Note: I don't own anything. The places, the characters...none of it. It all belongs to Warner Bros and a bunch of guys who failed to see the true potential when it was slapping them in the face.
Revisionist History
Chapter 4: Faultless
He felt ridiculous laying on his futon, staring at her number on his phone screen. His thumb hovered over the talk button then he pulled it back, a process he had run over and over, at least ten times, in a five minute span.
"Dude, will you just call her, already? I don't know if there's anything more pathetic than you right now."
Drue looked over at Tommy, his roommate, who had not turned around to deliver the dig. He was engrossed in schoolwork, something that Drue should have been concerned with himself but wasn't. The better part of his day had been spent much like the last five minutes, with him in constant debate over whether or not to call. Maybe Tommy had a point, he thought. Maybe he was being pathetic. He had dialed her number a dozen times before without any hesitation, but those calls were more of leisure than of purpose. He liked hearing the sound of her voice, the trill of her laughter, and he took pleasure in imagining the faces she made when she was reacting to his words. Quite often, he had to pull himself back, his mind carrying him a bit farther into a realm of intimacy than it should have when it came to Jen.
In the weeks since their first encounter, then the one in the café, they spent virtually all of their time together. Whether it was because Jack was otherwise engaged or because she genuinely wanted to be around him, regardless of other circumstances, was of little concern. She was there, and that was all that mattered. She spent so much time at his dorm that Tommy had adopted a look, suspicious while at the same time knowing, whenever he walked in and they were together. He had even taken to making himself scarce when he knew that Jen was going to be around. Not that Drue minded. With no one around, they could speak freely.
Mostly, it was idle chatter. They shared stories - some funny, some embarrassing - about their daily lives on separate campuses. There were times when she griped about the idiot she worked with at the radio station - a Boston Bay freshman named Charlie who just would not get the hint and take no for an answer - or she would speculate about the changes she observed, and disliked, in Jack. He could hear her sadness over the latter through her poorly made attempts to hide. He tried to be sympathetic and, some of the time, it seemed that she accepted his gestures as such. The truth was, however, that he was elated that she used him as a source of outlet, that she opened the doors to her life and let him in. All of the apprehension that she felt in the beginning, all of the tension that existed on her part, had given way to a greater necessity. For so long, he had not dared to allow himself to believe she would ever get there, that she would ever need him for anything. Now, though, she did, and he never wanted to let it go.
That was why this phone call was so difficult. And why every time he saw her name appear on his caller id, his nerves ceased for a second before he could answer. He still had times when he had to steady his voice, himself, just to be able to talk to her. Spending so much time with her had the drawback of intensifying feelings that he tried to keep dormant.
"Do you want me to do it, man?" said Tommy, now sounding annoyed at Drue's lack of initiative. "Because, really, I wouldn't mind talking to her. That is one fine…."
"Seriously, shut up. I'm doing it," Drue snapped, stopping what would undoubtedly be any unsavory commentary about all of Jen's physical attributes and the advantage Tommy would have gladly taken of them. If that was all he could see in Jen, Drue was not at all interested in hearing about it.
He inhaled deeply, pressed the button and listened for the, "Hello?" on the other end.
***
"So, you have a date, huh?" came Jack's voice from the doorway.
Jen, who was rummaging through her closet, glowered at him over her shoulder. "Hardly. I am just going to a Halloween party with a friend." Which friend, she failed to mention.
Yet again, a taunting voice reminded her.
This was one of those occasions when she could have told Jack about Drue, but she could not convince herself she was making a bigger deal of the situation than was necessary. But things felt more strained between she and Jack ever since they had come to Boston, he had joined the fraternity, and turned into a nightmarish contradiction of his former self. Springing Drue on him now would be like suicide. As unbearable as Jack could be at times, she did not want to shake the delicate foundation on which their friendship was standing.
It was just easier, better, for her if she kept the secret.
"Grams said it was a guy on the phone. I know it's been awhile, Jen, but usually when a guy asks you to go somewhere with him, it's a date."
She was half tempted to argue with him but looking for an outfit was exasperating enough without the added frustration of Jack's constant barrage of questions. "Fine, fine. It's a date."
"Now that's what I'm talking about. So tell me, who's this guy? Is it someone I know?"
