What If We Were Just Too Drunk to Notice - Season 3, Episode 16. Miller's surprise party aftermath. That whole scene made me LOL I want more of it in the future.
The first (and only, for a few seconds there) thing she registered upon regaining a rough sort of consciousness the next morning (as she'd come to figure out by the light streaming in from the deck doors) was Jack's voice, gruff with exhaustion and a (very likely) hangover.
"Wake up. Hey."
He hit her foot with his, or at least what she assumed to be her foot. Whatever limb it was that is still pins and needles, weighted down by what she could logically discern to be her shoe.
"We gotta go. We're getting called in."
She opened her eyes slowly, just enough to let some light through, and raised her head, rubbing a hand down her face with a groan. Her calves were draped across his thighs and she wasn't so quick to move. She couldn't find the strength quite yet.
"What? Where's my phone…?"
So, Jack had slept beside her. On this couch. There seemed to be a notable amount of distance between them, and still, he was fully clothed. So was she. All good things so far.
She reached up to massage the kink out of her neck and when she did that she swore she could feel a sort of risen spot in the crevice between her neck and shoulder. She went over it again with her fingers, and it felt the same, and with a sudden, heart-stopping realization, the realization of what might have happened last night, her entire body deflated, and she shut her eyes.
No. She wasn't a cheater. She didn't do this kind of thing.
Right? Maybe though, she did, and she just never had the time to figure it out. Not fully. Ryan had been her only boyfriend, long-term, up until she'd turned twenty-three. She had no desire. And then she thought about Jack. How, when she had been with him the first time, she had also been with Ryan, near the end.
So maybe she is a cheater after all, just where Jack was concerned. Funny though, how this time it was the other way around.
She had been so angry with Robert, and Jack had made that offside, slapstick sort of remark about how he had never seen her not mad at her husband, and the reason she had been so ticked off was because it made her think; except, she was so drunk, too drunk, one might argue, to think about it legitimately and for too long, and so, instead, she drowned her sorrow in a shot glass and decided to dance.
It helped, and she stopped caring about how drunk she was, and was progressively getting, and then, somewhere along the line, she ended up on this couch, with Jack, fully clothed and spaced apart, but still, with a deep purple bruise on her neck that she couldn't explain away as a drunken injury. Drunken, yes, oh yes, injury, absolutely not.
"Hey," she hit Jack's shoulder as he was busy running his hand through his hair and drinking obnoxiously from a plastic water bottle. She watched him as he visibly tried not to gag. It helped some, knowing that he had been just as drunk as her, if not more. "Did you do this last night?"
He moved his head towards her, ever so slowly, as he swallowed. "What? Did I do something?"
She breathed out. He had no idea, no recollection, and to be brutally honest, neither did she. Before even admitting it to him, as if it were some shameful thing, which, given that she has a husband now, it most definetly was, Andy resolved to keep it covered up with makeup and just pretend it never happened.
"On my neck." She pointed out the mark to him. "See? Were we…doing stuff last night?"
His look of confusion matched hers. He looked nervous, but not in the way where it meant he was implicated. Nervous like he genuinely did not remember.
"Shit, Andy. I – uh - I don't know. I guess? There's no other way to explain that particular mark and nobody else here would have done it…we have history, it makes…it makes a bit of sense."
She nodded slowly. Digesting the bit of information. Still though, they had been drunk. Very, very drunk. The pounding in her head and the tingly feeling of her tongue told her that much.
"Right. Yeah. Me, you, anger, alcohol…lethal combination."
"Yeah…" He sighed heavily, rubbed his eyes. "I feel like I should apologize."
"No. It was me too. This doesn't all get put on you, Jack. And Robert doesn't have to know. It won't hurt him this way. And then I can pretend I'm not a super shitty human being."
He gave her a lopsided grin as he changed his shirt and she looked down, straightening her own, and refused to meet his eye for the obvious reason. She wasn't privy to his nakedness anymore. It felt wrong. Especially now, in the light of everything here, no matter how much fog they couldn't seem to get through.
"You're not a shitty person, Andy." He chuckled. "Not inherently. Maybe just right now."
"Hey," she chuckled, too, hitting his leg. It was safe. His jeans were still intact. "Take that back."
"I can't," he said to her, offering him her hand to stand, which she took. Her balance was still extremely off-kilter. "I can't because I'm a pretty shitty person, too. Right now. And we can be shitty together."
She shook her head. Oh, she was so hungover. Maybe she was still drunk. And now her husband was going into surgery. She had to go. She had to go now.
Before she left through the front door, she gave Jack a kindred smile, one that he returned, and strictly as friends. Friends. No more, no less. Always.
I always wondered why they ended up together on the couch (and she hadn't been with Maya, who I assume went home early, as she wasn't as hungover as the rest of them). This one may have a part 2. Because we support Jandy end-game here. Ooh.
