I feel so bad for not updating but I have never been this busy in my life! Sorry! This is a short, filler chapter, but it raises some new plot points. Hopefully it will tide you over until next time aka the wedding and a bit later the sex.
I.
He walks in to the party and someone, Brad he thinks, asks where the hell St. James is.
"O-fucking-hio," John replies, with just enough in his tone to make it suggestive.
He's the last one to arrive. This is a smaller party than the last one, just the group, and his entrance causes the body shots to cease. He can sense everyone's attention shift rapidly to Meg because of his answer.
Of course, Meg takes that as her cue to greet him by the door, saltshaker still in hand, and kiss him lewdly in front of everyone. Then, she grasps his zipper and pulls him to the center of the room.
"Too bad he's not here," she shrieks, putting down the saltshaker and grabbing Alex's beer from his hand, "I have an announcement."
In her drunken state, Meg looks nothing like the leader she is, but she manages to grab the group's attention nonetheless.
"The Coppertones are releasing their first album!" she states, raising the beer above her head. "I met with a producer last week and some foundation is funding us. Apparently acapella groups are all the rage right now." She punctuates the last sentence with a girly giggle and a swig of beer.
John can tell that the group is unsure whether or not she is telling the truth. Meg can be a bit eccentric when she gets drunk. Usually, Jesse is the one to deal with her, in a manner of speaking.
Meg turns back to him with a triumphant smile on her face. "And my man here is singing lead."
Her statement both thrills and unnerves him at the same time.
He knows where this is coming from, knows that this is a game to her. Yet, part of him can't seem to care.
He thinks he is smart enough to play this particular game.
He doesn't get a chance to question Meg or observe the rest of the group's reactions to his new appointment because Lexi pointedly removes Meg's hand from his groin and drags him outside.
It's the first time that he's ever seen someone actually heartbroken. It's a hard feeling to define, but it is there, written plain as day on her face.
He drops his head, embarrassed, and waits for her to speak. Lately, she's become one of his best friends. She's non-assuming and always there, ready to talk. He had never had the least romantic thought about her until the day he admitted to her that he had forgotten what it was like to kiss someone that wasn't his girlfriend. She had promptly leaned over and pecked him on the lips, and that was that. Problem solved.
Since then, they've kissed here or there but she stopped them from going further each time. He has always admired her self-respect in that regard.
But, recently, he's been making more and more use of Meg's lack of self-respect.
After what feels like an eternity of silence, she looks at him, shaking her head. "Don't you have anything to say?"
He doesn't know what to say so he demurs to the quiet.
He can tell that somehow, in the short time since she took him outside, she has planned what she wanted to say, because her response has the necessary sting.
"Jesse gets my vote, then."
He feels the truth of her words, realizes that he had already accepted that consequence before she even said it.
She turns around and walks down the sidewalk instead of returning to the party. He watches her leave and wonders if he's lost both of his best friends in one night.
II.
His mother is standing at the martini bar in the kitchen, directing the conversation, while he, Rachel, and Isabella sit at the raised breakfast bar.
Isabella is saying something about Abu Dhabi.
That's as much as he gathers.
His eyes are constantly drawn to Rachel's lap where she is holding her coat closed in a vice grip. How had he not noticed before that she didn't seem to have a dress or a skirt on beneath that coat? His imagination is running wild with the possibilities.
Rachel kicks him, hard, when she realizes where his focus lies. She can tell that he has caught on to her predicament.
He abruptly raises his eyes to meet hers. He would hate to tell her that her gesture has only succeeded in adding stiletto boots to his mental images.
His mother offers them something to drink and he sees his opportunity, runs with it.
He mentions something about tickets to a Gaga concert and needing to stop at home because he forgot his gloves.
His mother gives him her well-practiced disapproving glare. He mutters a meaningless apology and tells her that he and Rachel really do need to leave. They stop by his room to grab the gloves he never wears, which gives Rachel just enough time to glance at the room that she would have lost her virginity in.
Maybe another day.
Rachel, ever polite, tells both his mother and Isabella goodbye at the door and apologizes for their abrupt departure. It's obvious to Jesse that she is waiting for another invitation to be extended, but it never comes.
Jesse squeezes her hand and gives it a subtle tug. If he doesn't interrupt, she will be waiting forever.