"Look, Jack, I have to get ready for this thing tonight, put together a costume and whatnot. So unless you have anything useful to contribute, please just leave me to it."
He looked taken aback, not understanding the source of her hostility. Frustration, yes, but she had become noticeably distant as the semester progressed. He knew that his involvement in the fraternity had a great deal to do with it, but there was something else, something he could not see, causing them to drift. Still, there was really no purpose in fighting with her.
Listening to him walk away was difficult, but she pushed the feeling deep down and focused on the task ahead.
Though her propensity to believe in the supernatural had been all but eradicated after a night on Witch Island, the chance to be someone, or something, other than herself was deliciously appealing. Even if it was only one night, replacing her daily cover with a more trivial one was sweet relief.
The party was being held by several of the adjoining dormitories on Drue's campus. She could rest assured that no one she knew would be there seeing as Pacey and Joey were set to spend a quiet evening in with Jack. Her original plan had been to join them, sitting around and enjoying one another's company, because she had been neglecting them all as of late. She knew where Pacey's mind would jump at the lack of her presence, and Jack's announcement of her "date." Even though he knew nothing concretely, his assumption would make for an uncomfortable feeling of dishonesty among friends on a night of bonding.
She sighed. As much as she knew she was taking advantage, she was not willing to be the bigger person.
Tonight, it would not matter. Tonight, she would not be Jen Lindley the betrayer.
She could be Jen Lindley, the carefree girl. The fun girl. The girl that Drue knew in New York.
In asking her, he was giving her that chance. For the first time, she could shed the guilt she felt and simply be. Her cheeks flushed, feeling more than just indebted to him.
"And now," she said, "The age old question of what to wear."
***
"What are you suppose to be?" he asked, scrutinizing her knee length skirt and the ivory colored sweater slung over her shoulders, held in place by a single, large button.
She examined herself. "A librarian."
"You do know that, traditionally, Halloween costumes for college girls somehow involve the concept of 'naughty,' right?" he pointed out, smiling at how cute she looked in horn-rimmed glasses.
"Well, I didn't want to waste all that naughty on you, Drue. I save it for someone who knows what to do with it. Not a geek in check print pants," she teased, assessing his costume.
He stepped in, reaching around for the small of her back. He pulled her in close, whispering in her ear, "You know the sweater vest and taped glasses turn you on."
If their closeness had not been so tense, she would have burst in to a fit of giggles. As silly as the suggestion was, there was a bit of truth there as well. Even in that absurd outfit, something about Drue awakened a sense in her. One that was not entirely appropriate for two people who had settled so quietly into a platonic routine.
There was a comfort that had grown between them over the weeks. Their casual teasing and banter was that of two people who had known each other far too long, and quite possibly too well. It was safe, she knew, when there was no chance of physical intimacy between the friends. Yet, with Drue, there was always that fine, uncrossable line and the consequences of her tripping over it could be disastrous.
Still, she could not help but enjoy the feel of being close to him.
"Oh you know it," she said as she recovered her faculties and began the short walk from her bus stop to his campus.
The night air had a chill to it but was not too cold for most of the festivities to be held outside. The majority of students were convening in the student parking lot. Halloween staples were given a college twist - bobbing for apples with beer as a substitute for water, dishes filled with candy-flavored sex goodies, and a suggestively themed haunted house - dotted the area. Looking about, and all those dressed for the occasion, she found Drue's assessment of female costumes to be correct - "naughty," "sexy," and downright "slutty" caricatures were in abundance. She pulled at her shirt, feeling a bit overdressed as she saw the glances pass quickly over her and onto the array of flesh that was displayed around her.
Jen always carried an air of confidence, because she knew she was intelligent and, at least to some degree, beautiful. Along with this came a terrible feeling of inferiority. Girls had always been prettier than she was but usually it was not on display. Having to compete with other girls, who were at least marginally more clothed, on a daily basis was one thing. Seeing every one of her own physical imperfections flaunted in front of her by the absence of them in others was more difficult.
Drue could feel her shift into his side. He looked down at her, recognizing her discomfort immediately. He rested his arm across her shoulders. "Let me get you something to drink."
She half smiled and nodded. The last thing she wanted was to be abandoned, lost in a sea of scantly clad co-eds who were wreaking havoc on her self-esteem. She did not, however, want to appear too clingy.
