Chapter 5: Too Close For Comfort

I felt my patience wearing thin as his voice sounded behind me. It was the guy I had been avoiding, and I could already feel my annoyance rising to the surface.

"The last thing I remember, I was calling out for Chandler," I snapped, refusing to turn around and face him.

I heard him chuckle, but it did little to diffuse my irritation. I wasn't in the mood for another argument, and I wasn't going to let him get the best of me this time.

"Chandler's not here, so you'll have to deal with me," he continued, his tone laced with smugness.

I finally spun around to face him, ready to leave the scene. "My parents taught me not to talk to strangers," I shot back, my eyes involuntarily drawn to the tattoos on his arms that were so far beyond my control.

As I looked at him, I noticed that he wasn't wearing the same coat he had on the first time we met. Instead, he wore a plain white shirt that revealed his arms, which were covered in tattoos of different shapes and figures. "Especially to those who like to break the rules," I said, my eyes meeting his burning gaze.

His stare made me feel small and insignificant, despite the fact that I stood just inches away from him. He was taller than me, and his tattoos only added to his intimidating presence.

But instead of being intimidated, he responded with his signature smirk. He looked down briefly before meeting my gaze again, that smirk still playing at the corners of his lips.

"Let me tell you my name so I won't be a stranger anymore," he said.

I was about to walk away and ignore him, but his words stopped me in my tracks. "No thanks," I said dismissively.

He didn't seem deterred by my lack of interest. "I'm Jared," he said, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Did I ask?" I retorted, making it clear that I wasn't going to engage in conversation with him.

"You know, you don't have to be harsh on me all the time. You still owe me an apology, remember?" His nonchalant tone was familiar, reminding me of the day when I accidentally bumped into him and caused him to drop all those cans of spray paint.

I felt my anger rising again as he mentioned the apology I supposedly owed him. "If I met you under any other circumstance, I would gladly apologize but to actually see you destroying a piece of my family's property? It won't make me..."

He cut me off, looking at the wall beside us with a smirk. "Is this how you destroy things nowadays?"

I was confused by his response. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that I did this," he motioned towards the colorful painting on the wall. "And I'm politely asking you if you'd still sue me after this?"

I was stunned. Could he really be the one who turned the vandalized wall into a work of art? It seemed impossible.

"I don't believe you..." I turned to leave the scene, but he stopped me.

"Go ask Chandler, then," he said, challenging me to confirm his claim.

I stepped back, my heart pounding in my chest, as Jared dropped Chandler's name into our already tense conversation.

"Chandler knows about this?" I demanded, my voice edged with anger.

Jared leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms nonchalantly. "How did you think I did this without anyone stopping me?"

My mind reeled at the thought that Chandler, the trusted guardian of my grandfather's house, could have let this happen. I felt a surge of anger towards both of them.

"But don't get mad at Chandler," Jared said, his tone mocking. "You saw what I did here."

I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my temper in check. "You and Chandler would make a great team in jail," I spat out, reaching for my phone to call the authorities.

Jared seemed unfazed by my sudden move, his eyes still fixed on the painting he had created. "You sure 'bout that?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I saw you looked at my work there."

I sighed, my voice lower than before. As much as I hated to admit it, the painting was beautiful and I didn't want it removed from the wall. But the fact that it was created by the same vandal who I had a screaming match with just a few weeks ago had my mind reeling.

"What's your point?" I asked, trying to keep my composure.

Jared's smirk grew wider as he replied, "If you're trying to convince me to pay for this art that you made for my gramps' house... name the price. After that, can you leave and never show up again?"

I heard him snicker from his perch. "But what if the price isn't even worth a penny?" His smirk widened, and I couldn't help but cringe at his words.

Typical. He thought he was so clever, so above it all. Well, I wasn't going to play his game. I'd offered him a deal, and that was that. As far as I was concerned, he could join Chandler in jail.

But then he surprised me with a question.

"I already told you my name, but you haven't told me yours. Is that too much to ask?"

Ha. As if I was going to reveal my identity to him. He might be the so-called artist, but he was still a vandal in my eyes.

I hesitated for a moment before reluctantly spitting out my name. "Alison Jade Jorgensen. But don't call me Alison. Jade will do."

He paused, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

"You're Gerard Jorgensen's daughter?"

I bristled at his tone. "What's it to you?"

He snickered again. "Oh, come on. Your family's practically a household name. Don't act like you're not aware of your father's reputation."

