A Girl Named Sweetie

8. The Dance

Jake's POV

Too close.

I'm getting too close.

Two nights ago, she started fucking sobbing in my house. Not only that, but I held her. I actually held her. It's fucking ridiculous. Who does that? The entire weekend afterwards, I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror.

On an even weirder note, my father was gone this morning. That in itself isn't atypical, but when I checked his room for the occasional slut, most of his shit was gone. Not that I'm complaining.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as I turn into the school parking lot, squinting a bit as the morning sun shines harshly, unknowingly, through the grey clouds.

As I pull my car into my unassigned parking space marked by faded white lines, I hear a screech through my permanently-rolled-down passenger window.

"You did what?"

"I know," another voice groans.

Fuck, I know that voice. I turn to see her covering her face with her hands, standing next to some other girl with blonde hair.

"You don't just go to Jacob Harrison's house and start crying. I go to Hawaii for a single fucking week—"

"Language, Lily!" she interjects, just to be cut off.

"A fucking week, and all of a sudden you're crying in his house! And since when do you talk to him? Oh God, did you two fuck? You totally fucked! But Sweetie, you're the virginiest virgin in virgin town - is he into that shit?"

"We didn't... n-no, we didn't do... that," she finishes, and I can see her blushing all the way from here.

Then, as if in slow motion, the blonde turns her head ever so slightly, only to see me sitting there, frozen in time. Her eyes go wide, and without breaking her stare, she nudges Sweetie. Soon, I see her doe eyes staring up at me through thick lashes.

We stay like that for about thirty seconds, me staring at them, them staring at me, the blonde jostling Sweetie with her elbow for what feels like an eternity.

Slowly, the blonde disappears, and so does the rest of the world. It's just me looking at her, her looking at me.

Keeping my stare locked, I push open my car door, and slide off of my seat until my feet hit the cool asphalt. I take careful steps toward her as a few drops of water fall from the sky, splattering the pavement.

"Sweetie, a word?" I ask once I reach her, everything else coming into focus as I notice the dirty looks that the blonde is shooting me.

"Listen, Jake. I know about you. I know everything you do, and if you think that you're going to—"

"Lily, its okay. Really," Sweetie assures her, gently shoving her in the direction of the doors.

I get one more glare before the blonde whispers something into Sweetie's ear and stomps off into the school without looking back.

I scratch the back of my head, now avoiding her eyes.

"It can't happen again," I say finally, resisting the urge to look at her.

I'm not overreacting, she shouldn't have come to my house. That's how people get hurt. They get too attached, too invested, and it always ends up the same. Besides, we barely know each other, so there's no way I could actually care about her. Right?

"I just... I didn't know where to go, a-and... I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad, I can ask Ms. Smith about switching partners. I'm... sorry. So, so sorry," she rambles, and I can practically feel her hands fidgeting as she continues to speak.

Why is she apologizing?

I hear every individual raindrop land on the ground as the clouds get darker. I hear a voice in my head yelling at me, screaming that I have to say something. I hear her whisper to herself, and for some reason, I want nothing more than to know what she's saying.

I want to know what's happening in her mind.

"Why do you apologize so much?" I blurt out before I can stop myself, silently cursing for not ending the conversation.

Finally gathering the - I don't know, I guess it's courage - too look at her, I find myself unable to read her face.

"I don't know."

"You don't have to do it. You can curse, you know. I mean, you did it last night, and the sky didn't exactly fall. Just... live, I guess," it's my turn to look at my shoes now, not wanting to see whatever expression of hers finds it's way into my head this time.

I stay like that, staring down, and she remains silent. As the background noise of a soft drizzle turns into the crackling of a full on storm, I make the decision to break whatever trance we're in when the thunder starts in the distance.

"Come on. It's raining," I say plainly, making an attempt to grab her arm so that I can bring her inside, away from the harsh weather.

She pulls away from me, starting in the other direction towards the middle of the parking lot as the water binds her dress to her skin.

Then, as if she's fucking insane, she begins to dance. With no music, she just thrashes around, moving more recklessly than I've ever seen anyone move. She starts singing, moving to her own beat, splashing in newly made puddles. Christ, this girl dances like Elaine from Seinfeld, but for some reason I cant stop watching her.

"What are you doing?" I call out, holding my hand above my forehead to shield my eyes from the drops.

She slows down her movement, and changes her singing to a low hum, only interrupted when she gives me her response as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Jake, I'm living."