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It takes everything in me not to react to that knowledge. My mind scrambles to think up a plausible explanation, one that will protect my heart and stop me from spiraling before I have the chance to talk to James.
Ah, that’s it. Maybe he just hasn’t had the chance to talk to them yet. That’s probably what it is. It takes some of the sting out of the hurt, and I briefly brush the back of James’s hair with my fingertips, needing to touch him to reassure myself.
But then Mara asks me jokingly, “Isn’t it past your bedtime, too?” It’s not really a joke, though. It’s another dig at my age.
I look to James to see if he’ll say anything about her rude question, but I’m not sure he’s listening as he studies his cards. I decide not to say anything, choosing to ignore her to keep the peace and settle on the couch in the living room with my history textbook and eat my dinner.
I can’t concentrate on anything, though, since I can see them at the table from my position, and I pick at my food as my stomach sinks like a rock. And because I can’t concentrate, I don’t miss the obvious ways Mara keeps flirting with James, the little touches she brushes against his arm, and the way she keeps scooting her chair closer to him, fawning over each play.
Red-hot jealousy burns in my veins, and my head pounds with a headache forming behind my eyes. I can’t stand seeing another woman all over him, but I’m the tiniest bit mollified by the way James seems completely oblivious to it.
Part of me wonders why they aren’t together when it’s obvious to probably everyone except James that Mara is interested in him. She’s seriously gorgeous, and they have so much in common. What if one day he suddenly looks at her, sees how she looks at him, how she flirts and touches him, and decides he wants to give her a shot? See if they click as more than just friends.
It would break me.
When Martin drains the last of his beer and places his hands on the table like he’s going to stand to get another, I hop up from the couch.
“Sit, sit. I’ll get it.” I take his empty bottle and hand him a new one, then ask the table, “Anyone else need anything while I’m up?”
I hand Isaiah his drink after he politely asks for a different IPA, and I lean over James with my hand on his shoulder to place his drink in front of him.
James pats my hand and smiles. “Thank you, angel.”
Mara scoffs. “Seriously? He calls you ‘angel’? What’s next? Are you going to start calling her ‘sweetie’, Isaiah?” she asks sarcastically as her eyes flit around the table. “How about ‘honey’, Martin?”
“What’s the problem with James calling me ‘angel’?” I ask with my hand on my hip when I straighten, though I keep my other on James’s shoulder.
She snorts in an ugly way. “Just saying, you’ll never catch me running around trying to please the menfolk as they call me patronizing pet names.”
“What the hell, Mara?” She’s finally got James’s attention, though I don’t think it’s the kind she wanted, what with how he’s gaping at her.
“She’s just being nice,” Martin says with a slightly chiding tone. “Nothing wrong with that.” He tips his bottle at me. “I, for one, appreciate it.”
“Seriously. This is the best game night we’ve had, thanks to Shayla,” Isaiah adds. His brows dip, and he grumbles, “Some people could stand to be a little nicer.”
Mara rolls her eyes and decides to double down. “Ugh, men. Always taken in by a pretty face and big tits, even if they’re dumb as rocks. Not that I’m saying you’re dumb or anything, angel…though you did get knocked up in high school.”
She’s really stuck on that fact, isn’t she? It’s jarring how many people treat me like crap just because I’m a teen mom. They act like having a baby at a young age makes me dirty, like I have a contagious disease when in reality, Lainey is my greatest, most precious gift.
James growls, “That is enough—”
Mara is on a roll now and cuts James off, and he lets her. “Oh, come on, James. You’re better than this.” She pats his arm and, with faux concern, says to me, “For your sake, cupcake, I hope you figure out how to get men to pay attention to you without throwing your tits around and being their little servant girl when you grow up.” She barks out a laugh like she’s just made the funniest joke and looks around at the guys, perhaps expecting them to agree with her, but the kitchen has gone dead silent.
My pulse pounds behind my eyes with impending tears. “Fuck you,” I grit out as I choke on her insults. As much as I try to hold them back, I can’t stop the tears from falling, and an ugly smirk tugs at the corner of her lip with satisfaction that she’s made me cry.
James is up and out of his seat so fast that his chair falls backward on the tiled floor, and I jump back. I’ve seen him pissed off on my behalf before, but this is a whole new level of rage. I wait for him to put Mara in her place, but it’s not her he’s looking at with his jaw clenched, grinding his teeth. It’s me, and there’s not a hint of the usual kindness and adoration in his eyes or the protectiveness to his stance after I just cursed at one of his best friends.
I roll and bite my lips and drop my eyes to the floor, feeling like I’m suffocating. I’m saved from seeing or hearing what James will do or say next when I hear Grayson crying from the nursery. I rush out of the kitchen, discreetly wiping my tears away, though it’s useless since they’ve already seen them fall. Goes to show no matter how thick my skin may be since I got pregnant with Lainey, I’m not immune to peoples’ hostility like I wish I were.
Thankfully, Lainey is somehow still sound asleep, and I pick Grayson up from his crib, humming to him so he’ll calm. He has a full diaper, which is probably what woke him, though I’m sure the booming crash of James’s chair didn’t help matters. I make quick work of changing him, and even though he just nursed an hour and a half ago, he roots at my chest, so I settle on the rocking chair with him.
I can just barely make out a heated conversation through the closed door, and I feel even worse. I cry silently, the tears coming faster and faster as I think over every barb Mara hurled at me.
All I wanted was to make a good first impression, what with all the food I helped cook and this silly outfit I put on. I thought it was pretty at the time, but now I think the pink and white make me look even younger than I am.
Is that why James didn’t tell any of them that I’m more than just his hired babysitter? Is he embarrassed by my age? That I’m still in high school? That I’m a teen mom?
His friends are as attractive as he is, and from what he’s told me about them, they’re each just as successful with their own thriving careers. Does he think they will look down on him for being with me? That I’m nothing but a pretty face and big tits? Because that’s exactly what I am, right? At least, that’s how I feel right now compared to them—compared to Mara.
