After finishing her shower Dahlia wraps a towel around her body and quickly runs back to the bed to check her phone. But Jenna still hasn't answered. Not that she really expected her too, but she had been hoping anyway, and now she feels even worse. She falls back on the bed, and stares up at the ceiling for what seems like the millionth time today.
Her phone buzzes eventually, and she grabs it so fast that she almost falls completely off the bed, but it's only her mom-not Jenna.
Dahlia spends another half hour talking to her, and assuring her that everyone is fine and healthy and that she's not dead. It takes a while to calm her down from her freak out, and then they finally talk about what she's been doing (she leaves out the embarrassing details) and what her mom has been doing. As refreshing as it is to talk to her again, Dahlia doesn't let her know anything's wrong. One because she's already worried enough, and then two because she's not exactly comfortable telling the world Jenna's business.
After reassuring her about ten times that she's okay and everything's going great, they tell each other bye, recite their "I love you"s, and then she's laying on the bed again.
Dahlia checks her phone obsessively, but Jenna never replies. It's about six when she sees the sky getting darker from not only the storm, but the sunset too. She decides to get up and finally do something; not to follow her or annoy her, but just make sure she's okay. She's worried sick.
So she walks outside into the pouring rain, running quickly with his hand over her head to get to Mia and Jordan's bungalow. It doesn't help, really, since she's still soaking wet by the times he gets there, but still.
"Have you guys, um, seen Jenna?" Dahlia asks, crossing her arms uncomfortably as she looks at them. Jordan and Mia are cuddled up at the head of the bed, while Aaliyah is at the foot of it on her phone.
They're watching a horror movie so the lights are out, but she switches the light on to see if Jenna's there anywhere. She isn't.
"She came by like, three movies ago. She looked upset," Aaliyah tells her, shrugging.
"Yeah, she was actually crying I think," Mia tells her, but they don't really seem to care. "But I couldn't really tell since it was raining."
"Did she say anything? Did she tell you where she was going, or what she was doing, or..." Dahlia breathes out then, trying to calm himself down. "I just need to know if she's okay."
"Oh, I think she's more than okay," Aaliyah laughs, pausing the movie and now setting her feet on the floor, looking up at her. "She asked if we had any alcohol-left with a bottle of something."
"And you let her?!" Dahlia exclaims, breathing out and pushing her fingers through her hair. "You knew she was upset, and the weather is god awful, and you just let her take a bottle of alcohol with her and walk out? Did you even ask what was wrong?"
"Relax, Dahlia, she'll be fine," Aaliyah laughs, pressing her hand to her arm. Then, squeezing it slightly and tilting her head to the side, she says, "Just watch a movie with us. She'll be back soon I'm sure."
"She could be passed out alone somewhere from being too drunk, or she could be in this awful weather, or...God, or both!" Dahlia breathes out, pulling her arm from her grip. "I'm gonna call her. Please just let me know if you see or hear anything, okay? I've been worried all day, and I just hoped she had been with you guys."
"We'll let you know," Jordan nods at her, but Aaliyah and Mia still couldn't care less that their sister is practically missing.
"Thanks," Dahlia tells him, before running back to their room. It's still flooding, and there's still thunder and lightning, and Dahlia feels like she could cry she's so upset.
Her hands tremble as she fumbles for her phone, wiping her wet hand against her pants before shakily dialing her number. No answer.
She dials it again, but there's still no answer. She texts her then, saying "Just let me know you're okay."
After fifteen minutes without a text back, she nervously paces around the room, thinking. What can she do? She doesn't want to keep bothering her if she is okay, but she'd never forgive herself if she was in danger and she did nothing to help. Plus, all of this feels ten times worse now that she knows she has alcohol with her.
So Dahlia takes in a nervous breath, grabs a jacket, and makes her way through the front door. She stands there in the rain, pulling her hood over her head, and searches. She glances down past the row of bungalows, but it's getting dark now and he doesn't see her. She's getting ready to make a run for it down the dock, but then she notices something: only one of the bungalows' blinds are closed, and it's one that's not supposed to be occupied.
