back onto his head.
"Why on earth would you spend forty dollars on a shirt?," Jesse asks Armie between occasional follow up chuckles.
Armie doesn't get a chance to answer, because Justin cries through a mouthful of hamburger, "It's all about fashion, man!" Emma looks grossed out, and Joe glares at him, the loathing all too evident on his face.
"Well, I'm not sure if you guys have noticed, but I know absolutely nothing about fashion," Jesse is looking down, folding up his ketchup smeared napkins and looking around for somewhere to put them.
"You should get Justin to take you out shopping if you want to revamp your wardrobe," Emma offers. Jesse looks up to see Justin grin and Joe scoff. Emma continues, "He's great with clothes."
"That's actually a really good idea!" Andrew says happily. "It was your birthday a few weeks ago and none of us got you anything except Joe, though I wouldn't really count him 'letting you win' on Tekken as a gift. I know! We could all pitch in like twenty dollars, and maybe Justin can take you shopping!" He claps happily, bouncing in his seat.
"Yeah, that is a good idea, here Jess, take this," Josh places the remnants of his burger down and begins to root through his jeans pocket, producing a twenty dollar bill.
"Oh no, don't do that, really it's fine," Jesse says quickly, blushing. "Put your money away. Really, even if I did have cool new clothes, I'd still be a loser on the inside."
"You are not a loser, Jesse!" Andrew says. Hard. Firm. Jesse looks at him, Andrew eyes are flat and brown with determination. "You're brilliant, okay?"
Jesse swallows, feeling the blood rush in his cheeks. "Well, okay, but I dress weird, and I don't watch TV; I know nothing about sports like a guy is supposed to; I'm gay but I've never had a boyfriend; my music taste is really odd, and I suck at video games. I came to this school because I figured that I'd find out how to act like a teenager here, but I haven't. I'm still a child, and not a cool one at that," Jesse rambles, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "I need, like, a personality overhaul."
"We could so do that! Oh, my god, yes!" Emma cries, the heads of all six guys swing around to look at her as she sits up quickly. "Those things are all areas that each of us is an expert in. Justin can take you out shopping for new clothes; Armie can sit down with you and tell you which movies and TV shows are good; Josh can take you to a sports game and explain all that kind of stuff; Joe's the greatest gamer alive; I can teach you how to get boys to like you; and Andrew can tell you about all the good music that's out there. Oh, this is going to be so great. Please say yes, Jesse. Say you'll let us do this for you!"
Jesse shakes his head wearily. "Oh Emma, I don't know."
Andrew leans forward to place himself right into Jesse's eye-line, blocking Emma from view. "Say no."
"It's his decision, man. Let Jess decide for himself," Josh says from the other end of the truck, smiling brightly. "Personally, I think it's a great idea, if he wants to do it, that is. Basketball season's just started up, so I'll take you to a game if you want, Jess."
"But he doesn't need us to do that for him!" Andrew argues, gesticulating wildly, his cheeks reddening with frustration. "Getting him new clothes is fine, everyone needs clothes, but making him watch movies and shows that he doesn't like in the first place, and teaching him how to act around boys? That's just wrong. It'll be like we're grooming a puppy for a dog show, or a child for a beauty pageant. It'll be like a scene from Cruel Intentions or She's All That. It's wrong."
"But we won't be getting anything out of it like those guys in those movies did, we won't be winning any bets, or having sex with our creepy step-sisters," Emma shudders visibly. "We're just helping out our friend, we'll just be improving on the greatness we already have before us, right guys? If there's something Jesse doesn't like or doesn't want to do, then he doesn't have to accept it."
Jesse doesn't utter it aloud, but what Emma had just said really does sound appealing to him, he wants to be cool, and he wants to be bettered somehow, and right here before him are a team of really sweet, cool people who are willing to help -all except Andrew, of course. Jesse likes the idea of wearing the right clothes, being into the right things, and knowing how to get the boy's he wants, well, only one boy. Emma has two chasing her right now, two great guys, good-looking guys, sweet guys, so she must know her stuff. That's the most appealing part, but he can't say yes to Emma and shun the others.
"I wanna do it," Jesse admits, nodding hard as a way of finalising his decision. Andrew looks as though he's torn between screaming and crying, Jesse looks at him, smiling apologetically.
"Sweet!" Well, at least Armie's perked up. "As soon as we get back I'm going through my DVD collection to pick out the best ones." He begins to ask Jesse about his preferences -Action? Comedy? Drama? Horror? Do you like Jim Carrey?- when Justin cries, arms flailing above his head:
"Everyone get out your money, I'm taking Jesse shopping!" -and Jesse thought that he was the gay one- "Next time you have a free Saturday, let me know, yeah?"
Andrew rounds on Justin, "Jesse and I tutor one another on Saturday's."
"Well, whenever you've got a free day, then," Justin says.
"Oh Justin, you should get Jesse a blazer like yours, oh my God, you should do his hair too!"
Jesse hears a low growl from somewhere on his left side as Emma begins to speak animatedly about hair gel and flat-irons when Andrew leans over to Jesse, to his ear, and says, "Come with me a sec."
Jesse frowns a little, but gets up anyway. Andrew holds out a hand for him to hold as he jumps down from the truck, it's only a one foot drop, but Jesse smiles gratefully for the help despite himself. Josh calls out, he wants to know where they're going, but Jesse doesn't know, and Andrew simply chooses not to answer. He takes hold of Jesse's wrist and leads him around to the back of the restaurant. Jesse's shoes get muddy as they walk over a flower bed that doesn't actually contain any flowers. Jesse likes his shoes, so usually, this would bother him, but right now? All he can focus on is Andrew's hand encircling his wrist, and the throb of his pulse as it beats into Andrew's fingers.
"Okay," Andrew says, he maneuvers Jesse in such a way that he ends up positioned between Andrew's body and the wall of the building. "You really shouldn't have said yes to them. You'll end up dressed like Justin, obsessed with boring things like TV shows and video games like Armie and Joe, they'll mess up all that you are! You're perfectly fine like this."
Jesse frowns, taken aback, "Andrew, they're your friends, how can you say that about them?"
"They are my friends, and I like being a part of this group because we're all so different in our own special ways, but if you let them give you this 'personality overhaul' as you like to call it, you'll just end up as one big amalgamation of the six of us, and all of our conventional interests. You've brought something new to the table. Our Jesse, who collects maps and is really passionate about history, who's sometimes really funny without even trying to be, with his lovely curls and his big blue eyes. You're the guy who tries his hardest to like everyone, and wears," Andrew looks down at Jesse's feet, at his New Balance sneakers, "really colourful shoes."
The corners of Jesse's lips curl up into a small smile. Andrew has gone and noticed all of the things that Jesse doesn't really like about himself -all the things he's tried to repress- and put a good spin on them, a really good spin, and for the moment, quite possibly for the first time ever, Jesse kind of likes himself too, but he likes Andrew even more for making him feel that way. He really likes Andrew, a lot. If he were seven, Jesse would say that he 'like likes' him. His heart flutters happily, looking up at Andrew with glassy eyes as he continues on with his speech.
