"Jack," I said, shutting the door behind me. Jack looked up from his lap. His crutches were sprawled out on the floor, and his broken foot was on his pillow, while his good foot was on the floor.
"What?" he said.
"That kiss," I said. "Did you do it because you love me, or did you intend for it to be on my cheek or forehead?"
"Um..." He pursed his lips, looking to his right.
"Uh, yes... I like you, and I kind of want to play you like a flute," he mumbled, sounding... odd.
"Okay." I was freaked out. He said he wanted to play me like a flute. Did that mean he wanted to sleep with me? I could feel my hands leaving the wood of the door and moving up to my chest.
"You said you wanted to play me like a flute," I spoke awkwardly. "Does that mean you want to sleep with me?" I cupped my hand over my mouth, realizing what I just said.
"I said I wanted to play you because I couldn't figure out a better way of saying, 'I love you, Aly.'"
I could feel my hands touching my chest again.
I could feel tension... and steam rising up.
"I guess I'll go now." I opened the door, exited, and shut it behind me as hard as I could.
"Jesus, Aly. You're going to wake the dead." Marco the Asshole.
"Why do you say that?" I snapped, not knowing why I did it.
"Because I am." I watched him walk away.
Thank god that's over, I thought to myself.
I needed to get back to my room. At least it might mean not seeing Jack for the rest of the day.