All characters are at least 18 years old.
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I wasn't used to being out alone, without Alain. After a lot of protesting, he'd left me at school for the afternoon. I'd told him not to tell anybody, and his only stipulation was if there was an emergency. Now all I had to do was wait.
I wasn't very good at making friends. Mom said it was because they were jealous of our money. It didn't make sense to me. The first thing I would've done was make friends with the rich girl so she could buy us a bunch of stuff, I thought, and I grinned to myself. And of course, dad had to ruin that idea with one of his stupid nuggets of wisdom.
"Real friends can't be bought."
He was right, of course. Didn't make it any less annoying. There were some days where I felt like just buying some friends, at least for the day. Even if they were fake. But then Jordan had given me some insight of his own. For some reason, his advice always felt more welcome than dad's. More down-to-earth.
"Sure, you can have all these fake friends around you, and you know they're fake. But after a while you forget they're fake. You forget that they don't care about you, and when they betray you then you still get hurt. That kind of pain doesn't seem worth it, don't you think?"
Most days I felt like Jordan knew more about things than dad. And he understood me.
And speak of the devil, Jordan slipped into the bench across the table from me, grinning widely. "Been waiting long?" he asked.
"I just got here," I said with a smile, and he looked out the diner window.
"You really managed to ditch Alain?"
I weaved my fingers together and rested my chin on them, batting my eyes sweetly. "Who could resist doing me a favor?"
Jordan laughed and waved me off. "Alright, stop that. We're in public, don't want anybody else to see."
I took him in, a true sight for sore eyes. He was three years older than me, and I swear everything he wore made him look cool. Today he was in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, perfect autumn attire. He kept his hair on the shorter side, and his mom made him comb it up every day.
"It's great that you could come," I commented. "Wish we lived in the same city."
"No kidding," he chuckled. "But then again, maybe it's a good thing. Otherwise... we'd be all over each other 24/7." His voice had dropped to a raspy rumble, and it sent shivers down my spine.
"I don't see a problem with that," I whispered.
He chuckled again but dropped the joke. "Nah, c'mon. It's your last year at this school. You gotta do well or your dad is gonna be pissed."
I rolled my eyes. "When is he not?"
"Fair point. But eh, cut him some slack." He looked outside, gazing into the distance. "There's just some stuff you can't know unless you're older. Things you have to learn for yourself."
"You sure you can't teach me?" I crooned, and he groaned in exasperation.
"Alexandria!"
"Don't call me that," I pouted. "I hate it."
"You never told me why." He leaned forward, waiting for what he expected to be a juicy explanation.
With a sigh, I dropped my hands into my lap. "Dad expects so much from me. He seriously wants me to know
everything.
So he named me after a freaking library."
Jordan tilted his head toward me in friendly chastisement. "Lex, Alexandria is a city."
"Yeah, but dad named me after the
library.
What the hell."
He laughed, throwing his hands up. "Well you are smart. But yeah, it sucks that he has all these expectations for you. So glad my folks aren't as hardcore as yours."
"Ugh, you got off lucky," I grumbled.
He grinned. "Anyway, we should get out of here. We're sitting here and haven't ordered anything, and the waitress is starting to give me the evil eye." He stood and held his hand out to me. "C'mon. I wanna show you something."