Unspoken Desire JenLisa AU

Chapter 7

Jennie's POV

The bar was dimly lit, the bass of the music thrumming in my chest as I swirled the drink in my hand. I hadn't planned to be here tonight, but after everything that had happened with Lisa earlier-the shouting, the kiss, her cruel words-I needed to escape. My thoughts were a tangled mess, and the alcohol was supposed to help numb them.

But it didn't.

I hated her. I hated how she always found ways to get under my skin, to make me question everything I thought I knew about myself. Yet here I was, sitting alone in a corner booth, replaying every second of what had transpired earlier.

And that's when I saw her.

Lisa.

She was at the bar, already a few drinks deep judging by the way she swayed slightly on her feet. Her head was tilted back as she laughed at something one of the women beside her said. My fingers tightened around my glass, the ice clinking as I tried to control the heat rising in me.

I told myself to look away. Mind your business, Jennie. This has nothing to do with you.

But I couldn't.

Something was wrong. This wasn't Lisa. She wasn't the kind of person to entertain meaningless flirtation, let alone with multiple women at once. She was usually guarded, private, and reserved. Yet here she was, leaning closer to one of them, a lazy smirk on her face as she said something I couldn't hear.

My chest tightened with an emotion I didn't want to name. Jealousy.

I set my drink down and stood before I could stop myself. My heels clicked against the floor as I approached her. Each step was hesitant but firm, and by the time I reached her, the words were spilling from my lips before I could think.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut through the noise. The women around her turned to me, their gazes curious and annoyed. "I'm Lisa's wife. Can I help you with something?"

The room seemed to still for a moment.

Lisa's head snapped toward me, her eyes widening slightly before a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She didn't correct me. Instead, she leaned back on the barstool, draping her arm over my shoulder and pulling me closer.

"Yeah," she drawled, her voice low and teasing. "My wife's here. Maybe you all should leave us alone."

Her hand slid to my waist, warm and possessive, and I could feel the heat of her body against mine. My heart pounded, my breath catching as I tried to process what was happening.

The other women exchanged looks before backing off, their disdainful glares burning into me. But I didn't care. There was a strange, twisted satisfaction in seeing them leave, in knowing Lisa was here with me now.

Even if it wasn't real.

Once they were gone, I turned to her, forcing her hand off me. "What the hell are you doing, Lisa?" I demanded, my voice low but firm.

She shrugged, reaching for her drink and taking a long sip. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Don't play games with me," I snapped, stepping closer. "This isn't you. What's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

Lisa didn't answer. Her eyes avoided mine, focusing instead on the rim of her glass.

"Lisa." My voice softened, worry creeping into it despite myself. "I'm serious. What's wrong? You can't just-"

"I'm fine," she cut me off, her voice sharper than I expected.

"No, you're not," I said firmly. "I know you, Lisa. And this-" I gestured to the empty barstools around us-"this isn't you."