She takes a second to think "please let Jenna be in there, please let Jenna be in there," before she takes off running. The door's locked when she makes it, and although she knocks on it, she doesn't get an answer.
"Jenna, please, if you're in there...just open up!" She pleads, pounding her fist on the door. "Please!"
But still, nothing. So she runs quickly back to her room, fumbles through her jeans to find her
wallet, and then she goes back to the bungalow.
"I'm coming in!" Dahlia yells, not even sure if she is in there, as she kneels down and jams her library card between the door. It takes a few minutes of jiggling the card and moving it around, but it finally, finally latches open, and she gulps as she walks in, shutting the door behind her. She pushes her old, wet hair out of her face, before flipping the light switch on to illuminate the pitch black room.
"I told you not to follow me," she hears Jenna mutter from the bed, curled up on her side with a half-empty bottle of whiskey under her arm.
"It's been hours," Dahlia gulps, only happy to see her safe . "You didn't call or text, and I went over to your sisters and they said you had alcohol when you left, and..." she stops, hearing her own voice shake. She breathes in. "Besides, I was so worried that it would have beenworth you never forgiving me just to know you were okay."
"You don't have to pretend you care about me," Jenna laughs bitterly, sitting up and loudly setting the bottle down on the nightstand. Her words are slurred and she's swaying everytime she moves, and Dahlia knows she's much drunker than she's ever seen her. "The week's almost over, and you'll get to go back to your apartment and to Maddie and to your mom and all of this will finally be over for you. Just like you wanted."
"Jesus, Jenna, is it so hard to realize that someone couldactually care about you? And care about what happens to you?" Dahlia gulps, slowly walking over to sit beside her on the bed.
"It is hard, actually," she nods with a sad laugh, and she hears her sniffing and sees her wiping the tears from her eyes, and it's gut wrenching. "I'm...sorry about what I said. I don't hate you. You were just right, and I didn't want to face it, and I thought I was going to throw up. I was angry with you for making me realize something that I didn't want to realize. I don't have anyone besides you and Maddie, and I don't even really have either of you. I had to beg you to come on this trip with me."
"Jenna, I didn't even know you then," Dahlia tells her, looking down at her hand. She wants to reach down and grab it in her, comfort her, feel her skin on her, but...she doesn't. "I didn't really know you at all. And I'm sorry about the way I treated you, and the way I talked to you. I didn't...I never knew."
"Don't apologize," Jenna shakes her head, drunkenly moving her hand farther up the bed to steady herself. "I just...I see you and Maddie sometimes, and I see the way you and your mom actually love each other. I've always wanted that. But I don't know how, and I don't know how to be likeable, and I don't know how to care about people the way I should, and I definitely don't know how to get them to care about me."
"I...care about you. A lot," Dahlia breathes out, looking in her eyes as she turns to face her. Then, as an afterthought, she adds: "And...and Maddie does, too. We both care about you."
"You just feel bad for me," she gulps, shaking her head. "There's a difference."
"It's...god, it's not because I feel bad for you, Jenna," Dahlia tells her, trying to rack her brain on ways to prove her wrong. "You may not think you're capable of caring, but you are. When you asked about my fear of heights at the waterfall and told me we could go back down, that's you caring. When you stayed back on the dock to ask me if I was okay because you noticed I was anxious, that's you caring. And me being here now, after being worried sick about you and just hoping and praying that you were okay...that's me caring about you, too."
Tears well up in Jenna's eyes as she looks at her, her eyebrows furrowing sadly. She never has emotions like this when she's sober.
Jenna glances at her lips, then up to her eyes, before leaning in slowly. Dahlia tries to breathe, but can't, as Jenna sets her hand on her arm and messily presses her lips against her. Jenna sighs against her, desperately grasping at her shirt and neck and anything else she can find to pull her closer. But the taste of alcohol on her breath is overwhelming, and it brings Dahlia back to reality, and back to how awful this whole situation is. She feels her stomach turn with guilt.
"We can't," Dahlia pulls back, and she's panting as she looks at her, confusion written all over her face. "Not...not like this."
