Green and Gray

The next morning, as we waited for our shuttle to the airport, John approached me. I was expecting an apology, but that's not what I got. All I got was a very hung over, confused expression.

“Hey, why did you sleep in the other room?” He asked. His voice was raspier than usual.

I looked at him blankly. Just stared at him, blinking my eyes. Was he serious? He didn't remember anything that happened? My eyes shifted to look at Garrett, who was standing near by, watching us and listening to our conversation. We locked eyes and he gave me a sympathetic look.

“Was I being too loud?” John tried again.

My eyes snapped back to him and my anger flared, “Something like that.” I snapped harshly.

He reeled back at the tone of my voice. His expression grew more confused. His eyes were wide, “Well, what did I do?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, turning away from him. I was feeling violent again. “Sparrow,” He tried again, but I kept ignoring him.

“Come on man, I don't think you want to open that can of worms just yet.” Jared said as he pulled on John's arm, dragging him away from me.

“What happened last night?” He asked the group.

“We'll tell you later.” I heard Kennedy say.

John had tried talking to me again while we waited at the gate for the plane. In return, I plugged my headphones into my ears and listened to Local Natives. I sat there, playing random games on my iPhone while he sat there, looking defeated. Finally, Max pulled him aside and explained everything that happened. He tried to apologize after that, but I wouldn't hear anything of what he was saying.

The ride from the airport to my house was the same. When I got out of the van, he tried to say goodbye, but I kept walking. I decided that that was the last time I would see him. But, like all of my plans of ignoring him, they never work out.

Inside my apartment, I dropped my bag on my bedroom floor and collapsed on my unmade bed. It was quiet and I felt lonely. Maybe Landon would answer his phone. I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and dialed his number.

“Hi.” I said once Landon answered his cell phone.

“Hey, Love. How was Seattle?” At least he got my message.

“Eh.” I lied. It was a lot worse than “eh.”

“You didn't have a good time?”

I frowned, rolling over onto my side, “I just missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Doll.” My heart fluttered as I smiled, “Why don't you come over tonight and I'll cook you dinner?” Quickly, I agreed.

Dinner turned into “I missed you sex” which turned into me staying the night which then turned into “good morning” sex. I had never been as sexually active in a relationship until Landon came around. I wasn't complaining, though. I never really liked sex until I was with Landon. It wasn't as joyful with all of my other partners. Landon made me feel good about myself when I was with him in that way. He knew exactly what to do and exactly where to touch.

After a round of shower sex, Landon mentioned that he had to take his father to a doctor's appointment. It was for the best, that he had something to do, because I had to get to work and I knew if he didn't mention anything, I would have never left. He had that effect on me.


Winter came into the store that Monday to get me started in on being the store runner. It was nerve wracking, being in charge of a whole store at the age of twenty-one. I had to do the bills and the books and even restock inventory and make orders. When people had problems, I was the one they ran to for a solution. Thinking about these things gave me severe anxiety.

“How was your weekend? I haven't seen you since the bridal boutique and Ryver went all protective older sister on you.” Winter said when she walked through the front door, cradling a cup of hot tea.

I sighed as I remembered my encounter with my sister a few days prior, “Well, John and his band kidnapped me and forced me to go with them to their radio show up in Seattle.” Her eyes got considerably large at my news, “Saturday night, he got wasted and tried to force alcohol down my throat then said some hurtful things when I refused. I called him pathetic and he said some more hurtful things. Other than that, it was fine.”

She was shocked. I could tell by how her jaw dropped, “What an asshole!” She gasped, “I'm sorry, Hun.”

I shrugged, “What're you gonna do, right? Now I know the real him. And quite frankly, I don't like it.”

She frowned, “Maybe you caught him on a bad day?” She suggested as she set her coat down on the front counter I was leaning on. “I mean, he did just get back from tour and found out that the girl he's into is dating some perfect, British guy.” I gave her a look, which she ignored, “Are you going to see him again?”

I looked at her as if she were crazy, “I'm still mad at him!”

“I'm not saying today!” She defended, Give him another chance. You were taught to always give people the benefit of the doubt.” The conversation we were having had me feeling a bit unsettled.

“Why are we talking about him like he's my boyfriend or something of that significance? I've known him for a month and a half and most of that time he wasn't even home. I don't know him. He barely came back into my life and two out of the four times I was really with him, he was drunk and I don't know if I like that. He's just a guy in a band.” Did I really think that about him? Was I just saying these things to keep myself from going crazy?

“Spare, he's more than just some guy in a band.” She smiled at me knowingly which confused me and sent my head in a whirl. “Now, come on, let me get you up to speed on how to run this baby.” She said then disappeared into the the back room.