"All of those things you want us to teach you about aren't the things that make each of us unique, they're the things that make us the same as everybody else. Joe likes the same video games as everyone else, and Armie like the same TV shows as everybody else, and Justin likes the same clothes as everybody else. Seriously, GQ is like his bible. Oh, and even me, I have the music taste of someone who's trying his hardest not to be into the same music as everybody else. You'll end up all conventional and molded, and you won't be," Andrew closes his eyes. "You won't be special any more." He shakes his head quickly. "No, you'll still be special, just not as special."
"You think I'm special?" Jesse whispers, smiling, incredulous, glowing.
"I really do," Andrew lets out one low, breathy laugh and runs a hand over his face. "Jesse, would go back and say no, please?"
"No."
"That's great, but I'd prefer it if you said it to their faces."
Jesse's voice is barely above the level of his previous whisper, he's refusing to look up. "I'm saying no to you, Andrew."
Oh God, this is awkward, and tense, and Jesse can't bring himself to say it aloud, but, he can't help but think the words, "You'll be glad I did it afterwards." Because it's true, it must be. Andrew likes to baby Jesse, he's doing it right now for crying out loud! For six weeks, since the very moment they'd met, Andrew had been all:
'Jesse, you'd better wear a jacket out or you'll get cold.'
'Jesse, make sure you blow on that before you eat it because it might burn your mouth.'
'Jesse you look tired, what time did you get to bed last night?'
'Jesse, you've stopped smiling for all of a nanosecond who or what has upset you? Because I am going to kill them.'
Okay, so that last one hasn't actually been said, but Jesse can imagine it being said, he wouldn't put that past Andrew for a second, and Jesse knows that Andrew will never like him in that way, if he continues to see him like this. Like a little lost boy who needs to be protected and shielded from everything. Jesse doesn't want Andrew to see him in that way. Jesse doesn't want to be cute, he doesn't want to be adorable, he wants to be sexy, and attractive, and hell, he wants to be hot. It's never occurred to Jesse until now, but the thought of Andrew getting all flustered just from looking at him, or the sound of his voice or the touch of his skin is pretty damn exciting.
Basically, Jesse wants Andrew to react to him in the same way that he himself reacts to Andrew.
Jesse isn't entirely sure of Andrew's sexual orientation, it's never been discussed, but all the same, Jesse wants Andrew to want him, want him until it aches, until it's desperate, until Andrew gets all anxious because he can't decide on what he'd do to Jesse first; kiss him, cuddle with him, lick him all over, bite him... fuck him. Jesse's sure of the fact that Andrew will never want him in that way whilst he's like this, in his crumpled jeans and comfy hoodies that leave everything to the imagination.
Emma is right, they won't be changing him, he'll still be unintentionally funny, he won't let Justin buy him any new shoes, he'll still like his old maps and history books, but he'll like lots of other stuff too. He'll still be Jesse.
Then, Andrew huffs audibly, breaking the silence and Jesse's train of thought. "You're really set on this, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"And nothing I can say will make you change your mind?"
"Nope."
Andrew rolls his eyes, tilts his head, and without warning, hooks his arm around the back of Jesse's neck for the second time that night. Andrew pulls him inwards, Jesse's face presses into Andrew's chest, into the fabric of his shirt, where Jesse can smell the fading scent of some flowery fabric softener that Andrew's mom probably sent to him. Then, Andrew's lips are on the top of his head, separated from his scalp by those stupid curls that Jesse hates so much. Andrew isn't kissing Jesse, his lips are just... there. Jesse can feel the warmth of his breath and the soft skin in the crook of Andrew's elbow against the nape of his neck. He tries his best to suppress the shiver that's threatening to run down to the very base of his spine.
"You have no idea what you've just got yourself into, you really don't," Andrew murmurs. He pauses for a moment, Jesse can hear Andrew's heartbeat in one ear, and the loud chatter of the guys in the parking lot in the other. Andrew continues. "As for my part, I'm gonna make you one hell of a mix CD.
~
Part Three
Part: Two
Word Count: 9,316
Previous Parts: Prologue | Part One
~
Jesse has been sat by the lake, swatting the bugs away, and waiting for Andrew for twenty minutes now. He hasn't turned up yet. Though, in no way is this a new development, Andrew has been late to every tutoring session he and Jesse have had for the past five weeks or so. Any normal person would just go down to the agreed meeting place half an hour later than planned so that they'd arrive just as Andrew did. Jesse, however, has an infallible sort of faith in Andrew, thinking that maybe, this time, he'll show up when agreed.
It's the second week of October, it's not cold at all, despite the approaching Fall, but Jesse decided earlier this morning to wear a light zip-up hoodie anyway, because, you know, 'just in case'. This week is math week -Andrew and Jesse had decided that the first and third Saturdays of the month would be dedicated to history, whilst the second and fourth would be dedicated to math.
When Andrew does turn up, precisely thirty-four minutes late, Jesse's relief is almost tangible in the air. He can't see Andrew's face, as he's carrying the seven text books he procured from the library a couple of weeks ago, an A4 note pad, a pack of ball-point pens, a calculator, a geometry set, and a bag of -probably Armie's- Skittles.
"Jesse, my wise and noble teacher. I'm ready to have some more knowledge inserted into me!"
"Well, that's the plan."
Andrew sits across from Jesse on the grass, and begins to lay his stuff out, he's wearing a pair of Aviator sunglasses, and a khaki button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jesse figures that over these past few weeks, he and Andrew have built up a strong enough rapport to allow for playful banter. "My God, Andrew, you look like a vice cop. All you're missing is the mustache."
"The look I was actually aiming for was in fact that of Maverick from Top Gun -minus the awesome jacket, which I, unfortunately, couldn't get hold of- but vice cop works too," Andrew shrugs, smiling.
"If you're Maverick, then who does that make me?"
"Goose?"
"I've only seen the movie once, but I'm pretty sure Goose dies."
"He does. I'd say you could be Iceman, but -my curly-haired friend- you're not an arsehole. Besides, Goose was Maverick's wingman," Andrew throws his hands into the air. "They were the greatest friends the sky has ever seen! We would totally work that!"
Jesse returns Andrew's smile, slapping his thigh, "I'll be Goose then."
"Good. Now, before we begin," Andrew holds his hands out flat, palms down. "We're eating these Skittles."
"Uh, Why?"
"Because I only got up an hour ago as I was up late last night drinking with Emma, I'm a little tired, and I'm in need of a sugar boost." Jesse's surprised that he didn't work this out earlier, as Andrew's hair is looking not dissimilar to an exploded mattress, but it works for him. Andrew tears the packet open and begins to arrange the Skittles on top of one of his books, separating them into colours. "We must eat them in the correct order. Green. Yellow. Orange. Red. Purple."
Jesse chuckles at the fact that Andrew has just as many oddly obsessive quirks as he himself does, an eyebrow raised. "What happens if we don't eat them in that order?"
"The world ends. Now. Eat."
Jesse takes the previous mention of Emma as a cue to ask the question that has been plaguing him ever since his first history class at the beginning of the semester. "Andrew, does, um, is Emma a, you know... a drug dealer?"
"What? No!" Andrew splutters. "What in God's name gave you that idea?"
