In This Starless City

Amazing banner by cfizzle (over on Quizilla). Absolutely gorgeous. c:

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What was said between myself and Jack that night stayed in my head until the following morning when I was home alone in bed. I still had some unpacking to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to get out from under my covers.

I was a fucking ticking time bomb and I thought—no, I truly believed—that if I’d moved, I would have been set off like some kind of ultra-sensitive chemical reaction.

So, I lied there in bed in my New York City apartment and tried with absolutely no success not to think of Jack.

I could remember every word he’d said from the previous night. The way he’d said them, the emotion with which he said them, and I couldn’t get his face out of my brain.

I was so pathetically in love with him that it angered, upset, thrilled, depressed, excited, confused, and concerned me all at once.

I tried numerous times to convince myself that everything I’d said the night before was the alcohol, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe that bullshit being as I could remember every tiny detail of the evening with better clarity than I could’ve if I were sober.

So how in pluperfect hell would I manage getting Jack to believe something that even I wouldn’t (and couldn’t) buy?

After helping clean out the tour buses (it was incredibly awkward with Jack there), I was reluctant to take a cab out to the diner to meet the All Time Low guys to bid them farewell.

Despite the fact that my boys would be meeting me there sooner or later, I would’ve opted or sooner when I arrived at the diner to see only the All Time Low guys sitting at one of the corner tables. My heart jumped and my stomach sank at the same time, which both confused and concerned me.

But I put a smile on and approached the table with what I hoped appeared to be a confident façade, with a little sadness mixed in there since they’d be flying back to Baltimore later that same day. But in the back of my mind, I feared that the tension that was building underneath would crack my collected surface look.

Just giving Alex the finger as he looked me up and down with those dark, predatory eyes was a little more than I thought I could handle.

Did I say predatory? Was I looking at Jack?

I thought I saw him narrow his eyes toward Alex, but maybe I was imagining things. Like maybe I was imagining how Jack was strategically paced on the end of the booth, waiting and looking at me expectantly to take the seat next to him.

I did—surprisingly without knocking anything over on the table of just falling right onto Jack then and there—and I dove right into the conversation about what would happen next.

“Our flight leaves at eight tonight,” Alex says. “So we’re all planning to go back to Baltimore and relax for a while.” His voice was positively saturated with relaxation.

“Fall is coming up,” Rian adds excitedly. “Raven football.”

The guys all got a twinkle in their eye and started chattering away at the subject.

I kept my mouth shut, being a New Yorker and all, and just sipped my coffee quietly. When I set down my mug and folded my hands in my lap, I almost jumped when fingers laced themselves with mine.

Jack gave my hand a squeeze and I didn’t have to look at him to know what he was trying to say.

He’d miss me.

As if on a cue, my phone beeped and I flipped it open to see a new text message from Jack.

Can we talk after this?
I miss you already.

I swallowed and snapped my phone closed with one hand. I couldn’t bring myself to reply to him mostly because I didn’t know what I’d say. I didn’t look over at him, and in my mind I had the sinking feeling that he was okay with it.

I say sinking because I believed he was on Cloud 9 due to everything he and I had said to each other the previous night.

I had really dug myself a grave on this one.

My guys finally arrived and we all ate a short lunch before bidding each other farewell.

I already knew I’d go back to my apartment for the rest of the night. There was ice cream and cookie dough in the freezer and I had a spot reserved on the couch with my comforter and some cheesy romantic movies that should only be watched when one’s alone.

But I had barely gotten out of my jeans and into my “fat” sweatpants when there was a knock at my door.

I should’ve known that Jack would take a cab and follow me to my place.

“You didn’t text me back,” he explained vaguely as he leaned on the doorframe. “And I told you two days ago that I wanted to explain what happened on your birthday.”

“If I let you,” I recalled suddenly. “What makes you think I want to her it?”

He considered for a moment and then attempted to smile half-heartedly. “Nothing.”

Emotionally drained and mentally incapacitated, I sighed and walked into my apartment, leaving him to decide whether or not he wanted to come inside or if he wanted to leave.

The door slammed and I knew he’d gone for the former without turning.

I swung my comforter around me and sat on my couch, squeezing myself into the corner while pulling my knees close to my chest. Jack sat on the other end of the couch, looking relaxed physically, but his eyes clearly read ‘anxious as fuck’.

“Our flight leaves in six hours,” Jack says oddly. “So if I could get through this in four, that’d be fantastic.”

