Summary: "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me."
Disclaimer: Don't own Degrassi. 'Nuff said.
Author's Note: A kind of-sort of side story (or sequel) to Challenge. Enjoy!
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The Night Before Christmas
By: Lady Azura
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"Immy, it's Mom. Sorry, but your father and I won't be able to make it home for the holidays. Something important came up. You understand, sweetie. Anyway, if you get lonely, stop by Aunt Lucille's house. Love you!"
Click.
Imogen stared blankly at her phone before snapping it shut and tossing it aside. She would've been angry, but she had long since gotten used to her parents never being around. The sad truth was that they cared more about their jobs than they did her. When she was younger, this used to make her upset, but now it didn't even phase her.
Alone on Christmas?
That wasn't anything new. It wasn't any different from being alone on her birthday, or Thanksgiving, or most of the year.
They checked up on her, of course — every couple of days, by phone. But not because they genuinely cared or missed her. Only to ease any shred of guilt they might have and to reassure themselves that they were good parents. They had an image to maintain, after all.
Imogen sighed, falling back onto her bed and staring up at the ceiling.
She really didn't want to spend the next two days at her aunt's. She didn't want to have to deal with Lucille's stuck up, conformist daughters and she especially didn't want to be anywhere near her aunt's husband. Her first husband had died a while back, but Lucille had been quick to remarry — but Imogen wasn't particularly fond of her "new" uncle. She didn't like the way he seemed to hover over her when she was at their house, or the way his eyes would linger on her. It made her uncomfortable, and it didn't take a genius to know that he was scum. He was nothing but a lousy gold digger who had married her aunt for money. She hoped Lucille had signed a prenup, but she doubted it. Lucille Beauregard was "in love" and in her eyes, her husband could do no wrong.
It was disgusting.
Granted, she herself was no stranger to letting guys — okay, one guy — use her, but at least she had an excuse. She was still a teenager. She was allowed to make stupid mistakes. Lucille was in her mid-forties. There was no reason for her to be acting like a 12-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
Rolling her eyes, Imogen reached over and grabbed her phone. Flipping it open, she began to skim through her list of contacts, debating who to call. She was bored and in need of some amusement.
Fiona was in New York, visiting her family for Christmas, so she was out of the question. Bianca… she hadn't really spoken to Bianca for a while, but knowing her, she was probably at a party or club, getting drunk. Or staying with the Torres's. It was hard to tell with her.
Her eyes fell on Eli's name and she blinked. Was Hanukkah over? She vaguely recalled him telling her that his great grandmother — on Bullfrog's side — was staying with them for a few weeks and that she was really Jewish. Smirking weakly, Imogen sent him a smiley face before scrolling further down, pausing only when she came across a name that didn't quite belong.
Jake Martin? Since when was he on her list?
Better yet, why was he on her list?
She furrowed her brow in confusion, thinking back to earlier that month when he'd kissed her.
A snort erupted from her.
Ever since that day, she had been running into him more often than she would've liked. Everywhere she went, he was there, trying to put the moves on her. He'd sent her three candy grams, and she suspected that the two anonymous ones she'd received just before school let out were also from him. He'd even asked her to the winter dance, which she promptly turned him down for.
She wasn't going to be anyone's rebound.
She'd learned her lesson the first time and she wasn't going to let it happen again.
Pushing those thoughts away, Imogen closed her phone and sat up.
Her stomach growled.
Placing a hand on it, she got out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. After digging through the pantry for about five minutes, she searched the fridge, but nothing appealed to her. She wasn't in the mood for leftover spaghetti or frozen pizza.
"Guess I'm eating out." She murmured to herself, shutting the fridge.
She put her earmuffs on and grabbed her purse and coat, before heading out the door.
oOo
The walk to the Dot took about half an hour, but felt like an eternity, and by the time Imogen arrived, it had started snowing.
'Of course,' she thought bitterly to herself. 'Doesn't snow all month, but the one day I decide to walk anywhere…'
The door chimed as she stepped inside, and immediately she was engulfed by warmth. She welcomed it, pulling down her earmuffs and taking off her gloves. After stuffing them into her bag, she rubbed her hands together and glanced around the café. The Dot was crowded, but that was a given. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she spotted an empty table near the back, and as she walked up to the counter and stood in line, she hoped no one would take it.