"Oh, it was just I heard some girls talking a few weeks back," Jesse backtracks as quickly as he can. "I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, I know, but they said Emma could 'get anything' and that they've 'bought' from her before."
Andrew shakes his head. "She doesn't sell drugs, she sells alcohol."
"What?"
"Okay, here's the deal," Andrew starts working on the yellow pile. "Emma desperately wants to work on Broadway. She asked her parents if she could come here because the performing arts programme is incredible. The problem? Mr. and Mrs. Stone couldn't afford the tuition fees. So, Emma said she'd get a job whilst she's here, and help pay for as much as she can."
Jesse nods to encourage the story telling on. He can see himself in the lenses of Andrew's glasses. So he doesn't have to look at a pair of distorted reflections of himself any longer, Jesse glances over at the lake, watching the ducks as Andrew continues.
"Emma did get a job at first, working in this vintage clothing store in the city centre, but she could only work weekends and the pay was terrible, so she quit. On the way back to school, she stopped by this little grocery to buy some comfort food or whatever, and the guy behind the counter offered her a bottle of vodka. So she bought it, you know, because why the hell not? A few days later she went back to try it again. Maybe the guy thought she was twenty-one because it was dark out when she first came in, or maybe he was just an idiot. But the second time, there was a different person behind the counter, an older guy, and he willingly sold her alcohol too."
"So she figured, okay, this place is more than a little run down, and they just needed the cash, so by the looks of it, they'd sell whiskey to a six year old if it brought in some money. Emma decided that there'd be no point in being able to buy all those drinks if she can't do anything with them -she's not going to drink it all herself- so she decided to sell it here, for twice the amount that the store charges."
"Hasn't she ever got caught?" Jesse asks, turning back to Andrew.
"That's the beauty of it!" Andrew grins. "Emma is the only one who can get away with it, because the Head Prefect last year had a crush on her. Here, if you see any rule breaking, you tell a prefect, who tells Head Prefect, whom -if they think it's worth the time- will take it to a senior member of staff. If anyone else tried to do what Emma does, they'd get busted, but she never has. This year, she hit the jackpot. Justin's Head Prefect. He's a good friend of hers, so he told the other prefects to let her off if anyone rats on her. She can't be touched, and she can make anything up to $500 a month."
Jesse chews thoughtfully on a mouthful of orange Skittles. "Okay, well that's better than being a drug dealer, and I understand why she's doing it. Though, haven't any of you thought that maybe Justin has a crush on her, too?"
"Well, there are rumours. Justin's started taking dance classes, and everyone's been saying it's just so he can get close to Emma, because she takes them too. I mean, why would a guy like Justin take dance lessons?"
"Okay, I think he likes her," Jesse grins, then his face drops almost comically. "Oh shit, what about Joe?"
"I know," Andrew swallows, licking his lips (Jesse notices that his tongue has gone a little red from the candy.) "I've only been here for a year, and you even less, but you know as well as I do that Joe has been practically in love with her since freshman year, so he's not too happy at the moment. Have you seen him around Justin? He's more than a little hostile."
"Well, I haven't seen them in the same room yet."
"Hmm, well sometimes Joe is very open with his dislike, and sometimes he's more passive aggressive. Either way, Justin doesn't notice, or he just thinks that Joe's kidding." Andrew grins brightly, making Jesse's chest tighten for the briefest of moments. "You've got to love Justin, though, he sees the good in everyone, that guy."
"Yeah, I know."
Andrew has the last six Skittles -all purple- sat in the palm of his hand, he reaches out towards Jesse before saying, "Here, you have these ones. Open up!"
"I can feed myself, thank you," Jesse says, holding his hands out to take the Skittles from Andrew, but he's smiling.
Andrew holds his hand up and out of the way of Jesse's. "No, you can't. I've seen you in the cafeteria, and you always end up with more food on your shirt than in you do in your actual mouth. Come on, now."
Jesse rolls his eyes, but parts his lips obediently so that Andrew can tip the candy, gently, into his mouth. It's the absolute ghost of a touch, but Jesse feels Andrew's pinkie graze his lower lip, and it tingles slightly.
As Jesse chews, Andrew smiles softly at him. "Let's get down to the numbers."
***
Following three hours of listening to Andrew talk about inequalities, the sine rule, and quadratic equations as if he were explaining all of it to someone that already knew it, Jesse is still completely clueless.
"I don't understand how this is all so easy for you!" Jesse grumbles, pulling at his hair. "Why are we putting x there?"
"To balance the equation," Andrew replies simply. He smiles, looking Jesse in the eye with enough intensity and friendliness that strangely, it makes Jesse feel uncomfortable, in a good way, though, if that's possible.
"I still don't get it," Jesse replies quietly, almost breathlessly.
Andrew removes his sunglasses, and places them gently onto Jesse's face. "Listen, Goose, why don't we go back to yours and Joe's, and you can explain some of this Civil Rights stuff to me?"
"Really?" Jesse sighs with relief in response to Andrew's nod, smiling too. He gets to his feet, helping Andrew with his books. "I genuinely began to fear that my head may explode from all of those numbers."
Andrew and Jesse set off towards the boys dorms. "Math is easy, it's all about visualisation. The way I do it? I just picture the numbers in my head and move them around until what I see seems correct."
"That's the problem," Jesse replies. "There's too much stuff going through my head right now for that sort of thing to work."
***
Once he and Andrew have made it back to his dorm, Jesse opens the door to find Armie laid on Joe's bed reading a copy of Sports Illustrated, somehow watching an episode of How I Met Your Mother at the same time -Oh no, it isn't just Scrubs, Armie enjoys nearly all of the sitcoms that are aired, including reruns.
"Hey Ship Sinker!"
"Where's Joe?" Jesse asks abruptly.
"Studying with Josh. Apparently I was being too noisy so they kicked me out. Is that Bambi behind you?"
"Andrew? Yeah it is."
"Yes!" Andrew calls from behind Jesse, "and Bambi's incredibly frail limbs are going snap if he doesn't sit and put these books down some time soon, so can I come in please!?"
“Oh God, sorry!” Jesse steps aside to allow Andrew through the door.
"Hey Armie!" Andrew calls as he waddles in, face hidden behind books.
"Hey. Oh, and did you steal Josh's good mug, by the way?"
"No, I wouldn't steal Josh's good mug, I know he won't drink coffee out of anything else. So why would I do that to him?" From behind his books, Andrew turns to Jesse and winks playfully.
From what Jesse can see, Armie doesn't seem all that convinced, and Jesse doesn't blame him. "Who else would have taken it?"
"I don't know, do I?" Andrew replies. "He's probably lost it, it'll turn up."
"Fine, whatever. Oh, and please, Bambi,” Armie rolls his eyes, “call me Baking Soda Boy, we've discussed this. I create these nicknames for a reason, you know, they need to be used."
Andrew drops his stuff onto the floor and takes a seat on Jesse's bed. "But that's a bit of a mouthful, can I not just shorten it?"
"To?"
"B.S. Boy?"
Armie, clearly annoyed, slaps his magazine down onto his lap. "B.S. Boy? Are you kidding me? People'll think that means Bullshit Boy."
Andrew shrugs with one shoulder. "You do talk bullshit, sometimes."
"When?!" Armie cries, sitting up. "Give me a specific example."
