Valley of the Dolls

(xiv) Bravado

JJ shrugged. "As long as the boat stays afloat," he said.

"Right," Blair scoffed, drowning down the water. She was chugging it to try and get rid of the sudden dryness in her throat. Nervous much? "You're just such a caring person."

"That's me, such a teddy bear. Call me Mr. Softie. I'll be making cookies with sprinkles down at the Kingdom of Caring," he pursed his lips and nodded curtly, a hand over his head.

Blair snorted loudly, caught off guard. "Care Bears references . . . huh."

           "Everyone else has plans and I didn't feel like sitting alone at the Château," he continued. "Or we could take a trip to the Care-a-Lot Cloud if you want."

          The Cameron girl raised a brow and the corner of her lips dipped into a grimace. "What makes you think I didn't have plans?" she inquired, voice hard as stone. And then, when his eyes widened ever-so-slightly, she laughed and shook her head in amusement. "I'm kidding, JJ. I don't have anything," she told him to ease his heart (which no-doubt skipped a beat). "Though I didn't think you'd want to hang out with me, Blair Cameron the pretentious Kook."

          "See, the whole talking-to-yourself-in-the-third-person thing definitely is Kook-behavior," he pointed out, and grinned when she grimaced. "I'm kidding," he said. "And I don't think you're pretentious."

           She leaned against the pristine, ivory-cage walls, and raised her chin almost as if daring him to come closer. "I thought you hated me," she recalled, words velvety.

His were rough, but in an innocent way, almost. It was always like that. "How about we stop pretending that we hate each other, okay, Blair?" he proposed, breathing a little heavier than he had mere seconds ago. Nervous.

"Who said I'm pretending?" She was daring him again.

He knew she was lying; JJ Maybank knew Blair Cameron like the back of his hand, maybe even more. He forgot where the bruises on his knuckles came from sometimes but he never forgot that her right eye twitched when she was nervous or that she picked at her lips whenever she was hiding something. And now? She was lying through her teeth. He knew.

"I know you are," JJ pressed. Blair scoffed and shook her head, but she didn't didn't move and he took it as an invitation to step closer. "I know you never hated me. It was all an act."

"You don't know shit about me," she countered.

He raised a brow incredulously. "Do we need to have this fucking discussion again?"

          She shook her head again and pushed herself off, trying to think about too many things at once. "What if someone heard you, JJ? What if Rafe did? You can't just barge into my house like that," she told him, overwhelmed with her own thoughts.

          "There's no one," JJ sighed, running a hand through his hair. He still had the cut on his cheekbone and the area around it was slowly going from blue to a seasick-greenish. "Trust me," he said, "I'm a pro at hearing footsteps, even in a monster-house like yours. Comes real handy with, uh . . . my dad."

          Blair frowned, then nodded. It made sense. She was wearing a purple crop-top and a pair of white-silk shorts because she, of course, hadn't expected any visitors when she went back home and threw herself in a desperately-need, well-deserved sleep. "Come on then." She wrapped her gold-adorned hand over the cold handle of her door, "let's get something to eat."

           JJ froze, lips parting like a fish out of water. "What?" he raised his brows, confused.

          "What?" she repeated.