Winter had left about two hours after she got to the shop and I had been sitting in the same spot, at the computer, trying to get the bills taken care of. It was a little easier seeing as I had worked at my aunt's office for the last two years. It was still frustrating as hell to try to get the Quickbooks to work right.

I was in the middle of inputting a bill for a shipment of Betsey Johnson intimates when Ronnie, a coworker, who would have really gotten along swimmingy with my parents, walked in, “Hey, there's a guy out here looking for you.” My brow creased. “He's hot, too.”

“What?” I mouthed in confusion as I set the piece of paper down and got up from the computer chair. I repressed a groan when I saw John waiting at the front counter, looking extremely uncomfortable and nervous. I didn't resist rolling my eyes, though. I definitely wasn't expecting him to be in my place of work and I definitely didn't want him there.

“Look, I know you probably don't want to see me because I'm a jerk, but I just was to talk to you.” He sounded desperate.

“John, just leave; I don't want to hear it.” I glanced over at Ronnie, who was looking at my with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I'm not leaving. I'm going to stay here until you talk to me. I don't care if I look like some creep who's hanging out at some women's clothing store.”

With narrowed eyes, I looked at him. He seemed sincere enough. Finally, I sighed, “Fine. Come back here so we have more privacy.”

Quickly, he followed me into the back room and began babbling, “I'm so sorry, Sparrow. I hardly remember what I said to you, but I remember how angry and hurt you looked.” The feelings in that moment came back to me and I winced, “You've got to believe me when I tell you that I never wanted to make you feel that way. I'm really not a bad guy and you know that.”

I shifted as I tried to not let his words sink in, “I know you're not, but why did you say those things? Why did you try to force some drink down my throat when I kept saying “no?””

He sighed deeply and looked down, “I was jealous.” He finally said. Jealous?

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“I'm jealous of Landon. Seeing you checking your phone to see if he called or texted you made me angry because he didn't care. It makes me so upset that he gets to call you his and he doesn't even care that you're not home, that you've randomly disappeared. You just wanted him to care enough to call you, to worry, and he never did. So I wanted to hurt you. It's fucked up, but I just wanted to hurt you because you hurt me by being with this guy when there are other guys out there that would treat you so much better.”

My mind was buzzing and my chest tightened, making me feel lightheaded and not able to breathe, “John,” I breathed, “I don't know what to say.” I was rendered speechless.

He didn't say anything more and I stood there, trying to collect my thoughts, “You know, it hurt seeing you that drunk.” His brow furrowed, obviously not liking where I was going with the conversation, “You shoving alcohol in my face hurt even more. I guess I can forgive you because you didn't know I don't drink, but it doesn't make me any less upset.” I paused, trying to get my words in order, “Let me tell you a story.”

I sat down at the computer and gestured to the blue couch pressed against the wall across from me. Once he was seated, I began, “There was this girl named Erika. She was beautiful inside and out and had so much going for her. She was bright, bubbly, and happy-go-lucky. Everybody loved her.

“During her Senior year of high school, she went to a small show at a local venue. She was so excited and wouldn't stop talking about it the weeks leading up to it. Once the show was over, she was buzzing around excitedly and her friends couldn't help but be happy for her; it was one of her favorite bands. As she was crossing the street in front of the venue, a car came out of nowhere and hit her going seventy miles per hour. She went flying twenty feet in the air.”

John sat there, looking stunned, “Erika was my best friend and I was there that night. The guy who hit her was five times over the legal limit and got sentenced to life in prison.” My eyes watered with tears, “I watched my best friend get hit by a car, fly twenty feet in the air, and die all because some guy decided to get completely drunk and drive his car.” I wiped the tears that had fallen, “To see someone you love and care about, lying in the street, lifeless and a bloody mess was the most horrible thing I've ever seen.” I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand under my nose. “That's why I don't drink.”

He stood from the couch and took the three steps to where I was sitting. His arms wound around my shoulders and my face buried into his chest, “I'm so sorry, Sparrow. I didn't know.”

I sniffed again, “I know you didn't, but it still hurts thinking about it. Whenever I see someone so out of their mind drunk, it takes me back to that night and I hear the sirens and the screams and the crying. I see her body all contorted and mangled in the middle of the road. It was truly traumatizing.”

He tightened his hold on me, “Sparrow, believe me, if I knew, I wouldn't have gotten so drunk. I'm surprised you didn't kick me in the balls.”

Despite my crying, I chuckled, “I was trying to ignore you.” I gently pushed myself away even though I felt so safe and at peace in John's arms, “That John I saw on Saturday wasn't the John I know. He was just some alcohol driven douche, right?” I pleaded with no shame. I just wanted to know that that really wasn't him.

He shook his head, “No, that wasn't me. This,” He jabbed his index and middle fingers of his right hand into his chest, “this is me. I'm a good guy.”

