I'm Anything You Want Me To Be.

"Deleted." John says as he looks up from the computer. "I don't know why Pat's editing this, Garrett's usually responsible."

"I don't know why you bother to question it." I reply and take a gulp from John's drink.

He sighs as he replaces the video file and turns Pat's laptop off. "Whatever," He tries to take his bottle from me again, but I hold him off. He doesn't argue and lets me hold it.

"Pat's the only one who's seen it, right?" I ask before I gulp down some more. This shit got better since the last time I've had it. Like, really had it. Not just a sip, not just a taste.

"I guess, but does it really matter?" he questions seriously. "And why?"

"What?"

"Why does it matter?" he asks again.

"I don't know,"

"Does it really?"

I think about it.

Like the mindset John and I were together in, it was just Pat. And we're both pretty sure we don't have to worry. Since it was just Pat. I've based the decision to think so on how innocent he appears to me, and I thought that maybe that's not good enough a reason, but John's decision to think so as well must've had a good reason.

Besides, he's known Pat a mile longer than I have. He must know what he's doing.

Pat's the only one, and him seeing doesn't really change anything. It doesn't matter.

"No." I verbalize the thought. "It's just Pat."

"Exactly, it's just Pat--" He cuts himself off, the way he should be learning annoys me. He continues after a good 10 seconds of staring at me. "How do you say that?"

"Say what?" I ask, confused.

"I mean.. You're right. It's just Pat. How are you so sure we shouldn't worry?"

I can tell by the tone of his asking that he legitimately wants a legitimate answer for his legitimate question. I'm not so sure how I can give him one. Because I judge people. Not the most reasonable answer at all. But I'm about to blurt this out when he cuts me off this time.

"You and Kennedy," he says. "It's like you both have that instinct thing."

"Huh?" I dumbly sputter out. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just.. You.. Like.. I can't really explain it.. But you're like Kennedy.. A lot. It's like, uh.. How do I explain it,"

I want him to continue, I'm curious now. So I don't say anything, just waiting for him to continue.

"It's like you don't need a lot to judge a person on, you know what I mean?"

I can see he doesn't plan on adding anything so I try processing this on its own.

Judge? That's what I was thinking. But I can see that telling me off is not what John is trying to do. What is he saying, anyway? That Kennedy and I are alike? That we share some sort of special ability everyone else lost growing up? Of course, I'm using Halvo's words. I have no idea what they mean.

The kid's instinct? How a kid can tell which people are assholes and which aren't? Maybe that's what John means. Maybe. Kennedy and I get along, but what no one else knows is because of more than the fact that I fixed his cut when his best friend was terrified of blood.

The fact that Kennedy and I share more than just those stupid conversations no one is ever let in on is what I'm talking about. The fact that there's a similarity to our family background, the fact that Kennedy and I share the same kind of vulnerability. The fact that we're sort of watching over each other for the mean time.

Those are the facts no one else knows about. And no one else cares about.

"Kennedy said you're the most relevant person on this Goddamned bus." John tells me.

I don't question this. Why would I? I know I am, I know he depends on me. I care for Kennedy. And I try staying as relevant to him as possible because I'm giving him the help John and Jess are convinced he needs from the professionals.

"I think you've got that kid's instinct too." John clarifies.

I tilt my head. "Maybe I do,"

"A good thing?"

"Maybe."

"You're always second-guessing, do you know that?"

"Maybe--"

"There it goes again." He stops me. "Not that I'm complaining, but I was thinking someone like you'd be more sure of herself."

"Someone like me?" I raise an eyebrow. "Sure of herself? I'd have to disagree, John."

He raises an eyebrow, too. But not in a mocking way. "Well, you seem sure of yourself a lot of times, and I've talked to you before. You seem pretty sensible."

Sure of myself. That is the one thing I make sure never to call myself. That is one way I make sure never to describe myself. Of course, I'm not. I'm the most unstable shit ever.

Unstable in emotions, and unstable in actions.

Never, ever, have I been sure of myself.

"You think." John says. "I like that about you. And you talk, and when you do, you make sense. And I like that about you, how you make sense."

