I'm Restless, Obsessed With Your Future

"Are you serious?"

Jack pulls away from Dessa's lips and looks at the girl standing in the doorway. It's his fault, he knows, yet he's flustered by the situation. He then turns back to Dessa, but she's not much help. She's just staring at him, surprised. Mortified, almost. "Yeah, I'm serious," he says, attempting to fake some confidence. He looks at Danielle again, prepared for the drama. She has a silent fury that surrounds her, but she isn't breaking down or bitching him out like she normally did. She's just standing there, not bothering to say a word. "Danielle, honestly, what did you expect?" asks Jack, hoping to get a reaction.

As Danielle looks to the ground in defeat, Jack suddenly feels a wave of regret. It's not sympathy, though, is it? he wonders. "You know, I don't really know what I expected," she says, turning around and walking to the exit. "Just another chance, maybe." She shakes her head. It kills him. Maybe she really has changed. Maybe it is sympathy.

Jack, you sympathetic piece of shit.

"Oh, by the way," Danielle says abruptly, catching Jack's attention again. "Alex wants the room back eventually." She opens and closes the door before Jack can even comprehend what just happened.

Dessa continues to stare at Jack, though he doesn't seem to notice anymore. This girl, whoever she is, captivates him. And if she wants another chance, this isn't the first time that she has caught Jack's attention. "Who was that?" she asks.

He sighs. "My night is very similar to yours, believe it or not." He rests his head on the wall, trying to stop his thinking.

Suddenly, she understands. "So she's your ex." He nods. "Did she cheat?"

"Nah," he says, forcing himself to sit upright. "She talked shit about me behind my back and was just a general bitch."

This is a bit of a surprise. "She didn't seem that bad," Dessa admits.

"You don't know her like I do," he responds sharply.

She sighs. "Fair enough." She looks down at her hands, beginning to fiddle with her thumbs. "So I guess it isn't your day as well?"

"No," he scoffs. "This day sucks. Literally, the only good part of today was the show."

"Well, we have something in common."

He smiles at this and reaches for her hand. "I'm sorry about the sudden make-out, by the way," he says.

Giving a subtle grin back, she grabs his reaching hand. "It's fine."

"No, really," says Jack, stroking her palm with his thumb. "It wasn't cool. I don't do that shit. I don't…" He's struggling to find words. Speaking is getting more difficult by the second. It's not surprising; he finished his drink (well, the amount that he didn't spill on Dessa) in the time that they were talking. "I don't do shit to girls. And even if I did, you're better than that."

As flattered as she is, Dessa becomes flustered. She's better than that? Her track record hasn't exactly proven this, so she's skeptical. "Really?" she asks.

He squeezes her hand tightly. "Yes! You deserve my fucking respect." He pauses to think. 'Fucking' didn't really need to be added to that sentence. He just threw it in there for the sake of saying 'fuck,' which means the alcohol is speaking for him. Is it a smart idea to keep talking? "You're way too fucking cool for that," he continues. Forget smart.

She nods, trying to decode this guy. He's beginning to slur and cuss excessively. When they kissed, his lips tasted like vodka and cola. So he's drunk. He's being honest to her. She thinks. It's been a long time since a man found her worthy of respect. She's not used to it, so she almost can't accept it. But for Jack, she'll pretend. "Thanks," she says shyly as she switches her sitting position.

Her face has gotten closer. Her legs are up against his and their hands are both sitting upon her upper leg. He feels a rush, a vibe, a moment waiting to occur. He wishes he hadn't kissed her. It did what it needed to do, but it left him in withdraw. He needs it again. He tries to fight away a smile, but he can't stop. The idea of her is filling his brain with things he shouldn't think about so suddenly. "It, uh," he lets the alcohol say. "It was nice actually." She looks at him, seeming confused. "Kissing you," he clarifies. "Really fucking nice."

Simultaneously, she lets go of his hand and scoffs a little. Of course. "That fucking nice," she says to herself, disappointed. Then again, he's not in the best state. Her scoff becomes less unimpressed and more genuine. "How long have you known me for?"

"Not very long," he quickly responds, realizing he's offended her. "But I swear, you're the coolest girl I've met in a really long time."

Dessa hangs her head sheepishly, starting to blush. It's not easy to get her like this, but Jack has managed to do so. Someone she barely knows… though she must admit, she feels comfortable with him. "Well, thank you."

When she looks back up (though it takes far too long for him to bare), Jack can't resist grabbing her neck. She may realize he isn't bullshitting, but he needs her needs to feel the same way. She needs to understand. "See, it's like this," he says before leaning in further. He presses their lips together, resisting temptation to do more. She deserves my fucking respect, he reminds himself. He ends the kiss by pulling his head back, though doesn't pull away completely; she's like a magnet, dragging him in, but he's doing his best to stop himself. "You know?" he asks, watching her eyes open, seeing her curiosity and fear. "It's nice. No drama, no bullshit. It's just…" He pauses, seeking for some approval in her face. Her eyes are a little more calm, and slowly, he sees the corners of her mouth turn upward. "It's nice. Really fucking nice." Satisfied by what he managed to say, he pulls back completely and rests his head on the wall once again.

It's like her vocal cords are too strained to make a noise. She tries, but she can't. Not that she knows what to say regardless. Feelings fill her to the brim. Happiness. Confusion. Fear. It all cancels out until she feels almost nothing. She's taken over by her indecision. "You're really sweet," she says without thinking. "I really appreciate it."

He sighs. He knows what this means. "You're not feeling it, are you?"

A wave of ease overcomes her. "No." Her grip on his hand loosens.

He takes his other hand off her neck and puts it on her shoulder. "It's okay," he says, half-assing a smile. "You're having a shitty day, so it's probably better if we don't do anything."

She lets go of him, grinning back at him. "Thank you," she says. "Really. I wasn't lying when I said you were sweet." Her face is getting warmer with flattery.

Unexpectedly, he puts his other arm around her and pulls her body into his, hugging her tightly. "It's no problem." She hears her muffled giggle, which gives him relief. He pushes himself back a little so that he can see her face. "Seriously, you okay?" he asks. Dessa nods, but at the same time, she yawns. He immediately becomes infatuated with her adorableness. "Aw, you're tired!" He releases her from his wrap, scooting himself down the bed and placing his head on the pillow that was supporting his back. He pats his hand on the empty spot next to him and smiles.

Her emotions relax. She gets it—he wants something, but he's willing to settle for nothing. Because he likes her. Without pause, she lays next to him. Because, honestly, she likes him, too.

"We should stay friends after tonight."

He turns his head to face her, surprised by her bluntness. She is looking up to the ceiling, so he grabs her hand to feel some sort of unity with her. "Okay," he says. Hand in hand, they fall asleep.