Andrew smirks. "Well, there was that time when you said that you could do a push-up with sat Joe on your back."
"I can do that, Billy will tell you."
Jesse remains standing in the corner of the room, playing with his hands. "All of these nicknames are confusing me," he says quietly. Though, neither of the other two seem to have heard him.
"Be that as it may, I still I refuse to believe it until I see it," Andrew sing-songs, laying down on Jesse's bed, arms tucked behind his head.
"Fine!" Armie stands, violently flinging his magazine towards Andrew and missing him by a slim margin. "I'll go get Mozzarella now, and Billy, and Josh, and Emma. I want as many witnesses as possible."
"Still no nickname for Emma? Nor Josh? I think you're beginning to lose your touch," Andrew grins evilly, eyes sparkling somehow. "Bullshit Boy."
Armie has already began to walk towards to door, but once Andrew has spoken, he looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, and says "Fuck you" before walking out.
"Maybe later, baby!" Andrew cries following the slam of the door, laughing to himself.
"What was all that about?" Jesse asks, untying his hoodie from around his waist, removing Andrew's sunglasses and returning them to their owner.
"I just like winding him up," Andrew admits, sliding his sunglasses on as if to say deal with it. "He's so highly strung, it's hilarious, plus him and Josh are always picking on Justin, I know it‘s not serious, but I feel as though it‘s my duty to keep things even."
Jesse sits down at Andrew’s feet. “By stealing their candy and their 'good mugs'?”
“Yes.” Andrew grins, and then he rolls his head to the left to look at the shelf on the wall besides Jesse’s bed, he removes his sunglasses once more. “Wow, you have an awful lot of books.”
Currently, they’re arranged by colour, but sometimes Jesse likes to arrange them by author, or alphabetically by title, or chronologically by the date they were published, but it’s true, Jesse does have a lot of books, all of their spines creased and concave from repetitive reading and Jesse’s too tight grip.
“Oh, those aren’t all of them,” Jesse says, smiling a little at Andrew’s shocked expression. “The rest are at home, I’ve brought, I don’t know, maybe ten percent of my entire collection with me, just my favourites.”
Andrew sits up slowly, not making eye-contact. “I have maybe nine books, ten at a push, all math text books.”
“No?” Now it’s Jesse’s turn to be shocked.
“Yeah, I’ve never read an entire, you know, novel outside of English class. I never had time growing up with all the work I had to do -Justin said he told you about that. I didn't get a bedtime story as a child, I got a bedtime word problem, besides, I wouldn’t know where to start, what to read, which authors are good. I have no idea.”
“Would you like to borrow one of mine?” Jesse asks quietly. Hopefully.
“Could I? Would that be okay?” Andrew shifts onto his knees, proving to Jesse -using his eyes alone- that it is entirely possible for the colour brown to sparkle and shine. Jesse nods, Andrew smiles, speaking at a volume just above a whisper. “Pick one for me. Your absolute, number one favourite.”
Jesse lifts his hand to run a finger along the spines, he stops near the end of the shelf, and pulls out a once white -now greying- paperback. “On The Road,” he states simply. “Jack Kerouac. This is the one. I want you to read this one.”
“I’ve heard of this!” Andrew smiles happily. He moves to take the book from Jesse, the latter holds on a little longer than necessary, hoping that maybe Andrew will touch his hand, and that maybe that tingle from before will come back. “Thank you, I’ll start reading it tonight. Oh, this is kind of exciting, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Jesse smiles, eyes soft as he watches Andrew place the novel between two particularly heavy text books. “Why are you doing that?”
Andrew is still gazing down at the books. “To keep it flat, I don’t want to ruin it, bend the pages or anything like that. It’s special to you," Andrew looks up, that little boy's grin etched onto his face, "so I really want to look after it properly."
With that, Jesse's heart swells to breaking point, and he's not quite sure of what to do with that. This is the first time that he's come across a person outside of his own family that genuinely cares, not just about him, but about his interests and getting to know him in general. Joe just likes having Jesse around, likes having someone to listen as he rambles on about video games and Emma and baseball, but Andrew, he only ever speaks about himself when Jesse asks a question, and the rest of the time? He's asking Jesse questions.
Andrew already knows about Jesse's desire to become a college professor. Andrew knows that Jesse isn't doing it to make his father proud, but simply because he genuinely wants to teach (Andrew also knows that Jesse gets freaked out by small children, so lecturing in a college to older students would make Jesse feel a lot more comfortable.) Jesse smiles behind closed lips and resists to the urge to lean forward and snuggle into Andrew's chest.
It is at this point that Armie arrives back at the dorm with Justin, Josh and Joe -Emma is at a singing lesson- and, much to Andrew's chagrin, performs seventeen successful push-ups with Joe sat, in the lotus position, on his back.
***
Andrew's British-isms are truly weird. Instead of saying things like "Holy shit!" or "Fucking hell!", he mixes the two together and yells "Shitting hell!" whenever something unexpected or shocking occurrs.
Example one: Jesse has been outlining the events of The Chicago Freedom Movement, explaining it's successes and failures, when Andrew cries, "Shitting hell! Gibraltar is a real place? What is this fuckery?"
"Were you paying attention to anything I just said?" Jesse asks, trying his hardest to replace a fond smile with a glower.
Andrew glances up at the wall beside Jesse's bed, above his book shelf, he's stuck up two maps, a world map and one of the US. "Well... no. I was admiring your maps, actually, when I saw that Gibraltar was on there."
"Damn, the English educational system must be terrible if you didn't know Gibraltar was real. Or maybe it's just you," Armie deadpans. He, Joe, Josh, and Justin are sat on the floor playing Halo 3 on the Xbox whilst Jesse attempts to force some historical knowledge into Andrew's head.
"Sorry!" Andrew lifts his hands in mock-surrender. "I thought it was a made up place. You know, like Narnia, or Terabithia, or Hogwarts."
Joe, eyes glued to the TV, yells, "Hogwarts is real, you fucking muggle!"
"Is it really?" Justin asks quietly, looking about the room for some kind of confirmation.
Josh shakes his head, laughing. "Oh my fucking God."
***
Jesse is getting mad now, and, as hypocritical as it would seem (given his trouble with math down at the lake) he truly cannot understand how Andrew isn't absorbing anything he's been saying. "Okay, for the last time, who coined the term 'Black Power'?"
"Malcolm X?"
"No! Come on, Andrew, I told you five minutes ago," Jesse gestures wildly about the air, his frustration so evident that Andrew sits back a little to avoid getting hit in the face. "It was Stokely Carmichael!"
"Who's that?"
"You're killing me here, you really, truly are."
"Calm. Down." Andrew takes Jesse's face in his hands, and despite their warmth, and their softness, and that lovely tingle of skin on skin, Jesse frowns hard. Oh, and yes, he's pouting like a five year old.
"Hey. Don't make that face, you'll get wrinkles," Andrew giggles, then sighs, "I'm sorry, but I guess it wasn't a good idea to do all of this studying on a Saturday. I mean, come on, it's seven o'clock, and it's the weekend and I just want to relax. I'm sorry, Jesse."
"We can reschedule," Jesse concedes, face warm.
