44. Lost
forty-four
Lost
“ F eeling better?” Jacob hands me a bottle of water when I stumble back to the sidewalk after puking my guts out in the alley behind the club.
I take it and rinse out my mouth without answering.
All of us–Brad, Rob, the other three guys we came with, Jacob and Laini–got thrown out of the club. No one called the police, which I’m almost coherent enough to be grateful for.
Brad was unceremoniously carried to a waiting cab by his new friends. He was yelling threats to me as they stuffed him inside, because somehow I’m the cause of him making a complete ass of himself.
I’m only responsible for making an ass out of one person, and that’s me.
“Let’s get you home,” Jacob says, as the valet pulls Laini’s car up to the curb.
Laini huffs past him. “Not in my car.” She gives him a cold look.
“And after the way you behaved tonight, you’re not riding in my car either.
” She climbs into her pure white BMW, slams the door, and speeds away.
The valet gives Jacob a sympathetic look.
I wonder if this means they're broken up.
Between heaves, I heard them arguing. I'm too miserable to be happy about it.
“I’ll try to get a hold of one of the guys from base,” Jacob pulls out his phone. “But it's Friday night so...”
“I already have a ride,” I answer.
“Not with those guys,” he gestures in the general direction the cab took.
I glare at him. “I called Matt.” My older brother is the only one left to rescue me, even if I know it’ll come with a price. “Not that it’s any of your business who I go home with.”
“Good call." He shoves his phone in his pocket. "I know you’re mad at me, but I’m not sorry for the way things turned out tonight. Well, maybe a little sorry.” He rubs his knuckles. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but I’m glad I was here.”
His tone, his expression, but mostly my own humiliation rubs me the wrong way. “I didn’t ask you to come to my rescue.” It comes out cold and dead, exactly how I feel inside.
“You’re lucky I saw you. If I hadn’t come here tonight–”
“Then what?” I challenge him. “I might have accidentally had a good time?”
Jacob shakes his head like he’s running out of patience with me. “You know what I'm talking about."
“Do I? Because I saw you doing the exact same thing that I was doing tonight—drinking, dancing, putting your hands all over Laini. Why is it okay for you to do those things, but not me?”
“I’m twenty-two,” he shoots back.
“And I’m eighteen and an adult. I’m capable of making my own stupid decisions.” I meet his eyes with a challenge. “Don’t tell me you weren’t out drinking and partying when you were eighteen.”
“I was, but–”
“But I’m a girl, so I shouldn't do those things. Talk about a double standard. ”
“That’s not it and you know it!” His face twists in anger and frustration.
“The hell it's not!”
He starts pacing. I slump down on the curb because my legs feel too weak to hold me up any longer.
After a few minutes, he sits down on the curb next to me. “I’m too tired to fight with you tonight, Jess.”
“Then stop trying to run my life. I didn't ask you to be here tonight. I didn't ask you to rescue me.” It’s the same argument we’ve had before.
The same argument that never goes anywhere, except tonight I feel like pushing it further.
“Why don't you just get the hint and leave me alone?” I regret the words almost as soon as they leave my lips, but I can’t take them back.
He closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them, he looks tired. “If that’s what you want, you’ve got it.” He lets out a breath that sounds like he's been holding it for a long time, “But there's something I need to tell you first."
I turn to face him. As mad as I am at Jacob, part of me is still waiting for him to break the invisible barrier between us and tell me how he really feels. Part of me still thinks he has feelings for me. Part of me still thinks he could love me.
There’s something almost pleading in his eyes. "You’re better than this–better than I was at eighteen and better than I am now. The girl I saw tonight, she isn’t you. Not these clothes, not the make-up, or the drinking, and definitely not a guy like Brad.”
I stare back at him. I'm not sure how to take that. I want to ask him what kind of guy I should be with, maybe even if it’s him, but I puked up all the liquid courage I had left. I can only whisper, "What if I'm not the person you think I am?"
His face softens. “I know you, Jess. You’re smart and strong and beautiful.
You have so much going for you." He pushes an errant strand of hair off my cheek. "If you would just let yourself see it. It kills me to see you waste everything you are on a guy that doesn’t deserve you, or on a night that’s only going to make you hate yourself in the morning, and maybe for a long time after.
” His gaze is so intense that can’t look away.
“Bottom line, Jess, no guy is worth losing who you are.”
I stare at him with my mouth open. It feels like he’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what he wants to hear.
He leans toward me and my breath catches. “Someday I hope you find a guy who deserves you.” He brushes his hand down my cheek in a way that can only be described as brotherly.
Whatever I thought I was going to say is gone. I’m as stunned as Brad must have been when he hit the floor. If I wanted confirmation of how Jacob viewed our relationship, here it is.
“Little sister, little sister, little sister.”
Matt’s chiding comes from behind me. I spin around, wondering how much he heard or saw. “I never imagined I’d have something this big to hold over your head.” He whistles. “You look like hell. Do you have any idea what Mom and Dad would do to you if they found out what you’ve been up to tonight?”
As soon as we get home I go up to my room and dig the locket out of my jewelry box.
I lie on my bed without changing my clothes and rub it between my fingers, across my aching head and then press it against my lips.
The room is spinning and I’m sick to my stomach.
I'm not sure if it's from the drinking or something more. I can’t stop thinking about what Jacob said and the way he looked at me. I want to cry, but nothing comes.
Maybe I've shed too many tears over him already.
I think back to all the times I imagined his voice in my head.
All the times when I pressed the locket to my lips to remind myself that someone cared about me.
I carried him with me, around my neck for years, thinking about the fifteen-year-old boy who cared about me enough to give me a locket, enough to give me a kiss.
What if it wasn’t really Jacob? What if it was me? Stronger than I thought I was. Fighting to make myself okay.
All by myself.
Jacob wasn’t there when I went out for track, ignoring the behind-my-back snickers and fat jokes.
He wasn’t there the first time I ran a mile and had to go to the bushes to throw up.
He wasn’t there when I stood up to Brad and turned my back on the popularity I’d worked so hard to gain in favor of my own self-respect.
He wasn’t there, not really, only in my mind.
When he came back, I convinced myself that I couldn’t live without him.
That I still needed him. That I needed to know he still cared about me.
And he does care, just not the way I hoped he would.
For some reason, that hurts more than thinking I mean nothing to him.
I've been stupid for so long. First with Brad and then with Jacob and then with Nate, then back to Jacob and tonight, Brad again. Nothing I tried to be or change or prove got me anywhere, except right back where I started–back to all the insecurity and trying to be something I'm not.
Jacob is right. No guy is worth losing myself over.
Not even him.