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. I didn't like to think about how people know about my father.

"What's wrong with 'Alison' though? I find it perfectly fine," he said, his arrogance dripping from every word.

"I just don't like it," I snapped. "Now, I've given you what you wanted. It's time for you to go."

"Parents just love to give their kids names they don't agree with, don't they?" he interrupted me, completely disregarding my previous statement.

He spoke with a smug tone, as if he knew better than anyone else.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my annoyance in check.

Despite my efforts, Jared seemed determined to stick around and chat.

"I mean, my mother gave me the name Jared Andrew Thompson, and I've hated the Andrew part since I was ten," he explained with a hint of arrogance.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his self-importance.

As we spoke, I couldn't help but notice that we had the same initials - A.J and J.A.

"Why do we have the same initials?" I blurted out absentmindedly.

"I guess it's just a coincidence," he replied nonchalantly.

I sat in silence, lost in thought. Jared did the same, until he spoke up again.

"Now that we know each other's names, I suppose we're not strangers anymore, huh?" he said with a smug grin.

I blinked a few times to ground myself back into reality.

"What's in there, anyway? I've been curious my whole life to know what could possibly be in that house. I don't understand why that old man and his chick granddaughter always come here," Jared asked.

Despite my annoyance with him, I decided to entertain his question, hoping it would make him leave sooner.

"That 'chick granddaughter' is actually me. This is my grandfather's house... and I'm sorry for yelling at you. But you can't blame me. I practically grew up in this place," I explained, trying to keep my voice level.

Jared raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised. "So, what's in there that's so special?"

I hesitated before answering, not wanting to reveal too much. "Just old family stuff. Nothing that would interest you."

He chuckled. "You never know. I might be into antiques."

I rolled my eyes, already regretting my decision to engage with him.

My head instantly hung low upon remembering my grandfather. The thought of him alone always gives me that glum feeling that just tries to pull me back under the sheets of my bed and to never come out again.

"Yeah, whatever. I haven't seen that old man in months. He on some world tour again?"

My head snapped back up, my face wearing a look of disbelief at his choice of words and sound of voice laced with insensitivity. But

then I realize that he was just unaware of what really happened. I looked down again.

"Heart failure" I breathed out.

Jared's expression softened for a moment, and he seemed to regret his previous words. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, his voice tinged with sympathy.

I nodded slightly, not sure what else to say. We stood there in silence for a few moments, both lost in our own thoughts.

Finally, Jared spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to be insensitive earlier. It's just... I don't really know how to talk about this kind of stuff. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

I raised my head to look at him, surprised by his offer. He may be annoying and arrogant, but maybe there was more to him than I had initially thought.

I didn't bother to respond to Jared's insensitive comment. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and started walking away towards the gate.

"Whatever," I muttered under my breath.

After a few steps, I noticed that Jared wasn't following me. I stopped and turned around to see him standing in the same spot.

Confused, I raised an eyebrow and asked, "What now? You coming or not?"

Jared's face lit up with understanding, and he quickly jogged to catch up with me.

If letting Jared see what's inside was the only way to get rid of him, then so be it. That's when Chandler appeared, strolling in our direction. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Jared and me walking side by side.

But his surprise quickly gave way to a smirk. "Well, well, well. It seems you two have already crossed paths," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I bristled at his mocking tone and shot him a scowl.

I was about to speak up, but Jared moved towards Chandler and gave him a high-five, which he eagerly accepted. They shared a mischievous laugh, leaving me feeling excluded and irritated.

"You guys are something else," I muttered under my breath, only to be met with more laughter from the two boys.

As we walked through the gate, leaving Chandler outside, I couldn't help but think about how easily Jared had shifted his attention and allegiance.

I opened the door and gestured for Jared to come in, revealing the collection of my grandfather's adventure souvenirs that adorned the interior. Vases, sculptures, miniatures, and other pieces were displayed in every nook and cranny, showcasing their majestic beauty.

Jared's eyes widened in subtle excitement at the sight.

"You like art?" I asked him as I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.

"My mom loved it. I guess the skill just grew on me," he responded.

I rolled my eyes in response to his cliched answer.

I decided to indulge Jared's curiosity and let him explore my grandfather's treasures for a few hours, as it wouldn't actually hurt.