"Vice City tournament!" Joe screams completely out of left field, fists held high above his head. Andrew's hands drop from Jesse's face, and Jesse is all too aware of their absence. Jesse wants to punch Joe now, best friend or no best friend, because he's ruined the moment with his video games and his yelling and now Andrew's hands are gone, and his face isn't inches away any more.
Andrew slips off of the bed to join the other four on the carpet. "Vice City tournament!"
Yep, Jesse definitely wants to punch Joe, that is, until, Andrew reaches out, grips the knee of Jesse's jeans and pulls him down onto the floor beside him. Jesse lands with a bump, but that doesn't matter because Andrew throws an arm around his shoulders, and now Jesse's yelling too despite himself, "Vice City tournament!"
"Yeeeees!" Armie cries manically at the top of his lungs, students four floors up can probably hear him now.
With all these high-fives and bro-ish hand-slaps and shoulder punches, Jesse feels as though he's joined some weird fraternity.
"Wait. Vice City as in Grand Theft Auto? That's a single player game, how could you possibly convert that into a tournament?" Jesse asks, confused.
"Simple," Josh explains happily. "Each of us gets fifteen minutes to go on a crazed rampage, your score depends on the crimes you commit. The person with the most points, wins."
Armie nods hard, looking to Justin. "Billy, get the rules."
Justin gets up and moves over to Joe's bed-side table, he produces a legal pad from the top drawer, and begins to read. "Two points for every car stolen. Two for every person you run over with the car. Three points if you steal a motorcycle. Five points for every person kill with a weapon. Five points if you get your hands on a Bazooka without using a cheat. If Michael Jackson's Billie Jean plays on your car stereo, ten points."
Armie nods courteously. "Everyone gets to choose a rule, so -Ship-Sinker- what's yours gonna be?"
"I really have to choose one?"
"Of course," all five chorus.
"Okay," Jesse begins to chew on his thumb, thinking hard. Andrew's looking down at him, lips stretched into a smile. "Alright. Ten points if you get your hands on a helicopter."
"Ugh that sucks," Justin says with clear disappointment in his tone. "But it'll do."
***
An hour later, the six guys reach the consensus that they are all hungry, and that the tournament has reached its end. All, except Armie, agree on that latter point. The six are walking, in a synchronised row, hands in pockets, across The Square towards the cafeteria -like a white, suburban, and way-less-cool version of Wu Tang Clan.
Armie explains, with fervor, just how Justin had supposedly cheated. "You heard the intro to Billie Jean just as you got out to grab that Bazooka, so you got back in the damn car just so you should get the ten points. Obvious cheating. I'd have come in third if it wasn't for that."
"Who cares?" Andrew asks, throwing his hands up. "Joe won regardless."
"Hell yeah I did. I'm pretty handy with a virtual Uzi, you know."
Which he is. Joe had won with a staggering 102 points. Justin came in second with -which he found all too hilarious- 69 points. Josh, 62. Armie, 60. Andrew, 57. Jesse came in sixth with 48 points, but it was his first time playing, after all, and he just couldn't bring himself -as hard as he may have tried- to drive on the pavement.
They make it to the cafeteria door, and Joe is literally about to open it when it flies out towards them, and Emma -a scarlet-haired blur- pushes through the group, yelling, "We're going to Burger King, come on!"
Not one of them follows, but instead, they watch her leave with bewildered looks on their faces, occasionally glancing at one another, searching for some sort of explanation.
A few seconds pass before she turns around, and from half way across The Square, motions for them to follow. "You coming or what?"
Joe and Justin are of course all too happy to go after her, Josh and Armie shrug and start walking, so Andrew and Jesse follow. Once they get over to Emma, Joe asks her what's going on.
"Gladys is off sick, so they've got Rosemary on dinner duty, and we all know that she's best left to slicing tomatoes for the salad bar. She can't cook at all. Saturday is spaghetti and meatballs night, and hell, I was looking forward to it, but since Gladys, the culinary god, is off, Rosemary's made meatloaf. Meatloaf? Can you believe it? And what's more, it's stringy, and chewy and just no. So I figured, since I just sold two bottles of gin for a large profit, I will buy my best friends a burger."
"Sweet!" Justin cries. "I'll drive!"
Justin runs up to the West building to fetch his keys, and upon his return, he leads the other six out to the parking lot out front of the school, and over to his car, a shockingly black, shiny Range Rover Sport. Jesse gapes.
Justin unlocks it using the fob on his key chain, and everyone makes a move to clamber inside except for Jesse, Andrew and Emma.
"Wait, wait, wait," Emma says, frowning. "Where is Jesse going to sit? This thing only has five seats?"
"Oh shit," Justin says, his door is still open. "I didn't even think of that."
"Not to worry," Andrew replies excitedly as he begins to run down to the other end of the parking lot. "He can ride with me!"
Jesse turns to Emma, evidently confused. "What's he talking about?"
No one decides to offer Jesse an answer. Instead, they avoid making eye contact with him whilst clearly attempting to keep laughter at bay. This is probably the only thing Jesse dislikes about being part of this group, the fact that he's completely out of the loop when it comes to inside jokes.
Then a sound, a sound shockingly similar to that of a group of angry bees, echoes from somewhere in the distance, gradually getting louder. The other five can no longer contain their laughter as Andrew slowly approaches riding a black Vespa that wouldn't look out of place in a cosmopolitan city center somewhere in Western Europe. Holding only one handle bar, he uses his spare hand keep a black helmet tucked beneath his armpit. His grin is threatening to split his cheeks as he yells "TADA!"
Jesse is laughing, partly amused and partly shocked, shaking his head. "Oh my God this it brilli- Oh no," his face falls, all traces of laughter leave his expression, "you want... you want me to get on the back of that?"
"Yes!" Armie yells excitedly from the back of the Range Rover. Jesse cannot see Armie himself, but Justin's car is shaking from the extent of his laughter.
"No," Jesse says flatly.
Andrew rolls his eyes. "Come on, Goose, come join Sheila and Maverick in the Dangerzone!"
"Who's Sheila?"
"My bike," Andrew pats a wing-mirror affectionately.
"That's so manly. " Jesse shakes his head vehemently, "but no, I'm not getting on the back of that. Besides, why does it have to be me?"
"You're the smallest, so you'll fit on the back much easier," Justin explains, leaning out of his window.
"Emma is smaller than me!"
"Oh but Justin and I had a bet going on last year's Superbowl, and because I won, I now have eternal front seat dibs, so it has to be you, I'm afraid," Emma rubs Jesse's arm consolingly, biting her lip.
"You know what? Fine!" Jesse huffs, throwing his hands into the air. "Andrew, my life is now in your hands, but I swear, if I get so much as a scratch on me, you're paying my medical bills."
"Oooh, feisty!" Andrew grins manically, inclining his head. "You'd go to the hospital for a scratch?"
Jesse tries his best not to get distracted by how undeniably adorable Andrew looks on his stupid scooter wearing his silly sunglasses and an entirely not stupid, but very beautiful, smile. "You can pay for a band-aid! Whatever. Have you got a helmet for me?"
"Uh... no, but you can take this one, I don't have to wear one."
"Andrew Garfield!" Emma cries.
