11. Jealousy

It had only taken Jimmy three days of solid moping and smoking himself out of feeling anything with cheap weed to get over the worst of it. Sure, they'd said that 'them' didn't have to not be a thing, but Pete also said that they would go back to being friends, and Jimmy knew an easy let-down when he got one. It was as good as over.

By the time he felt like showing up to classes again, the wound was half-healed and he could look at Pete straight. Figuratively speaking, at least. He still had the feeling of being choked from inside, but could keep a lid on it as he slid in the row behind Pete, who was barely a second before his neck was 180 in Jimmy's face.

"Are you all right?" he shot so fast Jimmy could've missed it. "You've been gone for-"

"I was just doin' stuff," he replied easily, not thinking about it like he'd set the whole event in concrete. "Why, miss me?" he baited, then decided it was too close, pushing back in his chair and pointing his eyes to the ceiling.

"N-, uh, good one," he replied shakily, not enough eye contact between them to ever share a look.

"Did I miss much?" he asked, not really bothered with the answer, but feeling it was a thing that'd carry conversation on long enough for things not to get awkward.

"Not really," Pete admitted, so he tipped back further in his chair, quieting down as the lesson was called into order. If Jimmy wasn't totally out of his mind, which he could be, but Pete almost seemed... guilty. Like maybe he held himself to blame for Jimmy disappearing for three days of school. Which, to be fair, he was, so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing for him to get a dose of the guilts too, given what Jimmy had been stewing in.

He soon remembered why he used to skip lessons all the time, because a two-day school week was nothing to be sniffed at. The weekend arrived, damp after a few days rain in relief from the heat, but with sunshine again by the morning. On his way out he passed by Pete, who if he wasn't much mistaken, was watching for him.

"Hey Jimmy," he called out as Jimmy passed, and he almost tripped over the rug.

"Oh, hey," he said awkwardly.

"Going somewhere?" Pete probed obviously, and Jimmy had to wonder why his interest piqued now of all times. Or was that the rule of the chase?

"I was heading out for some errands," he answered. "Well, not errands really. I was goin' shopping."

"Shopping?" Pete queried, it sounding about as strange as it was.

"Sure," he replied easily. "My style. Why're you asking?" he said, and then, a dare. "You wanna come?" Pete had shot their romance in the foot, but that didn't mean they couldn't hang out as friends. That'd been half the point of his speech.

"Shopping?" he queried. "For what?"

"All kinds of stuff," he answered. "It's fun." He could see the decision in Pete's face. On one hand he probably still wanted to be friends, on another he didn't want to be 'leading Jimmy on' or whatever his overactive mind might think of, but then, tipping the balance, he was clearly curious. Down the decisions fell.

"All right," he said at last.

"Go get your allowance and meet me out front," Jimmy decreed, pushing a hand back through his hair. With some time to study the new cut, he'd decided he liked it, and not just because it was easy to wash and stayed the fuck out of his face. Zoe had done him a solid on that, not to mention letting him have her shoulder to be miserable on for a few hours without asking any questions beyond 'he says we're better as friends'. She was reliable like that.

Pete shuffled out a few minutes later and then off they went, bussing into town. Pete followed Jimmy all the way into the New Coventry-Blue Skies border where a warehouse had open doors for once.

"This is where you go shopping?" Pete inquired sceptically, and Jimmy just smirked and shouldered his way in. Inside tables and rails filled up the whole floorspace, crammed with clothes that combined old man, dog and liquid smoke all in equal proportions. "Is this-?"

"Lemme guess, you've never been thrifting," Jimmy interluded, offering him a smirk. "I said it was my style." Two bucks a piece was his style. Ten for shoes or coats. Rest was free game. He marched over to the first table and found a pair of big plastic-framed sunglasses, slipping them on and sliding the bridge up his nose. He was sick of wincing in the sun, so they'd do. He flipped them up onto his head and started rummaging.

Pete stood in the doorway awkwardly for a good few minutes before he did a damn thing, but then started to meekly follow in Jimmy's wake, seemingly afraid of actually touching the clothes. Jimmy, naturally, was in his element. He'd already found a sleeveless shirt with a Donnie Darko bunny wearing shutter-shades on, and was trying on a fringed leather vest that he knew would look perfect with it. And if anyone laughed at him (again) he'd throw them into a trashcan.

"Do you get a lot of stuff at places like this?" Pete inquired as he shuffled up near Jimmy's side, one shoulder accumulating a stack of used clothes that were soon to become his clothes.

"Sure, I guess so," he remarked. Not until the Townies had shown him this place , of course, but since he'd been introduced a good proportion of his kit had come out of the heaps of clothes that were stolen, died in or dumped in trash cans by the preps' servants at the end of the season. He'd found far too much fucking Aquaberry in these bins for his tastes. "Why?"

"It just... uh, makes sense," he answered, and Jimmy threw a pink t-shirt at him.

