JENNIE

Lisa's hand reaches for mine to aid me, and I'm surprised. By the way she was scowling and pouting the entire time I was dancing, I thought she'd be yelling by now. Or worse, I was half expecting her to climb up and drag me off the bar, then start a brawl with all the customers.

"See, no one noticed that you're a shitty dancer!" Riley laughs, and I sit down on the cool bar top.

"That was actually so much fun!" I yell, and once again the music stops. I laugh and jump down from the bar, Lisa's arm wrapped protectively around me until I'm steady enough for her to retreat.

"You should get up there next time!" I say into Lisa's ear, and she shakes her head.

"No," she says solemnly.

"Don't pout, it's not cute." I reach out and touch her lips. It is cute, though, the way her bottom lip sticks out. Her eyes shine at the contact, and my pulse quickens. I already feel high from the adrenaline that came from dancing on the bar top, something I never in my life thought I would do. As much fun as it was, I know I'll never do it again. Lisa sits down on the bar stool, and I stay standing between her and Riley, next to my empty stool.

"You love it." She smiles, my fingers still pressed against her lips.

"Your lips?" I say with a smirk.

She shakes her head. She's playful yet very serious at the same time, and it's intoxicating, she's intoxicating, and I'm highly intoxicated. This should be interesting.

"No, pissing me off. You love to piss me off." Her tone is dry.

"No. You just get pissed off too easily."

"You were dancing on a bar in front of a roomful of people." Her face is mere inches from mine, and her breath is a heady combination of mint and whiskey. "Obviously that would get to me, Jennie. You're lucky I didn't pull you down, put you over my shoulder, and carry you out of this place."

"Over your shoulder, not your knee?" I tease and stare into her eyes, completely disarming her.

"Wh-what?" she stutters.

I laugh before turning to Riley. "Don't let her fool you, she loved that shit," she whispers to me, and I nod. My stomach tightens at the thought of Lisa watching me, but my mind tries to overrule my dirty thoughts. I should be fuming, I should be ignoring her or yelling at her over sabotaging Seattle for me, again, or for the hurtful words she said to me, but it's nearly impossible to be pissed off when I'm this drunk.

I allow myself to pretend that none of that happened, at least for now, and imagine that Lisa and I are a normal couple out with our friend having a drink. No lies, no dramatic fights, only fun and table dancing.

"I still can't believe I actually did that!" I say to both of them.

"Me either," Lisa grumbles.

"I won't be doing it again, that's for sure." I swipe my hand across my forehead. I'm sweaty and it's hot in the small bar; the air is thick and I need to breathe.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing, it's hot." I fan myself with my hand, and she nods once.

"Let's go, then, before you pass out."

"No, I want to stay longer. I'm such having fun. I mean, such a fun time."

"You can't even form a coherent sentence."

"So? Maybe I don't want to. Either you loosen up or you can go."

"You . . ." she begins, but I cover her mouth with my palm.

"Shh . . . for once just shh. Let's have fun." I use my other hand to touch her thigh again, squeezing this time.

"Fine," she says into my hand.

I uncover her mouth, but I keep my hand inches away so I can cover it again if I need to.

"No more dancing on the bar," she says, gently negotiating.

"Fine. No more pouting or scowling," I fire back.

She smiles. "Fine."

"Stop saying 'fine.'" I bite back a grin.

She nods. "Fine."

"You're annoying-ish."

"Annoying-ish? What would your Literature professor say to that kind of grammar?" Lisa's eyes are deep jade, alight with humor, splashed bloodshot from the liquor.

"You're funny sometimes." I lean into her.

She hooks her arm around my waist and brings me between her legs. "Sometimes?" She kisses my hair, and I relax in her grip.

"Yep, only sometimes."

She chuckles and doesn't let me go. I don't think I want her to. I know I should, but I don't. She's drunk and playful, and the alcohol in my system makes me lose sight of all common sense . . . as always.

