Page 25 of Reckless
“I’ll see if she wants to come down,” Oliver said, taking the lead. He grabbed his briefcase and left the room, leaving me alone to get lost in my thoughts.
If Jaz blamed me, and I blamed her, and we were both wrong…where did that leave us? Where could that leave us? At this point, there probably wasn’t an us to begin with, not after everything.
The room grew silent, and it was nearly overpowering. My shoulders felt heavy, and I knew I should get up and leave, just go. Seeing Jaz, talking to her, it wouldn’t end well. Nothing between us had ever ended well. Brittany was dead, and the police were still looking for her body. Jaz was their prime suspect, even if she had Oliver Fitzpatrick on her side. Ryan and his friends were dead, too. We’d started our whole relationship on a lie because I’d wanted to feel something real.
No, I didn’t think there was any going back for us. No starting over, no redo. This wasn’t a videogame; you couldn’t hit the restart button and begin everything anew. Life just wasn’t like that.
By the time I’d finally decided to leave, that it was better for all of us if I didn’t talk to Jaz, I nearly walked right into the girl herself.
I immediately took a step back, my body warming in what I could only describe as confusion and lust mixed together. I was a walking conundrum, a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and even though I knew it would be best if Jaz and I went our separate ways, I couldn’t help but want the opposite.
How could I go from suspecting her, hating her because she set her dog Dante on me, to craving her so desperately I couldn’t think straight? What the hell was wrong with me?
“Jaz,” I whispered, both feeling and sounding lame. So lame.
Her dark eyes studied me, and I wondered what she saw right then: someone who was confused, someone who wanted to make a mad dash to the front door and leave, or someone who wanted to apologize profusely, even though it was pointless now?
“Ollie said you wanted to talk to me,” Jaz spoke, rubbing her arm. She bit her bottom lip, and I was suddenly struck with the memories of those lips on mine. She and I…we’d never had it easy, and if the past meant anything, we never would. This, us, it was insane. It would never happen.
Besides, if she and Oliver had discussed my possible guilt, other people had to be, too. They wouldn’t be the only ones in town thinking along those lines.
How would it look if, not a week after my girlfriend was murdered, I started dating the alleged murderer? People would start to point at the both of us as the culprits, that maybe we’d done it together and just hadn’t cleaned up well enough after ourselves.
“I, uh…” My tongue was like a brick in my mouth, heavy and hard to wield. I was not the smooth Archer I knew I could be, nor was I partial to smiling these days. It felt like I’d changed so much in so little time…and I’d put all of the blame for that on Jaz’s shoulders, which wasn’t fair. “Maybe you and I should talk. To clear the air.”
“Fine,” Jaz said, “but only if you promise to listen to me. You have a habit of storming away before I can explain things, and I’m tired of it, honestly.” She closed her eyes for a split-second, adding, “I’m tired of all of this.”
That, at least, she and I could agree on. I was tired of this, too.
We went to sit down in the living room. I took up the same spot I’d been in on the couch, while she sat on the chair Oliver had been in. She was barefoot, and she tucked her legs beneath her butt on the cushion. She looked so small, sitting there, not at all like the firecracker she was. So happy and full of life, she had pulled me in from the very first moment we met.
If I’d have known how things would turn out, I…
Damn it. I didn’t know whether I’d do anything differently, because it seemed like the only way I could get her was lying.
No. No more lying. No more running. Something had to give here, and with the way I currently felt, I knew that something would be me. I wanted—no, I needed to talk to her, to do this. To try to let things go. My life was such a shitshow right now, I needed something to hold onto.
When neither one of us spoke, Jaz whispered, “So.”
I rubbed my hands together, echoing her, “So.” Man, talk about awkward. “You and Jacob look pretty close.” Damn it. That was not how I should’ve led this conversation. I realized that the moment I said it, the moment Jaz’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
“We are,” she said. “It’s a sad day when a man I’ve nicknamed Mr. Grumps is nicer to me than you—wait, you haven’t been nice to me since we slept together. Right. I forgot about your priorities.”
I deserved that barb, that and so much more.
Shifting in my seat, I said, “I shouldn’t have kept the truth from you. I am sorry, even if it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Why?” Jaz asked, her voice dry. “Why do that to me? Why bring me to that party knowing everything Brittany was going to do?”
“I didn’t know what she planned on doing, I just knew she was going to do something. I never thought…” I recalled her words in the park, along with what had been repeated to me. “I never thought she’d drug you.” Or me, for that matter. Brittany had been conniving, but I used to think there were lines even she wouldn’t cross.
Again, Jaz questioned, “Why me?”
It had been an accident. It wasn’t like I planned on hooking up with her when we went to my house to study. It wasn’t like I sat down and planned everything out; things had happened on their own. She and I came together, sparks flew, and we both gave in. Yes, all the while I knew I never should’ve let it get to that point, but I was physically unable to stop myself.
I swallowed. “You made me feel…good. I liked your laugh, the twinkle in your eyes, that you were new. You didn’t play the games everyone else in Midpark does. I felt real with you. I could be myself and not have to worry about what I said or did. You made me feel wanted—not like a prized possession like Brittany always treated me. To her, I was a trophy, the thing she wanted for so long and finally was able to take.”
God, it sounded even sillier coming out of my mouth than I intended it to.