"But I want you," Jenna mutters over a heavy breath, grabbing her hand and setting it on her thigh, spreading her legs.
"No, Jenna, we can't," Dahlia replies, firmer now as she stands up, pulling her hand away from her. "You kissed me when you were drunk out of your mind. That doesn't mean you want me. You did it because you're plastered, and because I'm being a decent human being to you and you think it means you want me."
"That's not why," Jenna replies simply, quietly, and she looks up at her, and she's already looking at Dahlia. She doesn't explain further, but her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest as she looks at her, giving a tiny, drunken, half-lidded smile.
"Let's...let's go back to our room, okay? You need to get some sleep." Dahlia breathes out, taking her jacket off and putting it around her, before sweeping her up in her arms. Jenna wraps her arms around her neck and sighs contently, nuzzling her face against her collarbone. Dahlia just holds her tighter, as she ducks her head and carries her back to their room.
She brings her into the bathroom and sets her up on the counter, pulling her jacket from her arms and tossing it on the floor. Dahlia doesn't look at her too long, and hedefinitely doesn't look in her eyes; she has a mission, and if she does either of those things, she knows she'll get distracted.
"Dahlia," Jenna presses her hand to her stomach, and Dahlia's eyes widen, before she hurriedly hauls her to the toilet. They make it just in time; Jenna spewing out vomit into it as soon as she makes it. Dahlia leans down and pulls her hair out of her face, turning the other way.
"Shit," she gasps before heaving again, throwing up everything in her stomach. After she's finished, she lays against the wall lazily and Dahlia flushes the toilet.
"I'm gonna get a cold rag," she tells her, going back to the sink and digging a small towel from a cabinet, before drenching it in cold water and wringing it out. Dahlia goes back and sits down in front of her, pressing the cool rag to her forehead, then to her cheeks, then to her neck.
"That feels good," Jenna gulps, her eyes fluttering shut. Dahlia feels like this is all her fault.
"Good," she smiles, watching her. Even now-sweaty and intoxicated and sick-she's still breathtaking.
"I bet you're glad I didn't wait until now to kiss you, huh?" Jenna smiles, her eyes barely open.
"Definitely," she replies with a small laugh, moving the rag back to her forehead. As disgusting as it might be, she probably would still kiss her right now.
"Let's get you ready for bed, okay?" Dahlia tells her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet, and then leading her back to the sink. She brushes her teeth and pulls her hair back, lets her use the bathroom in privacy, and then she helps her to bed-too scared of her staggering movements to let her walk there alone.
"I'm so wet right now," Jenna groans, falling against the end of the bed in exhaustion. "And when I say that, I mean my clothes-not at all in reference to being horny. Although-"
"Shut up," Dahlia laughs and shakes her head, and she smiles too, as she helps her pull her hoodie over her head, and then her sweatpants off her legs.
"I'll grab you some pajamas," Dahlia tells her, throwing her wet clothes in the same pile they had from earlier; except now since she took a shower, they're all stacked up messily on the floor and not in the shower.
"No, I don't want them," Jenna yawns, before sluggishly crawling across the bed, and sighing happily as she makes it under the covers.
"Okay, well at least drink some water," Dahlia tells her, having to open it and hold her head up and give it to her like she did the other night.
"Turn the light off," Jenna tells her, her head sinking into the pillow with another yawn as she twists the cap back onto the top of the water bottle lid.
"Yeah, yeah," she tells her with a laugh, turning it off and climbing into bed herself.
This time Jenna doesn't hesitate; she rolls over to Dahlia and pulls her arm around her, settling it on her stomach. Dahlia's shocked at the sudden contact, but she adjusts fairly quickly, and shifts slightly until she's comfortable. Her face is in her hair, and her arm is tucked securely around her, and their legs are twisted together at the end of the bed.
Not for any other reason than just wanting to be near her, he presses his lips softly against the back of her neck and holds it there for a moment, before pressing another kiss to her bare shoulder. And then he lays his head back down and falls asleep, never knowing he could be this content until right now-while she's laying here messily tangled up with her.