"Look at the two of you getting along." Riley holds her hands up to us like we're on display.

"She's so annoying," Lisa huffs.

"Twins." I laugh, and she shakes her head at me.

"LAST CALL!" My new friend calls from behind the bar. In the last hour I have learned that her name is Cami, that she's nearly fifty, and that she just had her first grandchild in December. She shoved some printed pictures in my face, like every grandmother does, and I praised them, telling her how beautiful the child is. Lisa barely glanced at the images. Instead she started mumbling something about trolls, and so I quickly pulled the picture away from her before Cami heard.

I sway from side to side. "One more and I'm so done."

"I don't know how you haven't passed out yet!" Riley exclaims, with obvious admiration.

I do: Lisa has been taking my drinks from me halfway through and finishing them herself.

"You've been drinking more than anyone, probababally more than himmm," I slur, pointing to the man at the end of the bar who has literally passed out with his head on the top of the bar. "I wish Lillian could've came with us," I say, and Lisa crinkles her nose.

"I thought you hated her?" she asks, and Riley snaps her head to me.

"I don't hate her," I correct Lisa. "I didn't like her when you were trying to make me jealous by hanging out with her."

Riley tenses, looking at Lisa beside me. "What?"

Shit.

"Don't back away now, darling," she presses.

I'm trapped and drunk and have no idea what the hell to say. I don't want to make her mad, that's for sure.

"Nothing," Lisa says to her and holds up a hand. "I was being a dick and didn't tell Jennie that she was gay. You already know that."

Her shoulders relax. "Oh, okay, then."

Jeez, she's just like her.

"See, nothing happened, so chill out," Lisa says to her.

"I'm chill, trust me," she coos and moves her stool slightly closer to mine. "Nothing wrong with a little jealousy, right?" Riley looks at me with a glint in her drunken gaze. "Have you ever kissed make out with other, Jennie?"

My scalp prickles, and I gasp dramatically. "What?"

"Riley, what the—" Lisa says, but Riley cuts her off.

"I'm only asking a question. Have you ever make out with other?"

"No."

"Have you ever thought about it?"

Drunk or not, I feel the embarrassment creeping onto my cheeks. "I—"

Lisa reaches up and swipes her hand from my skin. "Enough," she growls, and I pull my arm away.

Riley breaks into uncontrollable laughter. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I couldn't resist. She started it." She nods toward Lisa through her convulsions and then stops to look at her with a big smile. "I warned you earlier not to fuck with me."

I let out a breath, extremely relieved that she was only trying to get a rise out of Lisa. A giggle bursts from my mouth, and Lisa looks mortified, pissed off, and . . . maybe slightly turned on?

"You're paying for the drinks, since you want to be an asshole," Lisa says, pushing the long piece of paper past me and in front of her.

Riley rolls her eyes and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a card and placing it on top of the receipt. Cami quickly swipes it and goes to attend to the passed-out man at the other end of the bar.

As we get to the door, Riley announces, "Well, we closed down the bar—Lil is going to be pissed."

Lisa holds the door for me to walk out. She almost closes it in Riley's face, but I reach out to stop it and give Lisa a hard glare. She laughs and shrugs as if she did nothing wrong, and I can't stop the smile on my face. She's a jerk, but she's my jerk.

Isn't she?

Nothing's for certain, but I sure as hell don't want to think about that while walking back to the cabin at two in the morning.

"Will she still be asleep?" I ask Riley.

"I sure as hell hope so."

I hope everyone in our cabin is asleep, too. The last thing I want is for Marco or Karen to be awake as we stumble through the front door.

"What? Are you afraid she'll scold you or something?" Lisa taunts her.

"No . . . well, yes. I don't want to upset her. I'm already skating on thin ice."

"Why?" I ask nosily.

"Doesn't matter," Lisa says, dismissing me and leaving Riley lost in thought.