"No!" Josh adds from somewhere in the depths of the Range Rover.
"Hardcore!" Justin yells, pumping his fist in the air. When Emma glares at him, he pulls his head back into the window and rolls it up. Jesse can vaguely picture Joe sat in the back seat, face full of glee.
"No, no, no," Jesse waves his hands out in front of himself. "No, Andrew. You are not riding that without a helmet."
"All that matters to me right now is keeping you safe," Andrew says happily, waving a hand as if to swat everyone's worry away. "I'll be fine."
"No you won't," Emma replies, fists balled up tight at her sides. "Listen we'll just have to stick you both in the trunk of Justin's car."
"Uh...no," Justin says, rolling down his window once more. "Overloading a car? That's illegal."
Emma speaks through gritted teeth. "You were all for Andrew not wearing a helmet. He's supposed to be your room mate, your friend."
"But that's got nothing to do with me, I'm not getting points on my license for a burger."
"Ugh! Fine, I'll drive us there." She steps forward to rap on the windows of the car. "Come on guys, get out, haul ass!"
None of them are willing to face the wrath of Emma Stone, so the guys exit the car quickly, Justin locks up. Andrew pushes his Vespa forwards and into a spare parking space, and packs his helmet into the storage compartment beneath its seat. The six guys follow Emma across the lot. Jesse walks a little faster to catch up with her. "You have a car too?" He asks, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jeans.
"Yeah, well, a truck. That one there." She points to a pale blue pick-up, patches of rust showing where the paint has fallen away. "Best I can afford. I know, I bet you're thinking 'Oh she makes loads of money from the booze', but no, most of that goes on tuition fees, so there's not much left over afterwards, these burgers are just a one off treat since Gladys is off. I don't drive unless I absolutely have to, that thing drinks gas like nobody's business."
They all stop once they reach the truck, and Emma turns to tell them that since only two of them can sit in the cab with her, three of them will have to sit in the back, on the bed. Apparently, she has no problem with breaking the law herself. Her argument is, "Haven't you seen the Beverly Hill-Billies? It'll be fine."
Jesse's not worried about legality, just the potential danger.
"I call shotgun!" Joe yells gleefully.
"Oh, no you don't," Emma replies, Joe is visibly crestfallen. "I think Jesse should take one of the seats, seeing as he's new."
Justin cries, "He's been here for a month!"
Emma ignores him. "The rest of you can, I don't know, play rock paper scissors or something for the other one."
The five remaining guys play two games. Joe is knocked out in the first round, his paper beaten by the scissors of the other four. During the second game, Andrew claims the other seat up front, beating Justin, Josh and Armie's rocks with his strategic use of paper. Jesse grins happily, watching as the four losers grumble and climb into the back.
Jesse ends up in the middle seat, squished between Emma and Andrew. Once Andrew has adjusted the lap-belt to Jesse's size, and has ensured that he's safely buckled in, Emma sets off.
"Say, Emma," Andrew says after she's been driving for a couple of minutes. "Do you still have my Red Hot Chili Peppers album in here?"
"Oh yeah! It's in the glove compartment. Sorry I haven't given it back yet, I've been listening to it a lot lately. Put it in if you want."
Andrew does just that. As he leans across Jesse's lap to slide the CD into the stereo, he asks. "You like the Chili's, Jesse? They're one of my favourites."
"Well, I've heard of them, but they're not really my sort of thing." That's a lie. Jesse hasn't heard of them, he just doesn't want Andrew to judge.
The first track begins to play, and whilst Jesse doesn't know the name of the song, he knows, from the guitar riff alone, that he's heard the song before, on the radio or something. He knows a few of the words, he's surprised to realise. Emma and Andrew are singing along rather loudly, the guys in the back, too. Loud enough to cover the voice on the track.
"Standing in line to see the show tonight, and there's a light on. Heavy glow..."
They continue to sing, Jesse sits awkwardly between them, singing the words below his breath, a little self-conscious. Then the rumbling bass-line shoots out of the speakers, and the song speeds up. Emma and Andrew go mad. Emma scrunches up her face, lifting a fist from the steering wheel to pump in the air; Andrew leans forward to drum rapidly on the dashboard, turning his head at regular intervals to yell the lyrics at Emma whilst Jesse looks on, eyes wide and slightly bemused.
"Steak knife!... Card shark!... Con job!... Boot cut!"
Jesse glances over his shoulder and out of the window in the back. Justin is sat, body-popping as if he were listening to a hip-hop song. Joe and Armie are dancing like Dads at a wedding whilst Josh covers his eyes, shaking his head. They appear to be having the time of their lives, from what Jesse can see of their faces, which are occasionally illuminated yellow by the street-lights passing over their heads.
Jesse beams, feeling happier than he ever has in his whole life. His entire body is trembling, like a child who can't wait a moment longer to open their presents on Christmas morning. It feels as though he's anticipating the greatest thing in the world, but it's already happening. He now understands that this is what it must feel like to be part of a real group of friends. Dancing and driving and singing along to what, right now, feels like the greatest song ever written.
Emma is surely speeding, but Jesse doesn't care any more. Through the streets of Poughkeepsie they fly, different coloured lights from store-fronts flashing through the windshield, turning Andrew's ecstatic face green, red, blue, orange, purple.
Then the chorus kicks in, and almost out of nowhere, Andrew's arm hooks itself around Jesse's neck, pulling him in. Still dancing in their seats, Emma and Andrew's shoulders shove Jesse from side to side, and whilst Jesse doesn't join in on that side of things, he now feels confident enough to sing along properly, turning to look at Andrew's almost-too excited face and screaming the words with everyone else, seeing as the chorus is the only part that he knows.
"By the way, I tried to say I'd be there, waiting for!..."
Jesse spends the rest of the journey with his head on Andrew's jiggling shoulder, watching as Emma looks up into the rear-view mirror every now and then, laughing hysterically as Justin attempts, but ultimately fails, to do the worm on the bed of the truck whilst it's still in motion.
Jesse thinks briefly about asking Andrew if he himself can borrow this CD once Emma is done with it, as it has provided the soundtrack to what has surely been the greatest few minutes of his life.
***
Whilst they could have easily eaten inside the restaurant itself, Emma has decided, instead, to pull up to the drive through. After ordering a cheeseburger for herself, a Chicken Royale for Andrew (whose plan to only eat salad has gone out of the window), a bag of fourteen chicken bites for Joe, a whopper each for Josh and Justin, two whoppers for Armie -who claims that he needs the calories "for rowing"- and a bag of large fries for the vegetarian Jesse, the seven sit alone in the parking lot. In the back of the truck, they eat beneath the yellow and red glow of the Burger King logo, sipping Cokes.
Whilst they'd been ordering their food, they'd managed to get through a couple more tracks on Andrew's CD. He tells Jesse that the track they're currently listening to is called Dosed. It's a lot slower and calmer than the one they'd been listening to during the drive. Jesse likes this one a lot, though not as much as the first.
"No, I'm telling you, this is Joe's, Jesse's, Andrew's and -hopefully- Justin's final year. We should get suitably wasted at some point, am I right? You guys can come over to mine since I've got a single, and I can get the booze in and it'll be brilliant!" Emma often speaks loudly -animatedly- though in no way is it annoying.
