“It wasn’t a fairy tale,” I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t let me finish.
“You left me! Don’t turn around now and pretend that your feelings for me were real.”
“But they were.”
“Then why did you leave me?! Why did you go? Did I really screw up so bad that you had to leave me that way? I gave you everything! Everything! I’m not talking about money or the apartment or any of that bullshit, I don’t care about that. I’m talking about me! I told you things I’d never told anyone. Whatever you think about it, I was opening up to you. I was trying, Jen! For you! You were the only person in the world who could have hurt me, and you did. And now you think you’ve got the right to teach me lessons about how to live. And I’m supposed to buy this shit about you being a friend who’s concerned about me? You think I want to be your friend? That can’t happen, Jen! Shit! You’re driving me crazy. Every time I see you, all I can think about is how for three months, I lost my head over someone who didn’t give a damn about me. Can you even imagine what that feels like? Of course you can’t. Never in your fuckinglife have you fallen in love with someone that way. And yet, here you are, and you think you have a right to show back up in my life just when I was starting to turn the page.”
He got up and walked away from me, leaning on the counter.
“I’m sor—,” I began, then stopped myself, remembering what he’d said, and told him, “I didn’t mean to barge in and mess things up for you. If I’d known…”
“What? If you’d known, then what?” He turned back to me. “You wouldn’t have left? Well, it doesn’t matter, because you did leave. And you knew perfectly well how much I loved you. And I still don’t get it. It wasn’t really because of your asshole ex-boyfriend, was it? Or was it…? You know what? I don’t want to know. I should have treated you like any other girl, I should have hit it and quit it and forgotten about you.”
I didn’t respond, and he smiled maliciously. He knew he’d hit me where it hurt, and now it was time for him to pour salt in the wound. “Because you know that’s what I was thinking when I met you, right?I’ll bang this chick and send her on her way. And Will told me not to because you were his girlfriend’s roommate and she liked you. Naya thought you’d never come back over if we hooked up. So I stopped myself. And you would have fallen for me, Jen, we both know you would have. You were desperate for a little affection.”
He had said that to get to me, and now he was bent over, his face close to mine, trying to see how I’d react. He couldn’t have really felt that way, could he? My eyes filled with tears of rage. He knew I was insecure, and trying to take advantage of that to make me feel bad was cruel. Well, if cruelty was what he wanted, two could play at that game.
“You know what your problem is?” I asked.
“I don’t have a problem.”
“You damn well do. And I’ll tell you what it is. As much as you try to deny it, as much as it fucks you up, you’re still in love with me, Jack Ross.”
He laughed bitterly and came closer to me. I had to back away to keep him from touching me, but I didn’t let him intimidate me. In a whisper, he responded, “And you’re in love with me, too, Jen. I might be a fuckup, but you love me. And you’d be better off going ahead and admitting it.”
“At least I’m not jealous,” I told him. “You think I couldn’t tell when we were playing truth or dare? It was so obvious how pissed off you were, all because I was trying not to kiss you. And when you thought another guy was going to get to kiss me, you nearly lost your mind.”
“Fuck you. Like you’d do any different. You’d cry a river if you thought I was with another chick. You know you were dying to touch me back there. If you didn’t take it any further, it’s because you like hurting me more.”
“That’s a lie. And for your information, I couldn’t be happier to be single.”
He bent so close to me I could feel the heat of his breath. “OK, then. If you’re not into me, then move away.” His nose was touching mine, and I did want to get up and go. I swear I did. But I wanted to stay even more. He grabbed the back of my neck. Not delicately, not affectionately, but like a brute, balling my hair up in his fist. And it turned me on.
“Come on,” he said, “tell me to stop.”
His other hand was resting on my thigh, and his voice was huskier, but restrained. He was tense, angry, and something else, too… Something vague but undeniable shone in his eyes. Longing, perhaps?
I looked at his lips, and he drew in a breath before looking back at mine. Then our eyes met. Each of us was waiting for the other to take the first step: to turn away or to finally close what little distance still lay between us.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” I said. “I could move if I wanted to. You can’t.”
“I could if I felt like it. But I’ll admit one thing. I do have feelings I wish I didn’t have. I still love you. And you don’t deserve it. You never deserved for me to love you, Jennifer. And you never will. I’m an idiot, though, and I’ll bet I could love you for the rest of my life.”
I smiled, trying to hide what those words did to me, pushing further into him and saying, “Leave, then, Jack. If I’m so terrible, just leave.”
He shook his head, sparks of rage in his eyes, and I spoke again: “You said you could do it. So go.”
Then I saw it: a very slight movement backward. Before he could take it any further, I grabbed his T-shirt in both hands. I couldn’t bring myself to pull him in, but I didn’t want to let him go. I felt his hand on the back of my head, and all at once, his mouth was pressing into mine. It wasn’t a tender kiss: the rage and resentment that filled every fiber of his body were palpable in it. But that didn’t stop either of us. I came in for more, and he shoved me backward. I stumbled toward the counter, and I couldn’t tell if we were attacking each other hungrily or trying desperately to get away from each other. My answer came when I opened my mouth to breathe and he dove in and his tongue wrapped around mine…
His hips, his chest were tight against me, his hand moved from my chin to between my thighs. He was brusque, and I wish I could say I didn’t enjoy it, that I didn’t yelp with pleasure when I felt him rubbing me. But I can’t lie. I needed him, and he needed me as he pulled up my skirt. My knees went weak, and he held me up with his other arm as he rubbed me, finally reaching inside my underwear.
That touch—that shadow of a touch, because I didn’t let him keep going—was like an alarm going off. Suddenly I realized what we were doing, and I pushed him away, rearranging my clothing as his words echoed in my head:I’ll bang this chick and send her on her way. That was what he’d told me he’d said. That was what he thought he should have done. And the way he was treating me now—like a starving animal and not like a lover—made me wonder if that was what he was doing now. What I needed was the Jack I had loved, not the Ross his friends had known before I’d come around, the guy who hooked up with girls and left them hanging without a care.
Aching, on the verge of tears, I wrestled free of his grasp. He stood there watching me, his chest rising and falling. For a moment, our eyes locked, and neither of us said anything, but I could feel his stare following me as I ran off to the bedroom.
7
Good Night, Jack
