"Merry Christmas, Blythe," Mother says with a smile as she hands me a large, packaged, rectangular, box.
"What's this?" I shift somewhat uncomfortably. I'd already received every present I'd asked for so the extra causes me unease.
"Just open it, darling," She smiles and leans into my father, who looks as equally confused.
I slowly undo the bow around the top and easily tear the wrapping paper. Beneath the garnish is a red velvet box.
"Open it," She urges me, the excitement pooling in her eyes.
I carefully push open the lid and am met with a plunged, appliqued, white dress top.
"Mother-" I begin, fear slightly tainting my voice.
"It's your dress!" She claps her hands together with the largest grin I've ever seen on her face. "I know we were going to pick it out together, but I saw it a few weeks ago and just knew it was the one!" She shrieks. "It's couture!"
"I can see that," I mumble, playing with the appliques on the top.
"Well, honey, pull it out!" She urges me and I stand from my sitting position, pulling the dress with me as I go. It's long and somewhat poofy, with a thin brown ribbon belt and a shimmery bottom. The back is out and it has two small sleeves.
"It's beautiful, Mother," I say, my voice still tainted with disappointment.
"I'm so glad you like it!" If she notices my dislike, she ignores it. "We have to get it covered and hung up immediately! Anna-Louis!" She shouts as she moves quickly into the foyer, her silk robe billowing behind her.
I smooth out the velvet fabric of my Santa-like nightie and pull my black robe tighter around my body. My father clears his throat and straightens his plaid pajamas as well before standing and retrieving another package from under the tree- a manila envelope.
"Your mother was so worried about the big presents that she didn't even notice this one," He hands it to me and kisses my head. "Merry Christmas, Blythe."
I scrunch my brow at my father's odd behavior and begin to tear into the envelope as he walks away.
Inside is a thick packet, a felt flag, and a few other small trinkets. Puzzled, I read the first line of the packet:
To a Miss Blythe Ragin:
You have been accepted into Yale University.
I stop reading, my heart pounding in my chest. An early acceptance letter? I read on and become more and more thrilled by the second.
"I got in," I murmur to myself. "I got in."
"I got in!" I shout, before remembering that it would be best if Mother didn't know about this.
I quickly shove the contents back into the envelope and slip on my snow boots and black wool beret.
"Mother! Father! I'm heading out!" I call.
"Where to?" Mother rounds the corner and looks dumbfounded at my appearance. "Blythe, you can't go out like that, it's improper!"
"I'm not getting out anywhere," I lie. "I'm going to enjoy the sight of the snow and Christmas decorations, is all."
Father's eyes settle on me, a knowing look within them. I shift mine from his to Mother's, who appears somewhat agitated.
"Maybe you could call Daniel to take you?" Mother presses and I instantly resist.
"I would like to have some alone time," I walk past them both and toward the garage.
Neither say a word as I go, but I can feel Mother's disappointment-which I ignore.
I snatch my keys off the key hanger in the garage and slide into my car. I remotely open the garage door and slowly drive out, being careful of the ice on the ground.
I take a left and start on my way to Brooklyn, excitement and nervousness bubbling up within me.
♔
This is where the nervousness comes in.
I stand in front of Jesse's door, my hand raised to knock. I can't bring myself to, however. We haven't seen each other or even spoken since the night of the gala.
Twenty-four days- it's been twenty-four days since I've seen him.
What do I do now? Just waltz in there and pretend as if nothing happened?
No, I can't do that, but he's the only one I really want to tell about my acceptance. Not seeing him has pained me immensely, but I figured I must have done something to upset him if he hasn't called.
Or, maybe he's just done with me. Maybe he used me up and wrung me out as much as he could before he became tired of me. Tears prick my eyes at the thought but I will them away and muster up the courage to knock.
An unknown girl answers the door in just a large t-shirt, her cat-like eyes looking me up and down. I notice many other people packed into the tiny apartment, all seemingly drunk or high. "Who are you?" She hisses, her eyes turning into slits.
I refrain from asking her the same question. Is she one of Jesse's... regulars?
"I-" I begin, but Cam calls my name from inside.
"You're here!" He shoves her to the side, pulls me inside, and into a big bear-hug. "I've missed you." He gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek and I scrunch my nose up in disgust and wipe it off.
"Is Jesse here?" I say lowly so that none of his other houseguests will hear me. I don't want to come off as a desperate girl trailing at Jesse's feet, now do I?
"Yeah," He pulls away, "he's in his room... alone."
