The Green Eyed Monster

Ch. 9

I play with Cat's hair, swirling the ruby strands and making little braids, or just stroking the soft locks. It really is a nice colour. You'd think it would be too bright, too much, but she makes it work. I couldn't pull it off. I'd get sick of it too quick though. Cat's been quiet, her eyes focused mostly downwards, and she seems spacier than usual, jumping when I kissed her. Apart from the various dramas this week, school is actually turning out great. Our last class of the day is cancelled, due to missing Sikowitz, so we're scattered outside, just doing whatever. I pick a nice open place, leading Cat over and sitting down. I like the way the colours come together, Cat's head in my lap, the red contrasting with the green grass and the dark blue of my jeans. It seems to make her glow. But that little furrow is still there, and she toys with a piece of grass, rolling it between her fingers. I think she likes me playing with her hair, or at the very least, doesn't mind it. I hear my message tone and pull out my phone, keeping a hand tangled in her hair. I find it relaxing, personally.

I smile to myself. It's from Beck. 'Why are you with Cat?'

I send him back a message leisurely. No need to hurry. 'Why are you with Tori?'

I know full well where he is, I can feel his eyes boring into me from here. He sits with his arm around her, around Tori, but I don't think he's looked at her once. I've kept my promise so far. I haven't touched Cat out of his sight. I have no idea whether she's noticed, or if she's even noticed he's there at all. But I swear I saw her eyes flick over to him at one point, that little furrow getting deeper.

As much as I hate experiencing jealousy, I sure do love causing it in others. There's just something so fulfilling about having something you know someone else is dying to have. Even if it's yourself. Especially if it's yourself. I put my phone back in my pocket, my hand brushing something hard and round in my pocket. I frown for a moment before remembering.

"Oh, hey. I got you this." I pull out a lollipop. Strawberry, I think. That little wrinkle between Cat's eyebrows disappears, and her eyes light up, a hand reaching to grab the lollipop. I pull it away from her, and she frowns, rolling over and looking up at me. "You didn't say thank you." I smirk, pulling Cat in towards me. When I kiss her... it's different. Before... she put everything into it, like it was the most real thing in the world, like there was nothing else on her mind, but this... this is distracted, and she's responding almost absently, automatically, and I press my lips to her harder, trying to get a response, trying to get what I felt before. She pulls back, taking the lollipop wordlessly and popping it into her mouth, a faint smile directed at me. I keep the frown from my face, sneaking a glance at Beck. I feel Cat's eyes on me and turn my gaze to her again, stroking her hair reassuringly, her head back in my lap.

She's quiet. Way too quiet. Even given that's she's sucking on a lollipop. I sigh finally, curling my fingers in her hair. "What's wrong?"

Cat's chocolatey eyes flick over to me. She gives the lollipop another tentative lick before responding. "Nothing, just..."

"Thinky." I finish for her.

Cat stares at me for a moment. "You don't have to worry about me, you know." I feel a rush of indignation. What? She should be grateful I'm even asking. I never ask anyone if they're okay, I don't care if anyone's okay or not. I just hate seeing her like this... all quiet and serious. I feel the indignation die away, because her tone... it wasn't annoyed, or reprimanding... it was like she was informing me, telling me I didn't have to bother, that I didn't have to bring myself to ask because it wasn't worth it. She sounds how I used to feel - dismissive of herself.

Before I can stop myself, before I can think of whether I should, I find myself saying, "But I do. I do worry." I bite my lip. Stupid! Why did you say that? It's... it's true... but I shouldn't... why shouldn't I? I don't care. But I do care, especially when I see the tears welling in Cat's eyes, threatening to spill over. Her eyes flick over to Beck before coming back to me.

