*Jack's POV*
I am on top of the world. The girl of my dreams actually likes me. She likes me. I've been freaking out since our kiss, and the kisses that followed. Tingles where her fingers had been on my neck still lingered. I had succeeded. Jenna and I had succeeded. She's going to be so excited when I tell her. I am going to tell her everything. I'm going to tell her about Julietband I had gone for lunch, how she hand held my hands at the table, how she had kissed me whe we said goodbye. Now I understand why when Rin got home from being at Cassadee's he'd have that giddy, nervous look on his face. I feel amazing. I feel in love.
I couldn't wait 'till tommorow when I could tell Jenna and the others. The guys would be happy for me, and Jenna would be extatic because it worked. Our plan worked. I had gone to her bus after Juliet had said her goodbyes, but no one had answered the door. So now I'm lying on my bed, staring at the alarm clock in happiness and awe. Eight-thirty. I let myself laugh a little. It only seems fair, I am allowed to freak out once in a while.
Alex, Rian and Cassadee have gone out for dinner, they left after I got back. And Zack is out with Hayley and her two friends. That leaves me and the lingering feeling of happiness. I shut my eyes, ready to let myself fall into a content sleep when I hear it.
"Open you fucker! Ha-open! Jaaaaa-hiccup-cckkk!" Someone yells in a slurred voice. My eyes shoot open. Who the hell is that? They sound like they've down a bottle of Jack Daniel's. I get up and hurry to the front door. When I open it I am shocked. It's Jenna, in pajama pants and a flimsy white tank top, drenched in liquid so that you can see straight through it. So that you cant he bright pink lace bra behind it. She smiles, a goofy, intoxicated smile.
"Where the fuck is Jack? I need to speak to... him. A little Mano-eh-mano?" She slurrs. As she talks she sways, her bloodshot eyes wondering around my body as if she doesn't know who I am or what to do with me.
"Jenna, what the hell happened to you? Get inside." I say, tryining to usher her inside. She nods dizzily and stumbles into the bus, grabbing onto my shirt for balance. She can hardly walk and everytime she stumbles she's set into uncontrollable laughter which turns into laughing psychotically and crying simultaneously. When she gets to the couch she just cries. It's horrible. I don't know what to do - there's no point in trying to comfort her, she doesn't even recognise me. So I make her some coffee to sober her up a bit. And while I do so she talks to herself.
"Where's Jack? I need to talk to him... he needs to know that I-" She starts, but then she's stumbling to the bathroom and being sick in the bathroom. I follow her and hold her hair back for her. Then she sits ont he bathroom floor and smiles sheepishly. I wipe her mouth with a towel. The bathroom is silent for a while whilst she holds her head in her hands. Outside, I can hear the kettle stop boiling, but something about her makes me stay. It's the way she looks so sad, to ashamed or humiliated to look at me, the vulnerability of her state. So I sit down beside her and put my arm around her. She looks at me solemnly.
"Jack would like you...he... woul-d" She says. I laugh at the irony and shake my head.
"He would, would he?" She nods over-exaggertively.
"He would... he like most people. He does. He does." She mutters. She's crying again now, but it seems raw this time. Less noise. Just tears. Silent crying.
"Why did you come here Jenna?" I find myself asking. She is silent for a away, playing with her lips so that they make different shapes.
"I came to tell J-" She pauses, "Jack... how I felt about him." This takes me by surprise. It can't mean anything, she's too drunk to think.
"How you felt about him?" I ask. It can't hurt to find out more.
"Feel! Felt, I meant feeeelt." She giggles. Her smile fades after a while and she starts dozing off. I decide to leave her to sleep but I'm scared that she might drown herself if I leave her in the bathroom so I carry her to the couch and make a bed for her. She hugs the blanket close to her body and smiles to herself in a sleepy haze. I'm about to leave the room when I hear her whisper.
"Because I love him."
This means nothing, I tell myself. She is too drunk to think. She won't remember anything in the morning. But it does make sense. It makes too much sense.