However, as I watched him eagerly dart around the room, I began to feel a gnawing sense of unease. My heart sank when he carelessly sprinted towards a delicate vase, a prized possession from my grandfather's travels in China. In horror, I watched as he motioned to poke at it with his index finger. I instantly regretted my decision and wished I had never allowed him inside the house.

*****

I had taken Jared to the second floor, where there are more stuff to see than the lower part of the house when Jared decided to break the deafening silence between us.

"Buying all these stuff and traveling around the world. It must be so fucking good to be really, really, really rich."

Jared comments as we pass by one of the most expensive paintings that hung on the hallway. His foul language causing me to flinch as I walk in front of him.

That painting was actually too expensive, created by one of the most famous artists in the world that my Gramps almost gave everything he had just to purchase.

"I don't know..." I replied, only because I really don't know what else to do.

"You just say that because you're actually rich..."

I rolled my eyes at him again.

Jared brought up the topic of my name again, making me look at him in disbelief. It had been at least an hour since we last talked about it, and I had hoped that he had forgotten.

"What is it really... that made you hate your first name?" he asked as we turned a corner and entered a hallway filled with large vases.

I let out a sigh, feeling slightly annoyed. "Why are we talking about that again?" I asked.

Jared simply replied, "Curious," as he followed me down the hallway.

I hesitated before answering his question, but decided to do so anyway. "My father used to call me by my first name whenever he was mad at me for doing something wrong. Over time, I began to associate my first name with negative feelings, and it just stuck."

I turned to him, curious about his own reasons for hating his name. "What about you? What made you hate 'Andrew' so much?"

As we stroll past the towering vases, Jared chuckles softly and slips his hands into his pockets. My cheeks flush inexplicably at the sight.

"That's messed up," he comments on my earlier revelation. "Me, I just don't think 'Andrew' fits my personality. It's weak and lame. I prefer 'Jared.'"

We come to a halt without realizing it, standing motionless in the middle of the hallway, waiting for the other to speak.

"I used to love admiring these pieces," I continue, gesturing to the art surrounding us. "Each one holds a story, and that's what fascinated me. But now that my Gramps is gone, there's no one to unravel these tales anymore." A somber silence descends between us as Jared listens intently.

"It's been months since I came here with a smile," I said, my voice soft and melancholic. "My Gramps was the reason I even came here in the first place. But now that he's gone, I don't see the point in visiting anymore."

"What about your dad?" Jared asked, surprising me with his question.

"My dad is always away, traveling the world. But he's not doing it for adventure, like Gramps did. He's doing it for money," I said, my voice cracking. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I tried to hold them back.

"It's times like this that I wonder why my dad never became more like Gramps. Why he never had that sense of adventure and wonder," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "And why am I even telling you all of this? I don't even know you," I added, wiping away the tears on my cheek.

Jared simply shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care.

"It's not that I'm interested," he said nonchalantly, which caused me to furrow my brows and stare at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Then why did you ask?" I raised my voice, feeling annoyed by his indifferent behavior.

"I was getting a little bored, that's all... and hey," he walked towards a vase that towered over him, pointing at it in disbelief and looking at me like I had grown another head. "How much did the old guy even spend on this thing?"

My brows furrowed even deeper as I stared back at him.

His attitude was unbelievable.

I had let his vandalism issue slide, but insulting my grandfather was another thing entirely.

"That 'old guy' you're referring to is actually my grandfather and please... get your finger off that thing. No touching." I rolled my eyes at him and continued to walk on the hallway.

He follows right after me with a shrug and says, "Okay, grandma"

I twist my head to glare at him and went back to walking.

At the end of the hallway, we came upon a sculpture of Alexander the Great. Jared abruptly halted and took a seat on one of the built-in benches that lined the walls next to the vases.

Jared clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I can't believe I spent my whole childhood dreaming of breaking in here to see what's inside. But now that I'm finally here, it's not worth the effort," he muttered. He lifted his right foot and rested it on his left knee to fix a tangled shoelace, not bothering to make eye contact with me as he spoke.

Vile and insensitive...

How is he even possible?

My blood boiled at his words, a fury rising inside me. He had crossed a line, taking things too far. I had allowed him to see what my grandfather had worked so hard for, only for him to insult it right in front of me.

"Get out," I snapped, my voice trembling with anger. He looked up at me, his face still unfazed.

"What?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard my words.

I repeated myself, emphasizing each syllable. But before I could finish, we both heard noises coming from downstairs.

"What were you saying?" Jared stood up from the bench, but I quickly motioned for him to be quiet.