I nodded, still a little shaky. I didn't start the day off thinking that my day would be so hard by one in the afternoon, “Okay, I believe you.”

He smiled genuinely, melting my heart in a way that not even Landon's British accent could do. His thumbs came up to my face and wiped away the stray tears, “Stop crying, Gorgeous. It's making me sad.” My heart fluttered. Why was I doing this to myself? “Now, why don't you get your coat and I'll take you out to lunch?”

Sadly, my boyfriend was the last thing on my mind as I agreed and slipped on my black leather jacket.

I was shivering again. We were sitting in a perfectly fine 76 degree Chipotle and I was shivering. My scarf was pulled up to my nose as my teeth chattered. John was sitting across from me, eating a bowl with steak and the works, in a long sleeve henley shirt. Me, on the other hand, I hadn't even touched my chicken burrito because my hands hadn't warmed enough.

“Have you thought about possibly getting this “thin skin” of yours check out?” I narrowed my eyes at him while my right leg bounced up and down, “Or maybe wearing more layers?”

I scoffed but couldn't help but smile, “It's just bad genes and too much sun.” I explained then slowly uncurled my fingers from the fists they were in, to unwrap the foil from my burrito.

“I hear ya. It's too hot in the summer then it get frigid during winter nights with the wind and all.” He shoveled a fork full of rice and steak coated in salsa into his mouth.

“Not to mention I was in Australia for the majority of last winter, so I haven't really been around cold all that much.” I took a bite from the corner of the burrito and chewed.

His brow furrowed and his hand froze halfway to his mouth, “What were you doing in Australia?” He questioned and I shrugged.

Not looking up from my burrito, I replied, “Soul searching and coming to terms with some things. I spent most days on the beach in Sydney, writing and clearing my mind.” I set my burrito down and frowned. The whole two months I was there from January to March were very hard on me.

“When Erika died, I didn't really give myself the time to mourn because I was in such denial. I would rather lose my mind believing that she was here than come to terms with the fact that she actually died. It took about two years for me to buckle down and say “okay, time to move on.”” I smiled sadly and shrugged once more, “So I packed a suitcase and took off right after the new year. There was no contact with anyone here at home. It was just me and my heart and soul.” I chuckled, feeling completely pathetic. “God, you probably don't want to hear about my heartache,”

He quickly shook his head, “No, no. I want to hear all about it.” He smiled encouragingly at me to which I returned with a warm one. “What was Australia like?” He asked next. The way he listened made me feel like everything coming out of my mouth was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard. John really knew how to treat a girl.

“It was warm and exciting. Every day was a new adventure and that's exactly how I treated it. The people there were fantastic and so nice. My neighbor at the apartment I rented, took me under her wing and showed me all of the right places to go. It was one of the most liberating and scary things I've ever done in my life, moving to a completely different country for two months and not knowing a single soul. It really gave me an insight on who I am.” I was blabbering, but I didn't care because John seemed to really be interested in my story.

“And who is that?” He asked. It was then I noticed the admiration in his eyes as he looked at me. My heart skipped a beat.

“At the time I was a very unstable person. Now I'm stable as could be. I was looking for closure there and I found it. I was just hiding behind my heartbreak because that's all I ever really knew. I was only seventeen when Erika died and my heart shattered. There were guys who tried to mend it back together, but they couldn't handle how fucked up I was. So they left even though I had unknowingly invested so much in them. They each took a hammer to my barely there heart and made it worse. I never thought I would be fixed, but those two months in Australia really fixed me. They healed me in so many different ways.” My heart felt light as I let John deeper into my world.

“I wish I had as much courage as you, Sparrow.” I was flattered, “You seem like none of this stuff has even happened to you, yet here you are retelling it to some loser in a band.” He chuckled as did I.

“This took some time, John. It took a lot of deep soul searching.”

He smiled then cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat. It made me wonder what was on his mind, “What does Landon think of all of this?”

Guilt immediately flooded over me. Here I was having such a meaningful conversation with John and I hadn't even had a thought of my boyfriend. I cleared my throat awkwardly, “He doesn't know about anything. All he knows is that I don't drink.”

John's features morphed into confusion, “Why not? Why did you tell me rather than your boyfriend?”

I shrugged awkwardly as I refoiled my not even half eaten burrito, “You seem like you'd care more.” He looked at me sadly but all I did was place my refoiled burrito in the chips bad and gather my trash. He watched me as I picked up my purse and tray, “Come on, my lunch hour is just about done.” I smiled brightly at him. I couldn't exactly decipher the look he was giving me, but I had a feeling it had to do with the fact that I trusted him more than my boyfriend. I really was trying to set myself up for destruction.