I do. I do think before I act, and I'm one to think about the consequences before I do an action. Take into consideration what I've got and what I might lose, what I can get, out of a situation.

Only when impulse comes and thinks it's in control that I lose myself, and only when I'm under the influence of alcohol.

I've only been under the influence of alcohol a handful of times, and no, I don't stop thinking. But I do stop caring. That's it with alcohol and a lot of other things that would take too long to list down. Alcohol, I can control.

Impulse? I can try.

"Also, if you remember anything that night, you were really cool. You kept talking to me about things. Things that made sense, and that really, really turned me on. I think it's stupid, and I bet you do too, but I really liked how you never stopped talking. I rarely have anyone sensible to talk to, hear me? Sorry, I know it's weird that you're hearing these things from me, but I really liked you. You were smart,"

I feel the alcohol burn in my throat, not caring if Nick was right, that this shit's too strong for me. I like it. After I finish my drink, I put it on the table. I don't know why, but the words jump out of my mouth before I know it and I say "If I were smart, goodness, John, I would've believed it when my health teacher in high school told us that we could get pregnant the first time."

John doesn't think before he responds. "What do you mean the first time?"

I've stopped thinking now and the words just spill out. "It's pretty self-explanatory, no?"

"No--"

"John, you were my first." I say, but the only thing in my head is that maybe I can blame alcohol for how I just lost control with myself. Just maybe.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Is losing my virginity something to joke about?"

"No." John answers. "But.. I.. No, I couldn't have been the first, are you crazy? You were too good--"

The alcohol doesn't help me think. My tolerance to this shit is too low. Just a bottle, and I can feel my thoughts collapsing. This isn't good. Nick's asleep. Everyone else is asleep, I can't let alcohol take over me. Not right now. Shit, Nick told me not to drink when he's not around.

My thoughts. No wonder they've gotten so reactive when I know I haven't closed out the world yet. It's the alcohol, of course, it's the alcohol!

And now impulse takes over me before I can prevent it. And I hit John across his face. It's only after half a second that I realize why I have done what I just did when words make their way out of me without permission again. "I'm fucking talking about losing my virginity to you and you're telling me I was too good?!"

"Well, it's true, I'm sorry?" he apologizes sarcastically. "You were too good for that to have been your first time,"

"Excuse me?"

"You were a great fuck!" John says quite directly. "You can't expect me to believe I was your first, I'm not stupid."

I get the sense to shut my mouth even though I can't stop yelling at him in my head. I know I'm turning red with the anger and the alcohol, and I know that I have to stop this. Because if he keeps going on in this topic, he'll go back to what I've said before.

Because he only thought about the latter part of that sentence. We could get pregnant the first time. The first time. Those are the only words he focused on. Not how I got pregnant. I'm glad he's stupid.

For a while, he just stares at me. And I can tell he's concluding it's the alcohol. But then fear waves over his expressionless face and all of a sudden he's got something else in mind. "Pregnant?"

I don't reply. Fuck him.

"Wait-- I-- What?!"

Fuck. Him.

"Then that means-- Jay-- What?!"

Now John's mentioned Jay. What do I do?

"Wait, but he's-- No-- What?!"

I just get up. I thank him for editing our scene out of the video himself, then I take the empty bottle and tap it on his chin. "God, I hate alcohol."

He takes the bottle from me. "Iann,"

I watch him set it back on the table as I say "Good night, John. I'm going to sleep. Mind if you watch Jay for the night?"

John eyes Jay, who is asleep on the other couch. "Not at all,"

"Thanks," I say, and I smile. No, I think I smirk.

"But Iann,"

"Op," I put my index finger on his lips. I look into his eyes, and I know he's still confused. He's still thinking about it. Even though he could barely muster up words, I know he's starting to rave in his brain about Jay, and how he could be John's.

I want him to think about something else.

So you know what I do? I take my finger off and replace it with my lips.

He kisses back.

When I pull back, he just pulls me back. And kisses me again.

God, I don't care how good this feels. I hate this guy.

I pull away again, this time, surely. "Good night, John Ohh. I hate you." Then I leave him on my way to my bunk.