"Shhh!"

As the voices grew louder and more distinct, my heart began to race with a sense of urgency. I strained to make out the words, but my mind was consumed with fear and confusion. Suddenly, my worst fears were realized when I recognized the sound of my father's voice. He was here, in my grandfather's house, and I had no idea why.

My mind raced with questions and uncertainty. What was he doing here? Why had he come back early from his trip? And more importantly, how was I going to explain the presence of Jared, a tattooed stranger, in my grandfather's home?

My palms began to sweat as I realized the gravity of the situation. I needed to act fast, but my mind was consumed with fear and panic.

"Are you sure she already left? That's strange. Jade never leaves the house with the lights still on"

My heart started pounding as I strained to hear every word of my father's conversation. What if he found out Jared was here? The thought alone made me break out in a cold sweat. And Chandler's attempt to cover for me could only go so far. I needed to think fast before things got out of hand. The fact that Jared was a complete stranger to my father, with his tattoos and rough appearance, only added to my anxiety. I couldn't risk my father thinking the worst of me. I had to come up with a plan and fast.

My heart pounded in my chest as the sound of the footsteps grew closer, each step louder than the last. I felt a surge of panic as I realized the gravity of the situation. I lunged forward, desperate to get Jared to move, but he remained rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable. Despite my frantic pulling, he refused to budge.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice calm and collected.

I glared at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me right now? My dad is here! If he sees you, it's going to be a disaster!"

I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead as I tried to come up with a plan.

Upon hearing my explanation, he gladly doesn't resist and started to come along. I pulled him with me and we ran to the nearest

place where I know we both could hide.

The closet...

It is where my grandfather used to stock stuff he would need for future purposes... and I remember we cleaned this part of this house and I am sure this could fit both me and Jared.

I quickly grab the knob but I saw that it was too rusty to even budge.

"What?!" I hissed in frustration.

Jared stands before me, looking unperturbed by the situation unfolding before us. His hands are casually shoved in his pockets, while I'm trying my best to hide my mounting panic.

"Why are you so worked up? It's not like I'm doing anything wrong," he says in a level voice, causing me to let out a groan of frustration.

Finally, I manage to turn the rusted knob of the closet door and pull it open. It creaks loudly, making me wince with fear. I usher Jared inside before slipping in after him, taking care to close the door as noiselessly as possible.

With the door secured, I straightened up to fit us both inside the cramped space of the closet. But as I did, I was struck by the realization of just how close Jared and I were. Our faces were inches apart, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. I couldn't help but feel a sheen of sweat on my palms, my nerves jangling as I struggled to focus on our current situation.

My senses were overwhelmed by the scent of dried cigarettes and mint, sending shivers down my spine. Our bodies were pressed so close that I could feel the warmth emanating from Jared's skin, and I couldn't ignore the fact that our hips were touching. It was a new sensation for me, being so intimately close to a boy, let alone a man. I couldn't shake off the nervousness that made my heart race and my palms sweat.

"So why don't you answer my last question?" He suddenly starts.

"Shhh!" I hiss, desperately trying to silence him.

I had been bracing myself for Jared to betray me, to push me back and expose me to my father, perhaps to mock me or just for his own amusement. But to my surprise and relief, he seemed to be doing the exact opposite, staying quiet and still beside me in the cramped darkness of the closet.

"Coming here was already a problem, but inviting you in is even worse. We can't risk my father catching us," I whispered, turning my head to peer through the sliver of light under the door.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw my father and Chandler passing by the door.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp and held my breath, willing myself to stay quiet.

I was drenched in sweat, partly due to the closet's high temperature and partly due to Jared's proximity. His closeness was suffocating me, and I couldn't handle it.

"She's not here. Maybe she already left," my father's voice came from outside, and I felt a small sense of relief wash over me as he seemed to be buying Chandler's lie.

Why couldn't he have believed Chandler earlier when he said I had already left?

Just as I was starting to calm down, Jared's hips brushed against mine, and my eyes widened in shock.

"Stop it!" I hissed at him, but I could see a mischievous smirk on his lips even in the dim light.

As my father's footsteps slowed down outside the closet, my heart pounded in my chest. I held my breath, afraid that even the slightest sound might give us away.

My worst fears were realized when I heard the doorknob turn. I gripped whatever I could find and braced myself for the worst. I shut my eyes tight, expecting to be caught any moment now.