Chapter 2: Roles
I have like wanted Jordan Catalano for so long and with so much intensity that it like, physically ached sometimes, but I had never stopped to think about what that all meant. Until now, anyway. I mean, what do people actually want when they say that they "want" someone? What do we want from each other?
With Jordan, it's not just about sex, even though it lingers in the air between us like an unspoken thing, but there's got to be more to it than that. I remember how badly I wanted him to just open his eyes and look at me, to acknowledge that I even existed. Now I wonder what he sees when he looks at me – does he know me?
I was ecstatic when I thought he wrote the letter. I mean, hours and hours of fantasizing and daydreaming about a person tends to lead to the real thing not measuring up. But when I thought Jordan wrote the letter, it was like all the daydreams couldn't even begin to scrape the surface of how deep and complex he was revealing himself to be. Best of all, it was as if someone finally understood, like, how I wanted and needed to be seen.
"But Jordan didn't write it," Angela mumbled to herself for what felt like the millionth time. She was sitting on her windowseat later that night, reading the letter in the moonlight for what felt like the millionth time. It just felt too surreal, all of it – Brian basically admitting that he'd written the letter based on his feelings for her, driving away with Jordan in his car, kissing Jordan, the almost-talk they'd had in his car…
With a resigned sigh, she crumpled up the precious letter and tossed it in the direction of the wastepaper basket in the corner. A moment later, with another sigh, this time of defeat, she crossed the room and picked up the crumpled piece of paper from where it lay, smoothing it beside her on the floor. Why should she throw away a beautiful letter just because it wasn't from who she wanted it to be?
Poor, exasperating Brian. He just has a way about him that manages to annoy everyone around him, except Danielle, it seems. He always means well, I suppose, but things just have a way of exploding in his face. I accused him of seeing the whole letter situation as a "sick joke" – he'd tried to downplay his role in the whole mess. I don't even want to like know how he got involved. It makes me sick to think about how mean I was to him, and how he just like takes it… I guess that's part of how he is, and how I am, and how we are to each other…
It's like we all have roles when we interact with other people. And I don't know if we can change them, like ever. I think that I tried, when I dyed my hair and quit yearbook, but people were just shocked and said it was like "out of character" and stuff like that. As if I was going to snap back and pick up where I'd left off.
Like with Rickie and when Rayanne and I were close, I was the innocent girl that they were always like, corrupting or something. In little ways, they never let me forget it. And with Sharon, we'll probably always see each other as little girls, which is why it's so shocking that she's like had sex with Kyle and everything. And Brian, well, he will probably always be the annoying kid across the street. Maybe it's shallow of me to say it, but I just can't like see past that right now. He definitely surprised me with that letter, but I don't think I can see him as anything more than the kid across the street who rides his bike in circles and is always making up excuses to come over. I wonder if I'll miss that…
Angela folded up the crumpled letter and threw it into her nightstand drawer. It wasn't as if she didn't have every single word memorized anyway. 'Why am I always thinking so hard?' she wondered.
Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers around herself and stared out at the moonlight shining through the window. She had to deal with Brian, whether she liked it or not. It was the right thing to do.
The lights were on at Jordan's house when he pulled into the curb out front. For a split second, he considered turning the car around, although he didn't really have anywhere else to go. There was always the option of sleeping in Red, but he really didn't feel like it tonight, and the loft was more or less without any heat. He thought briefly of Angela, likely tucked cozily into bed in her flannel nightshirt. He almost wanted to laugh when he thought about their respective situations, but it wasn't a funny laugh, more like a sad one.
He could already hear the music as he cut across the front yard, strains of loud eighties stuff that he hated. She spins me right round baby right round like a rollercoaster right round right round…
The front door was unlocked. He slowly eased it open, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if steeling himself against the sight of what might be inside.
"Jordan, baby! You're home!" a husky female voice squealed. "Have a beer with me, sweetie!" A cold one was pressed into his hand before he could say a word. Jordan moved the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow.
"Hey Maxine. How's it going?" he asked as a pair of arms slid around his neck and he smelled her smoky hair against his cheek.
That's it for now! Hope you're enjoying this continuation! Please read and review. The song above is "You spin me round" by Dead or Alive.