When he broke away, she knew she it would be awhile before she saw him again; wisdom told her that if she started moving about herself he would have a more difficult time finding her. But she could not remain idle. It only made her feel more neurotic, imagining stares and snickers where there were none.
She began to wander around aimlessly, brushing against people as she moved passed, and think about what Jack had said early. The word "date" cluttered her thoughts, spinning them into confused knots.
Jack had one thing right - it had been quite a long time since she had been asked out, much less actually gone on a date. She was not even sure what the etiquette was anymore. Were the rules of dating in college that much different than those in high school? Or were rules simply a thing that did not exist in college? From her experience, people in college did not date. They just hooked up with one another until they unknowingly slipped into the category of relationship or they simply stopped having sex. There were rarely ever titles and with the only actual "dates" occurring between the sheets, there was really no worry over who had to pay for who and what it meant.
Assuming that people did still date, what were the parameters? If the boy asked the girl out, just the two of them, was that a date? She and Drue were alone a lot of the time, sometimes at his request, other times she just showed up unannounced. Hanging out in a dorm room, doing homework could not count as a date, she assured herself, although not entirely convinced. Nothing terribly romantic about that. Then again, most dates she had been on had not been terribly romantic. Halloween parties certainly were not, yet she was here, and he had asked her. They were out. Together.
Was this a date?
The possibility brought its own set of questions. Was it his intention to ask her on a date, if it in fact was one? Luckily, he was not standing right next to her, giving her the chance to blurt out the words. No matter the answer, the question itself could change the dynamic of what they shared into something she was unprepared for. She could not deny that her feelings for him were growing more complicated with the passage of time. Still, she was not sure she would ever be able to sort them out enough to give Drue what he needed in a relationship.
Part of her, though, wanted to be able to.
Looking around, she found one couple stowed away in the partial darkness of a door's archway. She watched as the boy, sporting a James Bond tuxedo, removed his jacket and wrapped it around his girl, pulling her close to him. Jen could not tell what she was suppose to be but in only a corset she was probably chilly. Watching the scene, Jen was reminded her of prom and how Drue had done the same for her. He had kept her from falling over the edge that night, both literally and figuratively, holding onto her. Had she not been so wrapped up in self-pity, so keen on numbing herself then - or even before that - she could have recognized him for the decent guy that he was. She could have seen his potential as a good boyfriend.
Drue would be a good boyfriend. She was more sure of it now than she had been standing outside of his dorm room and the thought of it made her smile. She wanted what the girl in the tuxedo jack had; she wanted it with Drue. And she wanted him to want it with her, the way he once had.
"Jen?"
A cold shock shot through her like a shiver as she turned to find Audrey, dawning a pale peach slip dress and a faux crown. "Audrey…what, uh….what are you doing here?"
"Are you serious? It's a party. I'm Audrey. The two are go hand in hand. But what about you? I heard you had a date tonight."
Jen's mind flipped into panic mood automatically. She started to scan the crowd desperately. Drue could not come back now and introduce himself. Audrey knowing was the worst possible scenario and the only one that she had not expected nor planned for.
Her actions did not go unnoticed. "You looking for him? He'll probably be easy to spot in this place. It's all cleavage and fishnets. What does he look like?" asked Audrey.
"He's in a green sweater vest and plaid pants," Jen said, forgetting herself for a moment. She was half tempted to take a swat at her own head but that would have made the situation worse. She needed to compose herself, break away from Audrey somehow, and find Drue. The quicker the exit, the better.
"Is he tall, with dark hair and…gorgeous eyes? Because if so, he's over by that bowl of condoms talking to…"
Jen followed the direction of Audrey's dwindling tone. Drue was standing in the exact spot she had mapped out, cup in hand, talking to a leggy brunette. She reminded Jen of the café waitress with her mannerisms, giving him all of the appropriate "come and get me" signs. This time, however, it was not amusing to her. Drue had been unresponsive to the waitress and her advances. With this girl, he was cordial to the point of encouragement. Not only was he being flirted with, but by all appearances, he was flirting back.
"Nice date you got there," commented Audrey, adding insult to injury, as they watched the girl lean in and wrap herself around Drue, whispering something in his ear.