I had to keep myself from scoffing or shooting a cold-hearted comment his way.

“That night in London, I had been looking for you in the crowd and I saw that girl,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “And I know you’re either not going to believe me or take this the wrong way, but…” he seemed to be bracing himself. “In the lights and with all the alcohol I’d consumed, she kind of looked like you.”

He was right in assuming I would believe him. I sneered and made to get off the couch but Jack grabbed my hand, his eyes begging for him to let him continue to explain.

“I put my hat on her head and we were, you know, dancing,” The memory made my stomach turn. “But when I said your name, she said that that wasn’t her name.”

That explained the evil grin on her face.

“And then the song was over and you were right there.”

Well…he was right in assuming I’d take this the wrong way.

“That bitch looked like glorified trash!” I objected, making to stand up again, but this time, Jack slid across the couch and braced his arm against the end of the couch like a gate and I could do nothing but look at him disapprovingly.

“And when I saw the real you standing there, I realized this,” I wouldn’t let his smooth talk win me over this time and he figured this out by the way I rolled my eyes at him. “Once I knew I’d never catch up with you, I went back and found the girl and told her what was what.”

“And what exactly was that?”

“That I thought she was a girl that I know now could never really be replaced,” he replied evenly, the honesty in his voice clear like a bell.

“And then?”

“And then she was pissed and she said that she was ten times prettier than you and was willing to bet that she was at least a hundred times better in bed than you,”

“And you said?”

“That there was no scale on earth with which anyone could measure your beauty, neither inside and out, and that only a backwards whore like her would jump straight to the sheets.”

“And you just expect me to believe this?” My hardheadedness was definitely deserving of a gold medal that day.

To my shocked confusion, Jack rolled his sleeve up to reveal a rather large bruise that encircled three small scabs. “Well, apparently, she decided to wear her sharpest rings that night just in case a prick like me came along.” I almost laughed at him. “And then she poured beer on my hat and threw it across the room.”

That explained why I hadn’t seen that particular hat since.

“And no witnesses,” I hissed. “How convenient.”

This time, Jack smiled and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Actually,” he scrolled across the screen and then turned it to me. I was presented with a picture of the girl throwing his hat across the room, beads of liquid spiraling off of it. “Rian sent this to me later that night. He was the only one still there since everyone else was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

The puzzle pieces all seemed to fit and I was finding it more and more difficult to stay angry with him.

I sighed and relaxed my body, letting my legs fall away from my torso and my arms to slide down into my lap. The blanket loosened around me and squirmed so that it fell away from my shoulders and neck. I was suddenly feeling warm…

“Look,” I started. “About last night,”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jack said easily and his voice was amicable. “Blame it on whatever you want—the New York City air, the alcohol, my unquestionably dashing good looks—and I’ll believe it, but I meant what I said and I said what I meant.” His childish grin made my icy heart thaw.

“And an elephant’s faithful one hundred percent?” I was smiling at him as he brought his arm to his face, pretending it was a trunk. “You sure don’t make it easy to stay mad at you.”

His smile went from arrogant to sweet. “Who would?”

The air in the room shifted from hostile and empty and I realized with blatant clarity that it was only myself and Jack in my apartment. There was no one to draw our attention away from each other; there was no one to interrupt us; there was no one that could potentially ruin what we’d just mended.

We were alone together.

I can’t remember who had made the first move or when it was made, but in a matter of moments, Jack was kissing me and I was kissing him back.

His weight had shifted backward and he’d pulled me on top of him on the couch and the blanket that I had around me was now draped over the two of us.

And then his shirt had been tossed over the back of the couch and he gawked at me and then sighed when I pressed my lips to the notch in his collarbone. I could hardly recognize myself; pure bliss was billowing through me in the form of bright white heat and I wanted Jack to feel what I was feeling.

“I’m willing to bet that I’m five hundred times better in bed than that whore could ever wish to be,” I say against his skin and he laughed as he dragged his hands down my sides, bringing them to a stop at the elastic waistband of my sweats.

“I told you I only have four hours until our flight,” he whispers jokingly and I knew he was smirking. “And this is a couch, not a bed.”

I laughed as I placed a kiss on his lips. His brown eyes were dazzling with excitement and the same ecstasy that was boiling within me was sparkling within them. “Then maybe we shouldn’t waste any more time,” I suggested before pulling on his shoulder and rolling us off the couch and onto the floor, the blanket coming down with us.