"Jade? I- I don't want to make a scene. Can... can you take me to the bathroom?" Her voice is soft, punctuated by sharp little breaths she uses to gasp for air, trying not to break down. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't alarmed, that it didn't hurt me to see her this way, all because I admit I worry about her, that I care about how she is. I nod tersely and help her stand, taking the lollipop from her and slipping an arm around her waist. It's not like her to care about 'making a scene'. I know for a fact she doesn't care, she doesn't really care what anyone thinks. My mind is churning, thoughts spinning around, trying to figure out where this has come from. Cat's always had mood swings, but they've never been this... intense, this easily triggered. And what's more, it's not even really a mood swing; she's been like this since yesterday, all quiet and serious. As we walk I can feel her shaking, starting to break down more and more, the further away from the others we get. It's making me worry, and I don't like worrying because I can't do anything about it. This is why I hate caring, because you can't fix people when they break, and you feel like you should be able to, like there's some magic thing you should be able to do, if only you cared enough, and it's your fault they're broken. I hate it, and I hate this thing that's swelling inside me, making me want to hug her.

We get to the bathroom finally, Cat taking little sips of air, quiet sobs racking her body, and I fucking hate this. It's tearing me apart and making me feel useless and sick. I can't bear to see this, it's making me so goddamn uncomfortable, so I draw her into a hug, gripping her tightly. She's so small, so fragile, and I keep being reminded of this. Her face is buried into my shirt, and I start to feel hot tears dampen the material, but at least I don't have to see her crying any more.

Girls. I don't understand them. I have no idea why she's crying, not this much anyway. I find myself making comforting noises, soothing her, stroking her hair, even kissing her forehead. I have no idea what I'm doing, but it makes her shaking start to subside, only little tremors running through her every now and then.

She lifts her head finally, her cheeks wet with tears, and I brush them away with gentle fingers. I'm not heartless; I don't like seeing her cry. Cat takes a shivery breath when I touch her, and then she's kissing me, pushing me back, and there's that fire I didn't feel before, that complete absorption. She takes my breath away, and she moves me back into the bathroom wall, and there's a part of me that's reminding me that I'm not in front of Beck right now, but a bigger part of me is just wanting her to keep kissing me, to keep making me feel this thing I was missing. Her lips are soft and damp, salty with tears, but the inside of her mouth tastes like strawberries. And when I trace my tongue around her mouth, brush it over her own slick tongue, she moans throatily, and I feel my hips jerk into her in response. She presses against me harder, and the bathroom wall is cold against my back, and she's so warm, her hands hot on my skin, pushing my shirt up.

I'm completely overwhelmed. It's always been me who took charge, me who took things further, and I find myself helpless against Cat's onslaught, overcome by the sensation of her lips, her hands, her whole body. She's never done this, never been this forceful, she's always been sweet and gentle, slow and sensual; but this is desperate, wanting, and it's making me gasp in response. I don't know what's come over her, what's made her this bold, but it's not in my power to stop her, and if I wasn't so overwhelmed, I'd be concerned.

I jump when her hands move up along my stomach, brushing over my ribs, and Cat moans again, reaching my breasts. And that moan, it makes me melt, because it's so goddamn sensual and it's like pinpricks down my spine. I hate this. I hate that I've lost control, that I'm being so shameless in my responses, my reactions, and I hate more than anything that I don't care about any of that, that all I want is for Cat to keep going to keep this feeling inside me alive. This hot, burning, consuming feeling that's driving me insane. Her fingertips flick over my nipples, the material of my bra teasing them even more with it's roughness, and I can't stop her name from slipping out of my mouth. I hear Cat take a sharp breath, and she pulls herself off me, her hands retracting from underneath my shirt.

Cat's stammering out an apology I don't hear, as I try to see that shifting, elusive emotion in her eyes, that's warped and disguised by her tears, her refusal to look to at me. It's important. I don't know what I'm looking for, what I'm expecting to find, but I'm searching anyway, because there is something there, I can feel it. And then she's gone, and I wish that I had stopped her, made her tell me what was going on. I put a hand to my stomach, alone in the sterile bathroom, and wonder what this churning is that's raging inside me; that makes me feel sick and dizzy.

I need to talk to her.

A/n~
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