"It's not a date." Jen croaked, unintentionally unleashing her anger on the wrong person. "He's just this guy I know." The words stuck to the inside of her throat, scratching and tearing like the brutal truth of her realization. He was just that - someone who brought her to a party but gave all his attention to some other, random girl. That was not a friend, and definitely not a date. How momentarily idiotic she felt for believing otherwise.
Audrey shrugged. "If that's your story."
"I'm gonna…go. I'll see you later, Audrey." She did not wait for a response before she slunk away, feeling as defeated as she did betrayed. She knew Audrey was a bit dumbfounded watching her walk away but she was not longer worried about it.
Drue saw her coming, though he was not immediately aware of her state. "Jen, hey, I was just coming to look…"
"I am leaving," she said simply.
The girl looked down at Jen, her expression saying, "Go then." Despite the seething stir within, Jen could not manage to glare back at her.
"What? Why? We just got here," Drue insisted..
"Feel free to stay," she said quietly, tilting her head towards the girl, "Obviously, you have more reason to than I do."
He glanced at his tall friend, who must have taken it as a cue. She gave him a casual departure greeting, and a light touch on the arm as she passed by him. "What's up? You look…upset."
She could not decide what was more infuriating, his vague assessment that could have been made by anyone or how strongly she reacted to it. She wanted to hit him while, at the same time, bury her face in his shirt and give him the chance to explain. She knew she was jumping to unfounded conclusions. There may have been absolutely nothing for him to explain. Still, she had spent her entire evening thinking about him while he was cozying up to someone else was. It made her doubt every truth that she had formed of him in her mind. It erased all the good things, bringing all the negative to the forefront.
"You know what? It doesn't matter. Maybe I got the wrong impression about things. Maybe I was expecting something that wasn't there."
As she said the words, the fear he had had about the phone call, the evening, and the whole of what they were, swelled up in his chest, making him feel sick. They were arguing, like couples did at times, and that stung. It reminded him of what they were not and, by all estimations, would never be. Everything had been blown before it had a chance to take off. All because she felt like he wanted something, someone, more than her. All because he had been too indecisive, too afraid, to actually tell her otherwise.
The whooshing moan of a ghost howled in the background somewhere, dying quickly against the thump of beat less music. Each pump of the bass clocked a long, torturous second.
"I didn't know you felt that way," he said quietly.
"I don't feel any way, Drue. I just want to go." More appropriately, she wanted to run. Far and fast, before he had a chance to see the tears brimming, burning against her eyelids. He was not getting her tears. Not tonight.
"Jen…" he went to touch her arm but her stride kept her out of his reach.
"Just let me go." Her step quickened.
"Can't we talk about this. This whole night shouldn't change the last few weeks."
"I don't want talk. I just want to go home."
"Let me at least walk with you to the bus or get you a cab or something."
"No."
He finally caught her arm. "Don't be stupid. It's getting late and…"
"STOP!" she shrieked, turning dozens of heads in their direction. Two familiar looking faces, having moved out of their hiding spot, were locked on her. She could not help but wonder what they thought about him and her and their stance. If the guy was assuring himself that he would never grab his girlfriend that way, the girl feeling lucky that her boyfriend was nothing like that creep grabbing that girl.
With all eyes on him, he let his hand fall out of frustration. "Fine. Go home." He wanted to say something more biting - a nasty dig about crying to her Grandma like a child. It was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he kept it contained. He did not want to hurt her more than he had. He was not angry with her. Only with himself. Whatever he had done, which he assumed was somehow tied to him talking to another girl, it had been stupid enough to drive her away. He was the idiot. Not her.
Jen forced herself not to stop and look back. Seeing something similar to what she saw that day in his dorm would have weakened her resolve. She would look upon his face and believe that she was tearing them apart, yet again. That this was her fault. She would not allow herself to feel that way, convinced that it was no more hers than it was his. Maybe, she thought, it was no one's fault. Maybe they just were not meant to be together, as anything at all.
The prospect of it had never crossed her mind before, mostly because Jen was largely a non-believer in all things that attach themselves to fate. There was no mystical force in the universe that dictated the "shoulds" and "should nots," in life. Nothing abstract brought people together; nothing abstract kept them apart. Even in the case of her in Drue, it was always something tangible, even expected, that was working against them. Distance, sex, anger. Now, it was disillusionment. It was her allowing hers to overestimate Drue's attention towards other women and underestimate his feelings for her, even though she knew, deep down, that her logic was backwards. She did not need help from fate, she could manage to damage her relationships all on her own.
