lost and found | gilinsky

6.2

Jack Johnson

    "You should talk to her," Mallory suggests, parking in front of my house.

"Who?"

"Hannah, dumbass. Who else would I be talking about?"

After Mallory decided to jump out of the car and practically attack Hannah, we went to go see a movie, which turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into four and a half until we got caught and were thrown out of the movie theater and told to never come back.

I'm just glad we weren't arrested. Mallory, on the other hand, was furious with how things panned out.

"That's literally the only movie theater we have here!" She scolded me. 

"Hey, it wasn't only my idea! You went along with it!"

"Only because I felt bad for you and didn't want to leave you by yourself!" 

"Why'd you feel bad for me!?"

"Because you miss Hannah." 

That's where the conversation turned deep and I ended it, but here we are now, saying goodbye, and she felt the need to resurface it.

"See you tomorrow," I state, swerving my body as I attempt to maneuver out of the car.

There's a sudden click and I realize she's locked the door. "Jack..."

"Mal...she doesn't want to talk."

"She doesn't want to talk? Or you don't want to talk?"

"Unlock the door," I plead, not wanting to have this conversation. 

"Not until you unlock your feelings." 

"That was the suckiest line ever," I laugh, falling back into my seat. Mallory's not going to crack anytime soon, I might as well get comfortable.

"It's accurate though," she defends, giving me a look. 

"I get that you're trying to help me out and all, but really. I don't need it." 

"That's a good one considering Hannah was the one who had to get you to reach out to me in the first place, because you didn't have the balls to do it yourself," Mallory argues. 

I bite the inside of my cheek, not having a response for that one - it's the truth. I have a severe problem when it comes to communicating what's going on in my head. I lack in that department.

"I'm not good at this in case you haven't noticed," I remind her.

"Oh I've noticed," Mallory assures me. "I did date you for almost a year in case you've forgotten."

I sense a bit of venom in her tone and instantly feel guilty for everything I've put her through. "Of course I haven't forgotten. How could I?"

She frowns, pulling away as I reach up to touch her cheek. "I don't need your pity right now." 

"Pity?" I echo, my eyebrows pulling together. 

"Yes, pity," she hisses, adverting her eyes to the dashboard. "You always give me pity touches or pity kisses or pity sex whenever you feel bad about something. I'm just as bad as you are for accepting it for so long, but now I'm speaking up to say knock it off already. We both need to move on."

I'm taken back by her sudden anger, not knowing where it's coming from. Running my hands through my hair I stare out at the trees. It really is awful to admit it, but I can see exactly where she's coming from.