Jack's POV
First of all, I'd like to make it clear that I did not say I loved Sarah. Nor did I mention her much. All I said was that David told me once that she was pretty much head over heels for me and that I didn't feel the same way. Just that I liked her. So that was my indication that Spot hadn't really been listening to a word I had said. Although it doesn't explain what incensed him enough for him to start yelling at me.
Second of all, he said that he needed me. HE, Spot Conlon, needed ME, Jack Kelly. I wasn't if I had imagined him saying that or if the words had really been spoken. That, however, was confirmed when he shot me this horrified look like he'd told one of his deepest secrets (which if it's true I'd say is) and prepared to dash off. I wasn't going to let him disappear that easily. I was confused now and I don't like being confused.
He flinched when I grabbed his wrist, although I'm not sure why. I didn't grab it that hard. And he wouldn't look me in the eye, he just kept his head hung completely not facing me. In fact, his whole small body was slumped over in defeat (something I've never seen from him) and he stopped fighting my grip.
"Jack, lemme go," He said quietly, so unlike the voice he uses with is boys or anyone else for that matter. I raised my eyebrow in question but backed off and let go of his wrist.
"Did you say what I thought you said?" I asked again. What can I say? I'm persistent.
"Depends on what you thought I said to ya's," He said in a mocking tone, his eyes still downcast but the edge creeping back into his figure. I frowned, he's hard to figure out, but this was ridiculous.
"Spot," I said sighing, like I said earlier, I was not in the mood for his mind games or sarcasm. I rubbed my eyes tiredly and took a step closer to him. He backed off. And we repeated this little dance until he was pressed up against thin wall of crates and I was no more then a foot in front of him. What was his problem tonight?
"Listen Spot, youse don't have to get all defensive on me alright? I know what ya said. You know what ya said. No big deal. I'se just need to leave fer a little while. I'll be back," I explained, although I wasn't sure if I'd be back or not.
"And what if ya likes dat place so much youse decide to stay dare?" He questioned, lifting his eyes from the ground, but still not looking at me.
"I won't."
"But how do wese know fer sure?"
"Trust me."
Well, that wasn't the right thing to say, cause all of a sudden his eyes, that were practically spewing off fire, were on my face. Trying to stare me down or something to that effect. To really appreciate Spot's temper, you have to see it in person. You wouldn't believe such a small guy could get so mad, and actually scare you. But he's a master at both.
"Trust you? Trust you Jack? I'se can't trust youse to do nuthin! Yer leavin, and youse and I both know you ain't comin back! You. . .I . . .I can't trust you Jack. I can't," He said, trailing off slightly at the end of his triad and once again he avoiding me with eyes contact.
If he could get more confusing, I would be deeply surprised. At the moment I was swimming in confusion I was so confused. And that was only about what he was saying. That didn't apply to why I couldn't be less then a foot from him or the fact that he apparently couldn't look me in the eye. Or anywhere for that matter.
Spot Conlon is one of those people that has everything. Everyone's entitled to be jealous of him. He's got power, respect, his pick of pretty much any girl in New York. . . the list is impossible long. So, just think of something you want and chances are he's got it. I would say it wasn't fair, but I think it might be, he's gone through a lot in his short life. Probably more then me, and he's fought to get where he is today. I respect it. But sometimes Spot can really get on the bad side of my nerves.
This was one of those times.
"Fine, don't trust me. Hate me. Wish da wost death on me youse can t'ink of. I don't care. I'll be gone. An' da only people I'm gonna miss is me boys. So do what'cha want Spot. It doesn't make no difference to me," I said calmly waving my had dismissively in front of his face.
His dark eyes darkened still, as he glared at me. That triggered something because the next thing I know he's up in my face. I tower over him as far as height goes, but he didn't seem to care much. He just stood there searching me with those eyes. A look of defiance on his face. It's hard for Spot to look intimidating. He can act it, or sound it, but look it? He's too small and skinny to really look intimidating. He normally just kinda looks like this cute angry puppy.
Cute? Where the hell did that come from?
I looked back down at him. I suppose if I was like that, I'd consider Spot cute. He's got pretty eyes, and a nice face. Not that I've noticed or anything, because I'm not gay, and, well, I'm not too convincing am I?
He's yelling at me, and still hasn't answered my previous question. Although, I know what he said I want to know why he said it. As far as I knew Spot didn't need anybody but himself, and sometimes I don't think he needs even that. So why does he care so much about me leaving? Why does he care about me at all? I can't help it, my mind wonders and needs answers all the time.
"Why do you need me Spot?"
That shut him up. He went from red-hopping mad to deathly silent. And the whole eye contact has stopped again. I hate that. I took one of my hands, placed it under his chin and made him lift his eyes so he was staring straight into mine. They were pleading with me not to make him say anything. Like if he told me his whole world would fall down around him. (Which I greatly doubt) And are those. . . naw, Spot is physically unable to cry.
"Don't make me say Jack, please," He begged closing his eyes so I can't force him to look at me anymore. I narrowed my eyes at him even though he couldn't see me. I needed to get his attention somehow. Some way. My mind went through a list of things I could do to get him to stop fighting me and freeze up, or at least look at me. My mind betrayed me and settled on the one thing that would get his attention, and probably get me a black eye. It was also quite possibly the dumbest idea I've ever had in my entire life. (And that's saying a lot).
And so that's why I kissed him.
A/N: Ah ha! Spot's POV is coming next, so stay tuned. Special thanks to the people who took the time to review! I love you! (lol) Reviews are golden and beloved! Sorry. . . sugar high. . . woo hoo!