"Your colour," he gibed, and Pete held it up. It'd be a dress on him, but that didn't mean it couldn't be worn.

"Thanks," Pete said sarcastically, dumping the shirt back and flipping through things like he was going to get bitten. "Is this really-"

"Jimmy?" a new voice chimed out, and Jimmy looked up to see Duncan staring at him from over a table, crooked grin plastered on. "How you doin' bro?"

"Fancy seein' you here," Jimmy replied, clapping hands with him across the table in a casual shake that townies favoured.

"You getting' on all right? How'd that bud-" Duncan started, and Jimmy hissed sharply out one corner of his mouth to shut him up. About him perhaps bleeding some of his sore heart to Duncan, and that the remedy had been about forty bucks worth of weed. Pete didn't need to know either of those things.

"I'm good," he answered sunnily, leaning over the table. "Got any finds?"

"Check it," Duncan proclaimed, holding up a pair of plaid pants. Glancing around, half of the townie crew were scattered around the tables, but Duncan had been the one to end up across the table – and to actually say something, given they were marginally closer than the rest, bar Zoe.

"Fucker," Jimmy hissed. "I think those are mine." They looked exactly like a pair he'd bought from The Edge like a chump. And he hadn't seen them in a while – in fact, he remembered leaving them in his hideout in Blue Skies.

"Finders keepers, Jimmy," Duncan baited, and Jimmy swiped across the table like he was gonna snatch them out of Duncan's hands, who yoinked them back with a laugh.

"Fine," he conceded. "Your ass always did look better in them." Smaller, he meant. He was always scared of splitting the crack of those things straight open if he bent over.

"You know it," Duncan retorted cheekily, an easy flirt in his manner. It was the way he talked to most people, but Jimmy could feel Pete's silence behind him. He sure as hell wasn't looking at the clothes any more. Fine, Jimmy decided just a little vindictively. If they were going to only be friends, that meant no complaints about who he flirted with.

"Try this one on," Jimmy announced, throwing a super-scoop vest at him, and Duncan was exactly the person to have no issues about pulling off his t-shirt and slipping into the top. Jimmy couldn't have asked for a move convenient set-up. Or hot-bodied guy to rub it in.

"Why does it hang so low?" Duncan questioned tersely, the 'neck' of his new vest hanging noticeably lower than his pecs.

"Put those tits away," Jimmy goaded, and Duncan snorted, pulling it off and throwing it half-way down the table. He decided not to bother putting his original shirt on while he continued browsing, which made sense given the weather and his tried-and-tested sizing method; Jimmy made a few careful turns to see if Pete was watching, though they didn't merit much in the way of results. He had to remind himself that Pete had said, seemingly seriously, that he wasn't gay, so half-naked guys milling around scratching their mohawks til they went all flat wasn't supposed to do anything for him. Jimmy wondered if he'd ever done anything for him either. He stuck his head back into the bundles of clothing and carried on, trying not to think about it.

"Hey Jimmy," it was Duncan's voice, not Pete's, which he lied to himself about being disappointed by. Pete had gone conspicuously quiet, which could unfortunately mean almost anything. Duncan was holding up a pair of leather pants. "You know you want them."

"Sure," he snorted. "Something that some dude's ass has been sweating in for ten years, hand'em over." Duncan, being a twat, threw them at him anyway, and Jimmy ducked at just the wrong moment for the pants to go sailing into Pete who was a few steps behind him. He almost fell over, not because he was that flimsy but from the sheer shock of it. "Jesus, watch it!" Jimmy found himself snapping as he pulled the pants off Pete who seemed dazed more than anything else.

"Sorry," Duncan offered uninterestedly, peering at Pete like he hadn't realised that he was even here. "Uh... have we met?"

"Pete," Jimmy filled in before Pete awkward-silenced his way into it. "A friend," he found himself adding out of spite.

"Hi," Pete murmured uncomfortably, and Jimmy was considering if he should've invited Pete at all, given how unmotivated he seemed. Perhaps he just hadn't expected it to be like this, or what Jimmy's friends outside of school were like, even if Zoe had once been one. Or he was being bothered by something else, but Jimmy daren't think about that or he'd just let himself down.

"W'ssup," Duncan replied, rummaging back into the piles. They got almost all the way down the row before something came up. "Hey... lil' dude," Duncan called out like he'd probably forgotten Pete's name the moment Jimmy said it. He was holding a pair of jeans. "Bet you'd get into these." He threw them at Pete who caught them. They were either acid wash or had just been rinsed about a million times, and for whatever reason motivated him, Pete looked at the lable.

"These are for girls," he said sourly.

"So?" Duncan replied. "I'd wear'em if they'd fit. Feel how soft they are." Jimmy reached out and pawed at them. Point to being washed half a thousand times or so.

"Well shit," he remarked "They do feel good."

"Right?" Duncan retorted cheerfully. "Imagine that on your butt." Typical Duncan. Jimmy rolled his eyes, but apparently no one saw.