"I'm all for that plan!" Joe cries happily, chewing on his straw.
"No way, we couldn't do that," Armie replies adamantly, though clearly interested in Emma's proposal. "We couldn't drink in the dorms."
"We so could, Justin'll be there. Head Prefect, remember?" She flings an arm around his shoulders. Justin grins. Joe glowers.
A sharp gust of wind blows, causing goosebumps to pop up on Jesse's neck and thick strands of Emma's hair to blow across her face. Jesse pulls his hood up to keep the chill off his neck, glad for the warm fries in his hands. Almost instantly, Andrew begins to tug playfully on one of Jesse's hoodie strings, and no matter how many times Jesse tries to swat him away, that hand always comes back.
"Yeah, okay," Armie continues, "all I'm saying is that the teachers are a lot stricter with the girls, you of all people should know that. They're always randomly popping up on your side of The Square. If one just so happened to knock on your door, not only would we get busted for drinking, you'd be screwed, having six guys in your dorm, in a girls dorm."
"Okay!" Emma throws up her hands. "I'll drive you guys off campus, we can go camping in the woods or something, make a weekend of it. What do you guys think?"
"Like I said, I'm down for that," Joe grins, Justin nods in agreement, and Josh gives a thumbs up, seeing as he can't speak through his mouthful of food. Andrew and Jesse don't answer as they are too busy play fighting in the corner of the truck, Andrew's trying to get Jesse in some kind of headlock whilst the latter tries in vain to keep his fries and ketchup from spilling everywhere, both giggling like children. Not one of the other five pay an ounce of attention to them.
"I'm absolutely fine with going off campus, but we'll have to work out whe- Ahh! Would you fuckers calm down!?"
Jesse's fries soar in an arc through the air, one of them hitting Joe in the face. Jesse is now sprawled across Armie's lap, flustered and mildly disorientated as a result of having been shoved by Andrew. The latter dives, taking hold of Jesse's hoodie cords, pulling them hard and making Jesse's hood close up tight around his face. He finishes the deed off by tying the cords in a haphazard bow. Jesse doesn't move.
"Are you okay?" Andrew giggles, a bit late.
"Andrew, what the fuck are you doing?" Emma chortles.
"Look!" Andrew can barely speak for laughing. "It's Kenny from South Park!"
Jesse is still, for some strange reason, laid out across Armie's thighs. His eyes are all that can be seen of his face. In being pushed, he'd accidentally dropped his pot of ketchup down his front. It now looks as though he's been stabbed in the chest.
Imitating, almost perfectly, the shrill voice of Stan Marsh, Justin screams. "Oh, my God! You killed Kenny!"
To which Emma adds, "You bastard!"
This is the first time, as far back as Jesse can remember, that he's had a genuine laughing fit, his eyes scrunch up as he struggles to pull his hood off, cheeks red, hurting from smiling too much. All of them see the funny side, except Armie, who's smeared himself with mustard from his burger as a result of having had a young jewish boy thrown forcibly onto him.
"This shirt cost me forty dollars!" he cries.
Jesse is still giggling even after Armie manages to push him up and over towards the other end of the truck, Andrew steadies him by placing a hand on either side of his waist. Josh passes Armie and Jesse a handful of napkins each. The pair sit, trying to wipe condiments from their clothing whilst Andrew tries to get Jesse's hood back onto his head.
"Why on earth would you spend forty dollars on a shirt?," Jesse asks Armie between occasional follow up chuckles.
Armie doesn't get a chance to answer, because Justin cries through a mouthful of hamburger, "It's all about fashion, man!" Emma looks grossed out, and Joe glares at him, the loathing all too evident on his face.
"Well, I'm not sure if you guys have noticed, but I know absolutely nothing about fashion," Jesse is looking down, folding up his ketchup smeared napkins and looking around for somewhere to put them.
"You should get Justin to take you out shopping if you want to revamp your wardrobe," Emma offers. Jesse looks up to see Justin grin and Joe scoff. Emma continues, "He's great with clothes."
"That's actually a really good idea!" Andrew says happily. "It was your birthday a few weeks ago and none of us got you anything except Joe, though I wouldn't really count him 'letting you win' on Tekken as a gift. I know! We could all pitch in like twenty dollars, and maybe Justin can take you shopping!" He claps happily, bouncing in his seat.
"Yeah, that is a good idea, here Jess, take this," Josh places the remnants of his burger down and begins to root through his jeans pocket, producing a twenty dollar bill.
"Oh no, don't do that, really it's fine," Jesse says quickly, blushing. "Put your money away. Really, even if I did have cool new clothes, I'd still be a loser on the inside."
"You are not a loser, Jesse!" Andrew says. Hard. Firm. Jesse looks at him, Andrew eyes are flat and brown with determination. "You're brilliant, okay?"
Jesse swallows, feeling the blood rush in his cheeks. "Well, okay, but I dress weird, and I don't watch TV; I know nothing about sports like a guy is supposed to; I'm gay but I've never had a boyfriend; my music taste is really odd, and I suck at video games. I came to this school because I figured that I'd find out how to act like a teenager here, but I haven't. I'm still a child, and not a cool one at that," Jesse rambles, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "I need, like, a personality overhaul."
"We could so do that! Oh, my god, yes!" Emma cries, the heads of all six guys swing around to look at her as she sits up quickly. "Those things are all areas that each of us is an expert in. Justin can take you out shopping for new clothes; Armie can sit down with you and tell you which movies and TV shows are good; Josh can take you to a sports game and explain all that kind of stuff; Joe's the greatest gamer alive; I can teach you how to get boys to like you; and Andrew can tell you about all the good music that's out there. Oh, this is going to be so great. Please say yes, Jesse. Say you'll let us do this for you!"
Jesse shakes his head wearily. "Oh Emma, I don't know."
Andrew leans forward to place himself right into Jesse's eye-line, blocking Emma from view. "Say no."
"It's his decision, man. Let Jess decide for himself," Josh says from the other end of the truck, smiling brightly. "Personally, I think it's a great idea, if he wants to do it, that is. Basketball season's just started up, so I'll take you to a game if you want, Jess."
"But he doesn't need us to do that for him!" Andrew argues, gesticulating wildly, his cheeks reddening with frustration. "Getting him new clothes is fine, everyone needs clothes, but making him watch movies and shows that he doesn't like in the first place, and teaching him how to act around boys? That's just wrong. It'll be like we're grooming a puppy for a dog show, or a child for a beauty pageant. It'll be like a scene from Cruel Intentions or She's All That. It's wrong."
"But we won't be getting anything out of it like those guys in those movies did, we won't be winning any bets, or having sex with our creepy step-sisters," Emma shudders visibly. "We're just helping out our friend, we'll just be improving on the greatness we already have before us, right guys? If there's something Jesse doesn't like or doesn't want to do, then he doesn't have to accept it."
Jesse doesn't utter it aloud, but what Emma had just said really does sound appealing to him, he wants to be cool, and he wants to be bettered somehow, and right here before him are a team of really sweet, cool people who are willing to help -all except Andrew, of course. Jesse likes the idea of wearing the right clothes, being into the right things, and knowing how to get the boy's he wants, well, only one boy. Emma has two chasing her right now, two great guys, good-looking guys, sweet guys, so she must know her stuff. That's the most appealing part, but he can't say yes to Emma and shun the others.