First of all, I'd like to make it clear that I did not say I loved Sarah. Nor did I mention her much. All I said was that David told me once that she was pretty much head over heels for me and that I didn't feel the same way. Just that I liked her. So that was my indication that Spot hadn't really been listening to a word I had said. Although it doesn't explain what incensed him enough for him to start yelling at me.
Second of all, he said that he needed me. HE, Spot Conlon, needed ME, Jack Kelly. I wasn't if I had imagined him saying that or if the words had really been spoken. That, however, was confirmed when he shot me this horrified look like he'd told one of his deepest secrets (which if it's true I'd say is) and prepared to dash off. I wasn't going to let him disappear that easily. I was confused now and I don't like being confused.
He flinched when I grabbed his wrist, although I'm not sure why. I didn't grab it that hard. And he wouldn't look me in the eye, he just kept his head hung completely not facing me. In fact, his whole small body was slumped over in defeat (something I've never seen from him) and he stopped fighting my grip.
"Jack, lemme go," He said quietly, so unlike the voice he uses with is boys or anyone else for that matter. I raised my eyebrow in question but backed off and let go of his wrist.
"Did you say what I thought you said?" I asked again. What can I say? I'm persistent.
"Depends on what you thought I said to ya's," He said in a mocking tone, his eyes still downcast but the edge creeping back into his figure. I frowned, he's hard to figure out, but this was ridiculous.
"Spot," I said sighing, like I said earlier, I was not in the mood for his mind games or sarcasm. I rubbed my eyes tiredly and took a step closer to him. He backed off. And we repeated this little dance until he was pressed up against thin wall of crates and I was no more then a foot in front of him. What was his problem tonight?
"Listen Spot, youse don't have to get all defensive on me alright? I know what ya said. You know what ya said. No big deal. I'se just need to leave fer a little while. I'll be back," I explained, although I wasn't sure if I'd be back or not.
"And what if ya likes dat place so much youse decide to stay dare?" He questioned, lifting his eyes from the ground, but still not looking at me.
"I won't."
"But how do wese know fer sure?"
"Trust me."
Well, that wasn't the right thing to say, cause all of a sudden his eyes, that were practically spewing off fire, were on my face. Trying to stare me down or something to that effect. To really appreciate Spot's temper, you have to see it in person. You wouldn't believe such a small guy could get so mad, and actually scare you. But he's a master at both.
"Trust you? Trust you Jack? I'se can't trust youse to do nuthin! Yer leavin, and youse and I both know you ain't comin back! You. . .I . . .I can't trust you Jack. I can't," He said, trailing off slightly at the end of his triad and once again he avoiding me with eyes contact.
If he could get more confusing, I would be deeply surprised. At the moment I was swimming in confusion I was so confused. And that was only about what he was saying. That didn't apply to why I couldn't be less then a foot from him or the fact that he apparently couldn't look me in the eye. Or anywhere for that matter.
Spot Conlon is one of those people that has everything. Everyone's entitled to be jealous of him. He's got power, respect, his pick of pretty much any girl in New York. . . the list is impossible long. So, just think of something you want and chances are he's got it. I would say it wasn't fair, but I think it might be, he's gone through a lot in his short life. Probably more then me, and he's fought to get where he is today. I respect it. But sometimes Spot can really get on the bad side of my nerves.
This was one of those times.
"Fine, don't trust me. Hate me. Wish da wost death on me youse can t'ink of. I don't care. I'll be gone. An' da only people I'm gonna miss is me boys. So do what'cha want Spot. It doesn't make no difference to me," I said calmly waving my had dismissively in front of his face.
His dark eyes darkened still, as he glared at me. That triggered something because the next thing I know he's up in my face. I tower over him as far as height goes, but he didn't seem to care much. He just stood there searching me with those eyes. A look of defiance on his face. It's hard for Spot to look intimidating. He can act it, or sound it, but look it? He's too small and skinny to really look intimidating. He normally just kinda looks like this cute angry puppy.
Cute? Where the hell did that come from?
I looked back down at him. I suppose if I was like that, I'd consider Spot cute. He's got pretty eyes, and a nice face. Not that I've noticed or anything, because I'm not gay, and, well, I'm not too convincing am I?
He's yelling at me, and still hasn't answered my previous question. Although, I know what he said I want to know why he said it. As far as I knew Spot didn't need anybody but himself, and sometimes I don't think he needs even that. So why does he care so much about me leaving? Why does he care about me at all? I can't help it, my mind wonders and needs answers all the time.
"Why do you need me Spot?"
That shut him up. He went from red-hopping mad to deathly silent. And the whole eye contact has stopped again. I hate that. I took one of my hands, placed it under his chin and made him lift his eyes so he was staring straight into mine. They were pleading with me not to make him say anything. Like if he told me his whole world would fall down around him. (Which I greatly doubt) And are those. . . naw, Spot is physically unable to cry.
"Don't make me say Jack, please," He begged closing his eyes so I can't force him to look at me anymore. I narrowed my eyes at him even though he couldn't see me. I needed to get his attention somehow. Some way. My mind went through a list of things I could do to get him to stop fighting me and freeze up, or at least look at me. My mind betrayed me and settled on the one thing that would get his attention, and probably get me a black eye. It was also quite possibly the dumbest idea I've ever had in my entire life. (And that's saying a lot).
And so that's why I kissed him.
A/N: Ah ha! Spot's POV is coming next, so stay tuned. Special thanks to the people who took the time to review! I love you! (lol) Reviews are golden and beloved! Sorry. . . sugar high. . . woo hoo!