Rewrite The Future

Chapter 27: Jessica's POV

I feel like shit. Complete. Utter. Shit. It's as if I walked out of Dean's dorm this afternoon and left my heart bleeding on his carpet. Once I texted Wes to let him know I'd gone through with the breakup, I thought he would at least have the decency to let me cry myself to sleep tonight but like always I put too much faith in him. Less than an hour later I had received not one but seven text messages demanding my attendance in the pub tonight. My first instinct was to tell him to go to hell, but I thought better of it, knowing the power he holds over Dean's family. So instead, I forced myself to get ready. I put on my favourite black skirt tonight especially for him because I know how much he despises it. I had worn it to a birthday party sometime last year and he had told me and I quote 'not to dress like a tart in front of his friends'. I haven't worn it around him since. Until tonight. When I arrived outside the pub, my black mini skirt on full display, I had to stifle a smile when I saw the look of rage on his face. He knew better than to say anything about it though, he was lucky I even showed tonight. But when I scan the crowded bar and my eyes land on a familiar 6-foot-4 rugby player, I wish I had gone through with my original plan of telling Wes to go to hell.

From across the room, my eyes trail over every sculpted inch of Dean's perfect body before landing on his face. There is no hiding the pain in his eyes when he looks at me. I work hard to swallow down the lump in my throat as all of the emotions from earlier come rushing back in full force. I force myself to break eye contact and that's when I notice the two girls clinging to his side. They are both gorgeous and confident and are hanging onto every word that leaves Dean's perfect lips. The bartender approaches them, lining up shot glasses on the countertop. They sling them back in sync before Dean spins around heading back to his booth with the two girls trailing behind him like lost puppies. I force myself to put any thoughts of Dean to the back of my mind. I know that it is the only way for me to survive tonight. Obsessing over him with other girls will only send me spiralling.

I reluctantly take a seat between Wes and Jacob and judging by how close Wes pulls me to his side and the soar look on his face, I'm guessing he is well aware of where my mind has gone. I resist the urge to pull away from him, even though his touch makes my skin itch. "Forget about him already would you!" He growls down at me, low enough so that none of his friends can hear.

"Gosh. Why didn't I think of that? Thanks for the solid advice, Wes." I sass back while painting the fakest smile on my face.

"Don't test me, Jessica," He replies while snuggling his face into the side of my neck and rubbing his hand up my bare thigh. The smell of his dinner assaults my nostrils and I suddenly reconsider whether wearing my shortest skirt was the best idea when he is palming my legs with his sweaty hands.

"Isn't it great to have the band back together!" Jacob exclaims from beside me. "It's been so long since we all hung out."

Hannah chuckles from across the table and I can't say I'm far behind her. This whole thing is crazy, I don't know how any of them are going along with it. "It's the best," Logan agrees. "So good to see you and Wes back together, Jess." His eyes lock with mine, waiting for a response.

"I really can't believe it," I mutter, knowing Wes won't want me to tell his friends what is going on but not being able to lie.

Thankfully, Hannah takes over the conversation, taking the spotlight away from me. I sit there for God knows how long, completely oblivious as to what they are talking about. I intently watch each of the people that I have grown to despise and wish I could say all of the nasty thoughts running through my head out loud.

As much as I am extremely uncomfortable in this situation, I think that Lauren might have me beat. She is sitting on the edge of the booth, so far off she is having to grip onto Logan's bicep to stop herself from falling on her ass. She keeps throwing glances my way but whenever I catch her looking, she sheepishly drops her eyes to the table. She hasn't added much to the conversation either and the hurt look in her eyes as she watches Wes rub my thigh, almost has me feeling sorry for her. If anything, I pity the girl. I once fell for Wes and know how easy it is to believe the person he paints himself to be. But I know that I never would have backstabbed her the way she did me, no matter how many lies Wes fed me. And that is the difference between us. She had me as a friend and she blew it. Maybe a better person could move past it, but that person isn't me.

I've only been in the pub for 2 hours, but I have felt every painstaking slow second of it. Being squished in the middle of the booth listening to the boys talk nonsense while the girls bitch is the equivalent of listening to nails scrap down a chalkboard. And to make matters worse, from where I am sitting, I have the perfect view of Dean's group chatting and laughing amongst themselves. It has taken serious effort to force myself to remain seated and avoid going over there. My heart almost jumped out of my chest when I watched an obviously drunk Dean stumble from the booth pulling a stunning redhead with him. He led her out onto the dancefloor, and I have been forced to watch the two practically dry-hump each other for the past twenty minutes. I deserve it, this is all my fault so I can't even be mad at him. But fuck if it isn't shattering the fragile broken pieces of my heart into a million smaller ones. Deciding to allow myself a reprieve from this self-induced torture, I abruptly stand, muttering an excuse about getting another drink to Wes, before slipping out. I can feel his eyes drilling into my back as he watches me walk away from him and instantly know that my original plan of going to cry in the bathroom is out. He's a pathetic excuse for a man. I can't have two fucking seconds on my own. Muttering a few colourful curse words meant for Wes under my breath, I reluctantly drag my feet to the bar, ordering a Coke.

I turn back to see Wes in deep conversation with a girl who was sitting in the booth across from us. She is now taking up my vacant spot at Wes's side and he seems more interested in what is spilling out of her low-cut top rather than what's coming from her mouth. Fucking asshole.

"Well, don't you two seem very cosy."

I spin around to see Dean mere inches from me with a mix of hurt and anger morphing his expression.

"Dean...I..."

"Save it, Jess. It's pretty fucking clear what's happening here. You really had me fooled, you know." He lets out a sad laugh that brings tears to my eyes. "I can't believe I convinced myself that you could love me." His words are slurred but there's no doubt in my mind that he believes everything he is saying. My beautiful, caring, honest boy believes that it is possible for me to not love him. My heart physically aches at the thought. It would be easier to stop breathing than to stop loving him.

"Dean, please believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt you." I plead with him, wishing I could say so much more.

"Well, you've done a really shit job, Whiskey." Hearing his nickname for me now only brings me pain.

"Dean," I whisper, reaching out for him. I flinch when he pulls away as if my hand is on fire. "I'm sorry," I say defeated as I drop my arm back down to my side.

"You better get back to your boyfriend. He doesn't look so happy." He practically hisses. I turn to see Wes glaring at us as he begins to rise from his seat. When I turn around to say God knows what to Dean, he is already halfway across the bar walking back towards his booth.

I walk back to Wes like a kicked puppy, not even looking up to meet his eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" He growls at me.

I don't bother stopping to give him a proper answer as I reach for my jacket, slinging it over my shoulders. "Just take me home," I mutter completely defeated.