I nod at him and begin to go, but he catches my arm, "The girl wasn't here with Jesse-she's with me, in case you were wondering."
Relief floods through me but I don't show it. "Alright," I state then hurriedly pass the crowd and venture down the small hallway until I'm standing in front of Jesse's door. There's silence coming from the inside and I almost wonder if he's asleep.
I knock lightly, but there's no answer so I bravely push open the thin wood and enter into the space. It's dimly lit by his night table lamp and he's sitting on the edge of the bed facing the bathroom-away from me.
"Cam, for the last time, leave-me-alone-" He grunts, but I interrupt him.
"It's not Cam."
He stiffens and barely throws me a look over his shoulder.
"Blythe," He says, my name like a curse on his lips, "what are you doing here?"
"Merry Christmas," I say, removing my beret and boots and beginning to untie my robe.
"Stop," he orders, still looking ahead.
"Why?" I question, my fingers stilling for a split moment before they continue to remove my robe.
I allow it to billow to the ground, leaving me in only my Santa-like nightie. "I brought you a present," I slowly step toward him.
"Keep it," He growls. "I'm sure your fiancé would like it."
I stop walking and shake my head at him, "Don't be like this, Jesse."
"Be like what, Blythe? Realistic? I stopped calling and I thought you'd gotten the message, but apparently not," He stands up and whips around to look at me. "I don't want to see you anymore. Don't you get it? You're getting married. You're a spoiled heiress. You have issues. I don't have the time or care to be involved in all of your dramatics. Therefore, I don't want to see you anymore."
"Stop," I say weakly, crossing my arms over my midsection, "you don't mean it."
"I do," He stares into my eyes from across the room. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't. Now, get out-and don't come back."
He turns back around but I don't move.
"No," I say lowly and he stops.
"What?" He turns around slowly, looking like a provoked animal.
"I said, 'no'," I say a little stronger and take a step toward his bed. "I'm not leaving."
"Blythe, I swear, if you don't get out now-" He yells, but I stop him.
"You'll what? What will you do?" I cross my arms over my chest and move toward the bed, toward him. "I'm sick of this. You're hot and cold. You can't make up your freaking mind! I tell you that I am not marrying Daniel-we aren't even in a relationship from my point of view-but you, for some reason, still have an issue with being with me. Do you just not like me? If you don't, then just tell me that, not some excuse about being a cheater because everyone knows that you would ruin a relationship for your own personal pleasure."
He growls underneath his breath and whips around on the bed, ready to pounce on me. He grips me by the shoulders as if to push me away, but I push his hands off and press hard against his shoulders.
He falls onto his back and I climb atop him, pinning down his wrists with my hands. Obviously, if he wanted, he could easily overpower me, but he makes no moves. We're both breathing somewhat heavily as we stare into each others' eyes.
"I didn't know you were so kinky, Blythe," He murmurs out, a sneer forming on his mouth.
"Shut up," I order, my hair hanging beside his face.
"Bossy," He retorts, still staring into my eyes.
"Can you be a normal person with normal feelings for two seconds?"
"I am being a normal person, Blythe. You're not used to genuine interactions because you don't live in the real world. You live in the riches and high-end fashion world. I live in the slums-there's nothing more genuine about my world and me and my feelings." His voice becomes more callous as he speaks.
When he finishes, I exhale a short breath, look away, then look back to him, "Are you done?"
"I am far from done-"
"My turn to talk, hood-rat," I interrupt him and push harder on his wrists. "If you're trying to hurt my feelings and make me cry so I'll leave, you have another thing coming. I am not going to cry and I am not going to leave. There is something here, so I'm not going."
"There's nothing here, Blythe. I don't owe you anything. If I wanted a relationship, then I would be in one. This isn't a relationship. This is just screwing around. It's supposed to be fun, but it's becoming a hassle for me because your emotions are clouding your view of me. That is why this is over-not only because you have a fiancé."
Tears prick the back of my eyes but I force myself to swallow them down. I scoff instead, "I wouldn't be human if I didn't feel something for you, Jesse. We're having sex-that's an intimate thing. I would have to be emotionally dead to not feel anything at all. Some of us don't have the emotional capacity of a rock."
"Listen here-" He begins, his volume elevated, when the door bursts open and light streams in. Cam stands there, a large smirk on his face as he spots us.
"You guys make up yet?"
I groan and throw a pillow from the bed at him. He dodges it with a laugh, "C'mon, B, don't be mean."
"Don't worry-she was just leaving," Jesse says, his voice harsh.