"Quit making fun of me," Pete berated, tossing the pants back, and Duncan made an utterly bemused face.

"What?" he queried, while Jimmy was putting together the pieces.

"He ain't," he explained to Pete. "They're just pants, who gives a fuck what the label says."

"It says princess," Pete bitched.

"Sooo?" Duncan lauded cheekily. "I'd rock being a princess."

"If you were five sizes smaller," Jimmy baited, and Duncan cocked that broken smile at him. The one he swore dropped a girls panties at ten yards. "Look, you don't like'em, whatever," he dismissed on Pete's behalf. Perhaps he wasn't quite used to the anything-goes rules of places like this.

They carried on shopping until Jimmy had a whole new set of summer clothes that he'd hopefully not die of heat stroke in, including an excellent full-length linen tunic with some kind of psudo-ethnic design stitched on the back. By the time he got to the counter where they counted everything up and paid he'd only spent fifteen bucks, which he considered a successful trip. Flipping his new shades down and strolling back outside with a crappy paper bag full of new-old threads, Duncan was stuffing a collection of shirts and wristbands into a shitty backpack, while Pete followed empty handed.

"What you guys doin' now?" Duncan inquired brightly, and Jimmy shrugged, turning to one side.

"Pete?" he inquired, but Pete hadn't any more ideas than he did.

"I've got an eighth if you wanna-" Duncan started, and Jimmy gave him a jab in the arm. "I mean, if you guys wanna chill for a while," he re-phrased in a less obvious way, but Jimmy suspected Pete knew what he meant.

"I've got some... stuff to do," Pete said before Jimmy could say anything. He wasn't trying to make Pete a third wheel, but he'd sort of slotted himself into the position by merit of not really saying anything, even though Duncan was actually one of the most easygoing and relaxed of the townies. A normal kid who got screwed over.

"It's fine," Jimmy tried to play out, feeling kind of like an asshole. "We're just gonna be-" hanging out, he was going to say, and if Pete was going to weird out over a joint then they didn't have to smoke. Duncan would understand.

"School stuff," Pete excused, shuffling back. "You guys just do, uh, whatever it is you wanna do. I'll seeyalaterJimmy," he blurted all in one, and before Jimmy could counsel him Pete was off like his heels were on fire.

"What's up with him?" Duncan queried.

"He's just like that," Jimmy sighed. Nervous and quick to assume he didn't fit in. Or maybe Jimmy had gotten to him with some of those dumb jokes and messing around with Duncan. Either way, it'd been done now.

"But you're still good, right?" Duncan asked.

"Oh yeah," he confirmed. "Let you smoke alone? Never." Duncan grinned his trademark smirk, gave Jimmy a shove-pat in the shoulder, and they set off for one of the more scenic broken-down cars in Blue Skies for some rest and relaxation. Rolled up and half a joint later, they started chatting again.

"So you over the guy from before?" Duncan commented out of the blue, and Jimmy recalled dishing out some of the specifics when he'd been buying away his heartache last week.

"Eh," he replied. "Don't really know where I am with him any more... I mean, you saw this afternoon."

"Wait?" Duncan said, "the lil' dude from earlier? He's the one?"

"I thought you knew," Jimmy answered, then realised there was no way he would. "He's nice if you get to know him," he found himself legitimizing.

"Hey, whatever," Duncan dismissed easily. Never one to judge. "Is that why it was weird?"

"Was it weird?" Jimmy pounced on. "I mean, you thought it was weird?"

"I dunno," Duncan said with a shrug. "He's a bit quiet."

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed awkwardly, nabbing the joint back and taking a drag. He'd stop worrying about it soon enough. Overthinking it wasn't going to get him anywhere, that much had been established. "Quiet cause he's like that, or quiet cause he's fucked off at me?" For making things more awkward than they had to be.

"Why?" Duncan retorted. "Didn't he dump you?"

"He didn't dump me," Jimmy snapped. "We never even... whatever. He just said there was no need to be 'exclusive' or whatever. Said we're better off as friends."

"I heard that one before," Duncan concurred worldly. "Well then, enjoy it," he advised. "Know what'll make you feel better?" He took the joint back and relit it. "If you like, you can jerk me off."

"Fuck off," Jimmy scoffed, shoving him and taking the joint back. "You always say that."

"And you have no idea how many handies I've gotten because of it," he replied. "You know there's a guy in Old Bullworth Vale who'll give you money to jerk you off?" The way he phrased it was only one of the many disturbing things about that statement.

"I don't even wanna know," Jimmy said coldly. "Anyway, it's probably me just being... whatever. Bet he's off doin' homework or something."

"Take your mind off it," Duncan advised. "Worrying the shit never got anyone anywhere." He sucked the last out of a joint and leaned back, his purchases for a pillow. Jimmy reminded himself he still had friends and a life – in this town of all places.

Things would look up. He just had to let it go.