"Fancy seeing you here." A familiar voice piped up from behind her, and Imogen fought the urge to groan.
"Hello, Jake Martin." She answered coolly, not bothering to even turn around. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me."
"Are you sure you aren't the one stalking me?" He teased.
"Don't flatter yourself." Imogen shot back.
The line moved forward, and so did they.
"I would've thought you'd be into that." Jake remarked, and she could practically hear him smirking.
Imogen rolled her eyes. "Sorry, but I'm no Bella Swan and having a guy stalk me is creepy, not romantic."
"I'm not stalking you. It's just a coincidence that we happened to be here at the same time." Jake said simply.
Imogen was about to retort when the cashier called her up. Ignoring Jake for the time being, she ordered a grilled panini and a latte, before handing the girl a ten dollar bill and making her way over to the empty table at the back. She had just gotten herself settled and made herself comfortable when Jake seated himself across from her.
She narrowed her eyes.
Jake grinned.
"This is the only spot left." He told her.
"So sit on the floor." Imogen muttered.
"Are you like this with every guy?"
"Just the ones who don't know how to take a hint. I'm not interested."
"You kissed me back." Jake reminded her, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
"You caught me off guard. I was in shock. That doesn't mean that I like you." Imogen stated. "And for the record, your whole I'm-cool-and-laid-back-and-the-ladies-all-love-me schtick doesn't do anything for me."
"Because you like Eli." Jake said.
"Liked Eli. Past tense."
"But you like guys like Eli. Guys who wear eyeliner and write plays."
"Who I like is none of your business."
"So… you don't find me the slightest bit attractive?"
Imogen glanced over at him.
"I already told you. You're cute. But that means nothing to me." She said.
Jake sighed, leaning back.
"You're really something, you know that?" He said, just as the girl from behind the counter came over and gave Imogen her panini and latte.
The two waited until she was gone before continuing.
"So what's a guy like me gotta do to get your attention?" Jake asked as Imogen took a bite out of her sandwich.
"Nothing." Imogen said, once she'd finished chewing. "Because you and me? It's not happening."
"Just give me a chance." Jake pressed.
"Listen. I've already dealt with one guy who got his heart broken by Clare Edwards, and I'm not about to take on another." Imogen told him. "I'm not going to be your rebound. So find someone else to play tonsil hockey with."
"I don't want anyone else. I like you!" Jake cried exasperatedly.
"Oh, please!" Imogen scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You don't even know me!"
"You're not like any girl -" Jake started, but Imogen cut him off.
"Wow, could you be any more cliché? I mean, really, what's next? Are you going to tell me that my eyes twinkle like stars or that my skin is as smooth as silk?" Imogen mocked.
"Why are you being so difficult?" Jake asked, clearly frustrated.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Does it bother you that I'm not falling for your cheesy little one liners or throwing myself at you like every other girl?" Imogen sneered. She stood up abruptly, having had enough of Jake Martin for one night, and grabbed her bag. "Tough luck."
With that, she spun around and marched out of the café.
The snow was coming down hard now, but Imogen didn't care. She just wanted to get home.
She had just made it to the intersection when, much to her dismay, a familiar truck pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, revealing Jake.
"Want me to give you a ride?" He offered.
"I'm fine." Imogen snapped.
"Are you sure? It's pretty bad." Jake said, motioning to the snow. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
"Not a chance." Imogen replied, wrapping her arms around herself.
She took a few steps forward before realizing it was useless. The snow was messing up her glasses and making it impossible to see. It would take forever to walk home.
"Fine." She muttered, conceding defeat.
Opening the door, Imogen climbed into the passenger seat of Jake's truck. Once buckled in, Jake began to drive — slowly and carefully, while Imogen stared out the window. When they came to a red light, she was surprised when Jake handed her her latte and panini, realizing she'd forgotten them behind.
"Thanks," she mumbled, setting her latte in her cup holder before unwrapping her sandwich and resuming where she'd left off.