"Uh, no I'm not," I state a matter-of-factly.
"Yes, you are."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Ye-"
"Jesus, you two are like children. Just make up already," Cam laughs again and shuts the door, once again blanketing us in darkness except for the dim glow of Jesse's lamp.
"He's right, you're behaving like a child," Jesse snaps from under me and I roll my eyes.
"You are being a child," I flip it back around.
"Why? Just because I don't want to be with you?" He shoots back and I sigh.
"You don't want to be with me? Fine, fine. I give up," I throw my hands up and begin to climb off him but he holds my hips in place. I look down at him questioningly.
"You've made it clear you don't want to be with me in any capacity, let me go," I murmur, the tears actually pooling my eyes this time.
He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't let go either.
"Jesse," I say a little stronger, my hands clasping onto the top of his, "please-"
In an instant, he's flipped me over onto my back and has my wrists pinned.
"And just like that, the predator becomes the prey," He huskily whispers, his dark hair hanging in his eyes.
"Let go," I weakly thrash in his hold.
He leans down until he's a hairsbreadth away from me. He rubs his nose down mine and the gesture seems to be comforting. His breath skates across my lips and I drink him in, thinking this will be the last time I'm ever this close to him.
Our sweet moment is destroyed when he leans down and bites my bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. I cry out and yank my head away, pressing my fingertips against the swell of blood forming on my mouth.
"Why did you do that?" I demand, a metallic taste flooding through my mouth.
"That's who I am, Blythe," He mumbles, drawing the tip of his nose against my cheek and down to my neck. "It's like dancing with fire-it's beautiful and bright from far away, but when you get too close, you get burned."
I scoff, "So you think I think you're beautiful and bright? Maybe beautiful, but not bright. Since the moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were dark. I knew you were blackened on the inside but I didn't—and don't—care. Jesse, if I wanted to be with someone perfect and cheery, I would be. But you-"
"Are you an emotional sadist? Do you like being hurt continuously? Do you get off on it? Because that's all you're going to get from me—pain," He fires back.
"Don't you think I know that? I know that, but for some reason, I can't stay away from you," I state, my voice slowly waning into a beg. "Please, don't make me stay away from you."
"Am I really that addictive that I've reduced Miss Blythe Ragin, elitist of the year, to begging?" He mocks me and I push against his hold on me.
"I-"
"Ah," He holds a finger in my face, signaling for me to shut it. "I didn't say I didn't like it."
"Of course you like it," I shake my head. "It feeds your ego."
He cocks his head to one side, "Yes, it does... but that doesn't mean it's not having the intended effect."
"I don't want you to be with me just because I beg," I look away from him but he grabs my jaw and forces me to look him in the eyes.
"That wouldn't be the only reason," He narrows his eyes at me.
I sigh and relax under his strong grasp. "I'm going to let you go now," He murmurs.
"Alright," I whisper and he releases my wrists. I slowly rub each one and he sits back on his haunches, watching me like a hawk does a mouse.
I sit up as well. I go to pull up my nightie, but he grasps my wrist and lowers it back to my lap. I curl my legs in, my knees touching his.
He takes a deep breath and groans, "I need a cigarette."
He leans forward on his knees, his shirt brushing against my chest, and grabs a pack of cigarettes and a lighter off his night table. He pulls one out, places it in his mouth and flicks the switch on the lighter until it blazes and burns the end of the cigarette.
Smoke pools into the room and around us as he puffs on it, sucking in deeply and blowing the excess into my face.
He's done this so much that it doesn't even bother me anymore. I sit there, unflinchingly, as he stares at me and smokes.
"I don't—" I start, but he hushes me and puts his cigarette out on the ashtray on the night table. When he leans back, he stops his face right in front of mine.
"I want to be with you, Blythe," He mumbles, the smoke lingering on his breath, "but don't make a big deal about it."
"Be with me?"
"Sexually... And maybe emotionally," He expounds. "I'll need some time to get used to the emotional aspect of it, since I have the emotional capacity of a rock, apparently."
A small smile breaks across my face. It isn't exactly what I wanted to hear, but it's close enough. At least he's trying. At least he isn't sending me away empty-handed and broken.
I loop my arms around his neck and scoot closer, unfurling my legs and wrapping them around his midsection. I plant my lips on his firmly and kiss him with so much vigor that it makes me a little dizzy.
He laughs against my mouth and I look at him. I love it when he smiles.
I kiss him again and he welcomes it, tongue dancing with my own.
He pulls back, "Merry Christmas to me."