"I wanna do it," Jesse admits, nodding hard as a way of finalising his decision. Andrew looks as though he's torn between screaming and crying, Jesse looks at him, smiling apologetically.
"Sweet!" Well, at least Armie's perked up. "As soon as we get back I'm going through my DVD collection to pick out the best ones." He begins to ask Jesse about his preferences -Action? Comedy? Drama? Horror? Do you like Jim Carrey?- when Justin cries, arms flailing above his head:
"Everyone get out your money, I'm taking Jesse shopping!" -and Jesse thought that he was the gay one- "Next time you have a free Saturday, let me know, yeah?"
Andrew rounds on Justin, "Jesse and I tutor one another on Saturday's."
"Well, whenever you've got a free day, then," Justin says.
"Oh Justin, you should get Jesse a blazer like yours, oh my God, you should do his hair too!"
Jesse hears a low growl from somewhere on his left side as Emma begins to speak animatedly about hair gel and flat-irons when Andrew leans over to Jesse, to his ear, and says, "Come with me a sec."
Jesse frowns a little, but gets up anyway. Andrew holds out a hand for him to hold as he jumps down from the truck, it's only a one foot drop, but Jesse smiles gratefully for the help despite himself. Josh calls out, he wants to know where they're going, but Jesse doesn't know, and Andrew simply chooses not to answer. He takes hold of Jesse's wrist and leads him around to the back of the restaurant. Jesse's shoes get muddy as they walk over a flower bed that doesn't actually contain any flowers. Jesse likes his shoes, so usually, this would bother him, but right now? All he can focus on is Andrew's hand encircling his wrist, and the throb of his pulse as it beats into Andrew's fingers.
"Okay," Andrew says, he maneuvers Jesse in such a way that he ends up positioned between Andrew's body and the wall of the building. "You really shouldn't have said yes to them. You'll end up dressed like Justin, obsessed with boring things like TV shows and video games like Armie and Joe, they'll mess up all that you are! You're perfectly fine like this."
Jesse frowns, taken aback, "Andrew, they're your friends, how can you say that about them?"
"They are my friends, and I like being a part of this group because we're all so different in our own special ways, but if you let them give you this 'personality overhaul' as you like to call it, you'll just end up as one big amalgamation of the six of us, and all of our conventional interests. You've brought something new to the table. Our Jesse, who collects maps and is really passionate about history, who's sometimes really funny without even trying to be, with his lovely curls and his big blue eyes. You're the guy who tries his hardest to like everyone, and wears," Andrew looks down at Jesse's feet, at his New Balance sneakers, "really colourful shoes."
The corners of Jesse's lips curl up into a small smile. Andrew has gone and noticed all of the things that Jesse doesn't really like about himself -all the things he's tried to repress- and put a good spin on them, a really good spin, and for the moment, quite possibly for the first time ever, Jesse kind of likes himself too, but he likes Andrew even more for making him feel that way. He really likes Andrew, a lot. If he were seven, Jesse would say that he 'like likes' him. His heart flutters happily, looking up at Andrew with glassy eyes as he continues on with his speech.
"All of those things you want us to teach you about aren't the things that make each of us unique, they're the things that make us the same as everybody else. Joe likes the same video games as everyone else, and Armie like the same TV shows as everybody else, and Justin likes the same clothes as everybody else. Seriously, GQ is like his bible. Oh, and even me, I have the music taste of someone who's trying his hardest not to be into the same music as everybody else. You'll end up all conventional and molded, and you won't be," Andrew closes his eyes. "You won't be special any more." He shakes his head quickly. "No, you'll still be special, just not as special."
"You think I'm special?" Jesse whispers, smiling, incredulous, glowing.
"I really do," Andrew lets out one low, breathy laugh and runs a hand over his face. "Jesse, would go back and say no, please?"
"No."
"That's great, but I'd prefer it if you said it to their faces."
Jesse's voice is barely above the level of his previous whisper, he's refusing to look up. "I'm saying no to you, Andrew."
Oh God, this is awkward, and tense, and Jesse can't bring himself to say it aloud, but, he can't help but think the words, "You'll be glad I did it afterwards." Because it's true, it must be. Andrew likes to baby Jesse, he's doing it right now for crying out loud! For six weeks, since the very moment they'd met, Andrew had been all:
'Jesse, you'd better wear a jacket out or you'll get cold.'
'Jesse, make sure you blow on that before you eat it because it might burn your mouth.'
'Jesse you look tired, what time did you get to bed last night?'
'Jesse, you've stopped smiling for all of a nanosecond who or what has upset you? Because I am going to kill them.'
Okay, so that last one hasn't actually been said, but Jesse can imagine it being said, he wouldn't put that past Andrew for a second, and Jesse knows that Andrew will never like him in that way, if he continues to see him like this. Like a little lost boy who needs to be protected and shielded from everything. Jesse doesn't want Andrew to see him in that way. Jesse doesn't want to be cute, he doesn't want to be adorable, he wants to be sexy, and attractive, and hell, he wants to be hot. It's never occurred to Jesse until now, but the thought of Andrew getting all flustered just from looking at him, or the sound of his voice or the touch of his skin is pretty damn exciting.
Basically, Jesse wants Andrew to react to him in the same way that he himself reacts to Andrew.
Jesse isn't entirely sure of Andrew's sexual orientation, it's never been discussed, but all the same, Jesse wants Andrew to want him, want him until it aches, until it's desperate, until Andrew gets all anxious because he can't decide on what he'd do to Jesse first; kiss him, cuddle with him, lick him all over, bite him... fuck him. Jesse's sure of the fact that Andrew will never want him in that way whilst he's like this, in his crumpled jeans and comfy hoodies that leave everything to the imagination.
Emma is right, they won't be changing him, he'll still be unintentionally funny, he won't let Justin buy him any new shoes, he'll still like his old maps and history books, but he'll like lots of other stuff too. He'll still be Jesse.
Then, Andrew huffs audibly, breaking the silence and Jesse's train of thought. "You're really set on this, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"And nothing I can say will make you change your mind?"
"Nope."
Andrew rolls his eyes, tilts his head, and without warning, hooks his arm around the back of Jesse's neck for the second time that night. Andrew pulls him inwards, Jesse's face presses into Andrew's chest, into the fabric of his shirt, where Jesse can smell the fading scent of some flowery fabric softener that Andrew's mom probably sent to him. Then, Andrew's lips are on the top of his head, separated from his scalp by those stupid curls that Jesse hates so much. Andrew isn't kissing Jesse, his lips are just... there. Jesse can feel the warmth of his breath and the soft skin in the crook of Andrew's elbow against the nape of his neck. He tries his best to suppress the shiver that's threatening to run down to the very base of his spine.
"You have no idea what you've just got yourself into, you really don't," Andrew murmurs. He pauses for a moment, Jesse can hear Andrew's heartbeat in one ear, and the loud chatter of the guys in the parking lot in the other. Andrew continues. "As for my part, I'm gonna make you one hell of a mix CD.
~
Part Three