the first one • j. hughes

31

The door opened slowly. My heartbeat quickened. Following behind the owner of the bar is Jack. I avoid looking at him in the same way I've avoided him since he got back to Jersey. So I stare at my feet and press my bag of ice harder onto my fist.

"This kid's lucky I've taken a liking to her the past month she's been coming around," the bar owner says. "Told her either call someone to pick her up or I'd call the cops."

"Thanks, Mike," I mumble.

"Yeah, thanks," Jack echoes. The disappointment of his deep breath in and out seeps into my bones. "Let's go, Reed."

* * * * *

I've never felt more out of place in a car with Jack in my life. I have sat literally on the floor and people's laps. That's more comfortable than what's going on right now. Pure silence. My hand hurts. My head hurts. My nose and lip hurt. My heart hurts. That one wasn't from the fight.

Okay admittedly, getting into a bar fight wasn't my best choice. In my defense, I had a lot to drink and a girl pushed into me a bit too hard. Naturally, I pushed back even harder. She swung and missed. I swung and hit. She swung back and the rest is a blur. All I really know is it ended up with me in Mike's office with a bloody mouth, a bloody nose, and a hell of an ache on one of my cheekbones.

"Do I even want to know why you've been frequenting a bar in Jersey?"

I stay silent.

Jack laughs. "Do I want to know why you got into a fight? Honestly, do I want to know anything about this entire situation?"

"Dunno," I say lowly. "Do you?"

The truth is that I've been going all the way to Mike's to drink instead of any other bar because of Jack. It's not that far from his place. I always have this itch to go see him. Doesn't make much sense since I've been avoiding him. I don't try to understand my logic, it makes my head hurt. Or that's the punches I took acting up.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He huffs. Scoffs. I don't know. He makes some noise of displeasure with me and then pulls the car over into some parallel parking spot where no one is since there's no one around in general. I'm in trouble. I know I'm in trouble.

"You don't want to talk about anything," he states. I go to ask what he means but he stops me with a wave of his hand. "Not a single text or call back from you. If I didn't have Luke or Quinn or Penn or literally anyone to ask, I wouldn't know you were alive. Seriously, I don't get what's up with you right now."

"It's not—"

"Don't tell me it's not a big deal. It is."

"Row—"

He shakes his head. "Unless the next words out of your mouth are an explanation for why you've been ignoring me for weeks, I don't want to hear it."

My still pretty buzzed brain searches for anything. Nothing feels good enough. He doesn't deserve any of the explanations I can give. He's better than them. Jack doesn't deserve my bullshit explanations because they sound ridiculous even in my head. I can't even stomach trying to say them out loud to him. To his face. His perfect face that is everything.

"Seriously?" Jack's gaze engraves his name into the side of my face. No one else can ever look at me without seeing he's looked at me. "We kissed. It's taken us our entire fucking lives to do that and now you're ghosting me even in the same damn car as me?"

"It's not like that," I say.

"It is."

"It's not!" I shout. It takes me a moment to sink back into my seat. My next words are barely even audible. "Holly was right."

Jack stumbles for his response. "Holly was— What?"

"This is bigger than us. Anything we do is bigger than the two of us. It can't be just ours."

"When did you find out about that?" He asks quietly. In a sad way. Like a kid getting told no chocolate.

"Quinn told me not too long before the uh— The y'know."

He rakes a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. "You can't even say it?"

"I'm still processing," I say. The s's emphasize the slurring my words have.

"At this point, it feels mean."

Mean? I think the last time Jack called me mean was when I was six and kept stealing his GI Joe. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to block out everything. Everything. I've made a mess.

"Kennedy," he says, snapping me out of it. "I don't want to pressure you. I'm sorry if this comes off like I'm pressuring you."

I'm so quiet, I'm not sure even I can hear me speak. "It's bigger than us."

There's a probability of things going wrong if I agree to go on a date with him. However, there's also a probability of things going so right. So good. If I say no, is there a probability of anything feeling good? I don't think so. That's the bad option.

"It is, I know. I get that." Jack sighs and I wait to see if he says more before I give my answer. "People can kiss."

"What?" My stomach drops.

"People can kiss. I was probably caught up in the moment with the date thing," he says. "People can kiss."

Stop repeating it, I want to scream. In reality, I stare straight forward, and I nod. He was caught up in the moment. That's all it was, he says. It's nothing more than a kiss. People can kiss. That doesn't always lead to anything. He was caught up in the moment. It feels like there's a knife sticking out of my damn stomach.

* * * * *

Luke's on the couch. He stands up the moment he sees me. Bruises coming in. Last I saw in the side view mirror, there's a bit of dried blood still on my nose and mouth. My best friend looks at me with concern for something other than my injuries. I'm not sure he even noticed them.

Jack walks right past him and the living room, calling back, "You deal with her."

The knife in my stomach twists. His door slams shut a few seconds later. Slowly but surely, I approach Luke. He finally seems to notice the injuries and his concern deepens.

"Caught up in the moment," I whisper, voice breaking.

Somehow, thankfully somehow, Luke gets exactly what that means and wraps me up in the most bone-breaking hug ever. It's exactly what I need. It's exactly how to comfort me. I was ready to say yes. I was ready to take the risk and he stabbed me in the stomach.