A bitter snort cut the air in a barely visible puff. Jen pulled her sweater tight around her body. She thought, again, of prom and felt the pang of wanting. She longed for Drue to be the one wrapping her up, for him to be that boy he was that night. Not the boy who wanted to talk to girls in skanky nurse costumes. She could not have expected that he would stop talking to all other females forever, but she had wanted him to focus his attention on her. He wanted him to want to talk to her more than the rest, make her feel like the most important girl in his life.
He was not going to be exactly what she wanted, though, nor could she have expected he would give up who he was for her. She knew better than anyone that changing a man, even a young one, was a fool's errand, even more so than caring for one so flawed as Drue was. In the past few weeks she had allowed herself to overlook the truth of Drue. When she was alone with him, it was so easy to forget that he, like anyone, retains who they are at their core. When they were alone, he seemed like someone completely different from who he had once been. But she saw with her own eyes, his true colors shown true. He was one way with her and completely different when with others. It was a state of males that was so familiar to her, almost as if it were a fond memory, that she could not believe she had missed it in him.
Now here she was, alone, while all her friends were at home, enjoying a rare night of shared company. It was likely that they had sat around the table, eating something warm and savory cooked up by Pacey's expert hand, him bemoaning the fact that they were making a mockery of his culinary prowess by eating over of paper plates. Things would have quickly turned to good natured ribbing, the boys ganging up on Joey because she was an easy target. They would all be laughing and happy that they had the chance to be together.
She had forgone all of that only to be disappointed by someone who, at this very moment, was probably licking his wounds and already chatting with his friend the nurse. Another sign she would have seen if she believed in such things.
The wash of thoughts was perforated by the sound of footsteps, quiet as suspect, behind her. Her attention to their presence and closeness roused an immediate sense of unease. The temptation to look was overruled by the panic of not having a plan. The blood was pounding in her ears and against her scalp. She grabbed her bag from under her folded arms. She thought of offering it to him, rationalizing that he would leave her alone. But burglars did not stalk. They struck quickly, catching a victim off guard, then disappearing without leaving a trace. This man had more sinister and his thoughts stretched beyond the prospect of monetary gain.
Mentally scolding herself, though useless, was rampant. Growing up in New York, she knew better than to walk around alone at night. If only she had not been so irrational and stormed off, away from the safety of a crowd. If only she had let Drue walk her here. If only he had not been so flagrant in his disregard for her. It was easy to blame the present situation on him more than her but there was no reason for it. This time, there was no one to blame but herself.
The feeble words, "Who's there," escaped her lips, but to no avail. Her eyes darted in every direction, looking for a reprieve. All she could find was an empty bus stop, that would in no way provide protection, and two dire looking buildings encroaching on what appeared to be a long, dark alley. It was too cold for any of the windows above to be open. Still, if she screamed loud enough, someone might here. Someone had to hear.
Please, someone hear.
She darted into the vacant street, making a mad dash for a non-existent escape on the opposite side. She had only reached halfway when she felt two arms, one wrapping around her middle, lifting her feet from the ground, the other clamping down over her mouth. She was being dragged backwards, to the place she had looked upon seconds early.
She kicked legs frantically, and clawed at his grip on her. The echo of any scream was absent, muffled by a gloved hand. Flailing as she was, she knew she was doing herself a disservice. She was going to tire herself soon enough, giving him what he wanted. Not that it much mattered; he was going to have that anyway.
Her body was slammed hard against a cold, gritty surface near the entry of an alleyway. She felt material tearing and skin scraping off in various places. A burst of pain in her right shoulder made her vision blur. Even if his face had been recognizable she would not have been able to see it.
The hand over her mouth slid, a finger giving just enough for her to clamp her teeth down hard. He withdrew it but before she could scream, one hand tightened around her throat while he used the other to strike in the face several times. She could not catch air. Everything was going numb. All she could feel was a hand snaking up her thigh. Knowing what was about to happen, she was almost relieved she was slipping into darkness. Whatever disgusting thing he planned to do in pursuit of his end, she did not want to feel.
There was a pop of bright lights. The rest was nothingness.