"Your welcome." Jake replied, not taking his eyes off the road.
The ride to her house was surprisingly quiet. Neither teen spoke, not even Jake.
When they finally reached her house, Jake pulled into the driveway and cut the engine.
"Well… see you around." He said, staring at the wheel.
Imogen nodded slowly, gathering up her things. "Yeah."
She was about to reach for the door handle when a thought struck her, making her stomach churn uncomfortably.
"The roads are really bad. You can barely see two feet in front of you." She said quietly. "Are you sure you can drive in this weather?"
Jake let out a chuckle. "Why? Are you worried about my safety?"
Imogen rolled her eyes.
"I'm just saying… it's dangerous. You could get into an accident or something." She said. "Do you want to come in? Stay a bit until the weather gets better?"
"Forty minutes ago, you wanted nothing to do with me. Now you're inviting me into your home?" Jake gave her an incredulous look. "I'm getting mixed signals here."
Imogen huffed, crossing her arms defiantly. "I just don't want to be responsible if you get yourself killed on Christmas Eve. That's all. So are you coming or not?"
She heard Jake sigh, and then remove his keys from the ignition. Climbing out of the truck, Imogen made her way up to her porch, the snow beneath her boots crunching with every step she took, and unlocked the front door. Once Jake was inside, she closed it and flicked on the lights.
"Big house." Jake remarked, glancing around in awe.
"Yes, well…" Imogen trailed off, bending down to untie her boots and pull them off.
"Are you sure your parents won't care that you have a guy over?" Jake asked.
"They're not here." Imogen said indifferently, peeling off her coat and hanging it up. "They're away on some business trip or whatever."
Jake did the same, before tilting his head curiously.
"It's Christmas Eve." He said.
"I'm well aware." Imogen replied.
"So… you're here alone?"
"Sure looks that way, doesn't it?" Imogen grimaced. "But don't get any ideas."
"That's… really sad." Jake murmured, ignoring her last remark.
Imogen simply shrugged. "You get used to it. And besides, an empty house has plenty of advantages. If I was that type of girl, I'd probably let you ravish me or something."
Jake cocked a brow. "Ravish?"
Imogen smirked, before making her way into the living room. Jake followed closely behind, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings.
"You can watch some TV if you want." She told him. "I'm just gonna go change."
Jake nodded, plopping down on the sofa and grabbing the remote.
Imogen lingered behind for a moment before turning on her heel and heading up the stairs and to her room. Once there, she reached behind herself and unzipped her skirt. As it pooled to the floor, she pulled off her shirt and discarded her tights, leaving her in nothing but her bra and underwear. Walking over to her dresser, she quickly fished out her pajamas and changed into them. She was in the midst of letting down her hair when she heard a creak in the hallway outside her door, followed by a knock.
"Come in!" She called.
The door opened, and Jake poked his head in.
"Hey, the snow's stopped. I think I can…" He trailed off as soon as he saw her, and Imogen realized that this was the first time anyone had seen her look so… plain. No make up, no wacky hairdo, no fishnets or bizarre outfits with weird patterns. Just plain, boring Imogen. She suddenly felt alarmingly insecure, and was about to tell Jake to leave when he spoke up. "You look…"
"Boring. I know." Imogen cut him off.
"I was going to say 'pretty'." Jake said with a smirk.
Her heart fluttered.
Oh no.
That cheesy compliment actually worked?
"Umm… thanks." Was all she could muster.
"Well… I'm just gonna… head out now…" Jake told her. "I'll see you around."
Imogen nodded. "Y-yeah. Sure."
Jake grinned lopsidedly at her, and was about to leave when Imogen made a beeline for the door and caught his arm. "Stay. Please."
"Imogen?" He furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Just stay." Imogen begged quietly. "For a while. An hour. I just… I don't want to be alone."
Jake gave her a sympathetic look and nodded.
"Okay."
Imogen smiled gratefully at him.
"Thank you, Jake Martin."
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FIN
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What the hell was that?
Ugh. I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to end this.
Oh well. I hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless.
Please REVIEW and tell me what you think!
Happy Holidays!