"The show starts in twenty minutes, Rach."
Rachel nods and follows him, but he can tell that she is disappointed.
He thinks about apologizing for his parents but he wouldn't know where to start.
III.
He drives further into the subdivision and she looks at him quizzically, still holding her coat, until he pulls over by a landscaped pond. If you squint out the houses in the background, it's sort of pretty.
She sighs heavily and climbs into the backseat, carefully holding her coat together. He moves to follow her but she braces her hand between the seats effectively blocking his way. He looks at her and she shakes her head at him.
"Stay there and don't turn around." She glances at the mirror and adds, "Just close your eyes," as a second thought.
He thinks that she is trying to be seductive so he says, in an exaggerated whiney tone, "I want to see."
"No."
His comeback is already on the tip of his tongue but he frowns when he recognizes the hurt in her voice.
"Rach…"
"Please, Jesse."
He does as she asks, all the while listening to the torturous sounds of buttons being undone, zippers unzipped, clothing removed and replaced then tucked away in a bag that she must have hidden back there earlier.
"Okay," she finally says.
He looks to the mirror first, half hoping that the sounds had lied.
They didn't. She's sitting there in a plain, white t-shirt, a grey hoodie and jeans. Her feet are bare and pulled up onto the seat, her hands encircling her knees. He gives himself a split second to mourn the loss of the stiletto boots.
"I'm never going to be one of those girls," she starts, "I don't know why I ever try to convince myself that I can be."
"Which girls?" he asks curiously as he climbs back to sit next to her.
"One of those girls that can dress up for their boyfriends and have everything go smoothly and perfectly." She pauses and cringes, rests her chin on her knee. "God, that was embarrassing."
He laughs and realizes a minute too late that that probably wasn't the reaction she was hoping for when she turns her head to look away from him.
"Did you sleep with her too?"
He laughs again and she turns her head back to shoot him a glare. She doesn't find this funny at all.
"I may have wanted to when I was thirteen, but I never got anywhere close. She's older and has always been involved with some guy that she went to middle school with."
"They broke up," Rachel counters. Jesse shoots her a confused look.
"Were you not listening to anything they were saying? She broke up with her boyfriend, she's moving to Abu Dhabi to run her dad's company and she is staying at your house until…" here Rachel breaks off, stresses her next words, "Until the both of you leave for the summer."
Jesse chuckles, which earns him a sharp slap on the thigh. "I might have been slightly distracted," he jokes.
She smiles reluctantly, which he was hoping for.
"Your dad would go to all of this trouble to make sure you go away for the summer?"
Jesse shakes his head. "It's more than that. He wants to make the point that I am destined to screw up this relationship."
"By placing a succubus down the hall."
"Dramatic much?"
"I am never going to look like her," Rachel says softly, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Stop it." He says it with more anger than he intends and she looks at him with wide eyes. "I hate that they make you think that you aren't pretty or sexy…"
She cuts him off, shaking her head. "It's different with you. You love me. You don't see my flaws." She winces. "I have a lot."
"Stop it," he repeats. He grabs her knees and pulls her to face him, hand reaching up to caress her face. "You are beautiful and sexy and gorgeous by anybody's standards. And, as much as it kills me to admit it, I'm sure that if we called up Finn or mohawk guy or that reporter guy or anyone else in glee club they would agree with me."
He senses that she's not fully convinced. He sighs. "I'm worried about you coming to NYU because of all the guys that will want to steal you away from me."
She rolls her eyes.
"Fine. I'll make you a bet. If three different guys don't hit on you during your next visit to NYU…"
She's intrigued by his premise and he can tell that whatever he's going to promise her has to be good, "… I'll shave my head."
Her mouth drops open. "You wouldn't."
"I won't have to. I'm that confident I will win this bet."
"I think I've been asked out three times in my life total," she says, running her hands through his hair with obvious concern.
He shrugs his shoulders. "Lima's a close-minded town. They don't recognize obvious talent and beauty."
"I'm sorry about tonight," she whispers, effectively changing the topic, "I really wanted it to be perfect and now… I can't."
"Can you at least tell me what you had on under that coat? I'm dying to know."
She climbs back over, but heads for the driver's seat, turning the key to start the engine.
"Who said I had anything on?"
