Day 4 ~
Lydia had not called him as she said she would. Instead BJ had lounged around on the couch, drinking beer (not something he did often, but the mood had struck him), until he had passed out. Jacques, observing his sour mood, had invited him out for dinner, but he declined. As much as he liked free food, nothing much had sparked his interest.
In the morning he shook himself off and stretched. Upon seeing what time it was, he blanched - 10:30 - Lydia had already left for school - so he dashed for his mirror and waived his hand in front of it. Lydia appeared in her painting class, giggling and laughing with that Patrick kid…
"Gawd…" he groaned. Could that kid be any more insipient? There he was, oozing charm and making her laugh while she worked on the paintings she had started the day before. They were close to being done - she was simply adding a smoky aura around her fictitious lovers. Bristling, he decided to slither into a random mirror in the classroom and listen in.
"Do you like them?" Lydia said to Patrick. He was giving her that look - Beetlejuice knew it well. It was just as he suspected - he did not just want Lydia's friendship.
"I think he should have black hair." Patrick answered. His own hair was jet black. Beetlejuice stuck out his tongue in utter disgust. "He'll match her better. And he should be younger looking, don't you think?"
She was looking at him, trying to read his expression. Her smile was one of mischief, of interest… of flirting.
Flirting? Lydia? His Lydia?
What was happening?
"I'll think about it." she answered him. Her tone was teasing… impish. Maddening.
"What is this, the friggin' twilight zone?" he muttered to himself. Wasn't Lydia just twelve years old yesterday? And this guy was clearly not her type, anyway! He was a douche bag, if there ever was one! Look at that lovesick, puppy dog smile, his swarthy hand gestures, his… his…
"You're so nice, Patrick. I really like spending time with you."
Ugh!
He couldn't take this anymore. He rushed back to his own bedroom and cringed, fleeing into the living room.
"Beatlejuice, what is wrong?" Jacques called, making himself a smoothie in the kitchen. "You look a leetle on zhe green side, mon ami!"
"Just… hand me a beer from the fridge, will ya?" BJ groaned, flopping down on the couch.
"But you are going to see Lydia today, are you not?" he protested. "She does not like eet when you have been drinking."
Beetlejuice did not answer. He snatched the beer from Jacques' hand and tuned his brain out, content to stay on the couch for the rest of the day. Jacques sighed and let him be.