The remainder of the walk is spent in near silence. I count my steps and laugh occasionally when I recall my bar-dancing experience.

When we reach Max's cabin, Riley hesitates before departing. "It was . . . nice to meet you," she says. I can't help but laugh at the comical way she scrunches her face, as if the words taste sour coming out of her mouth.

I smile. "You, too; it was fun." For a moment I think about hugging her, but that would be awkward and I get the feeling Lisa wouldn't like it at all.

"Bye," Lisa simply states without stopping.

When we're almost to the cabin, it hits me how tired I am and how I'm so thankful to be close. My feet are aching, and the harsh fabric of this itchy, uncomfortable dress has surely scratched my skin.

"My feet hurt," I whine.

"Come here, I'll carry you," Lisa offers.

What? I giggle.

She smiles uncertainly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You just offered to carry me."

"And . . ."

"It's just unlike you, that's all." I shrug, and she steps closer, hooks her arm under my legs, and lifts me into her arms.

"I would do anything for you, Jennie. You shouldn't be surprised that I'd carry you up a damn driveway."

I don't speak, I just laugh. Hard. Uncontrollable laughter racks my body. I cover my mouth to stop it, but it doesn't help one bit.

"Why are you laughing?" Her face is stone, serious and intimidating.

"I don't know . . . that was just funny," I say.

We reach the porch, and she shifts me slightly so she can turn the knob on the door. "Me telling you that I'd do anything for you is funny?"

"You'll do anything for me—except go to Seattle, marry me, or have children with me?" Even in my drunkenness, the irony is not lost on me.

"Don't start with me; we're too drunk to have this conversation right now."

"Ooooh," I immaturely remark, knowing that she's right.

Lisa shakes her head and walks up the stairs. I latch on to her neck, and she smiles down at me despite her curt behavior.

"Don't drop me," I whisper, and she lets go of me just enough to slide me down her torso. I turn and wrap my legs around her waist, letting out a small yelp as I cling to her body.

"Shh, if I was going to drop you," she threatens, "it would be from the top."

I do my best to look appalled. A wicked grin spreads over her face, and I lean up and stick my tongue out at her, touching the end of her nose with it.

I blame the whiskey.

At the end of the hall, a light clicks on, and Lisa hurries to the room we're sharing. "You woke them up," she says and places me on the bed. I lean down to remove my shoes, rubbing my sore ankles as I drop the monstrous shoes to the floor.

"Your fault," I say and walk past her and open the dresser drawer to dig out something more comfortable to sleep in. "This dress is killing me," I groan, reaching behind me to unzip it. It was much easier to zip it when I was sober.

"Here." Lisa moves behind me and brushes my hand aside. "What the hell?"

"What?"

Her fingers trace over my skin, raising goose bumps. "Your skin is red, like the dress left these marks on you." She touches a spot under my shoulder blade and pushes the fabric down my back until it hits the floor.

"It was really uncomfortable," I whine.

"I can see that." She circles me with hungry eyes. "Nothing is supposed to be marking you, except me."

I gulp. She's drunk, playful, and her dark eyes give away exactly what she's thinking.

"Come here." She steps toward me, closing the small gap between us. She's fully dressed, and I'm only in a bra and panties.

I shake my head. "No . . ." I know there's something I have to say to her, I just can't recall what it is. I can barely remember my name when she's looking at me this way.

"Yes," she counters, and I back away.

"I'm not having sex with you."

She grabs me by the arm and pushes her free hand into my hair, gently tugging at it so I'm forced to look up at her. Her breath fans across my face, her lips only inches from mine. "And why is that?" she asks.

"Because . . ." My mind scrambles for answers as my subconscious begs for the rest of my clothes to be torn off. "I'm upset with you."

"So? I'm upset with you, too." Her lips graze over my skin, trailing along my jawline. My knees are weak, my mind is heavy and cloudy.

I crinkle my brow and ask, "Why would you be? I didn't do anything." My stomach clenches when her hands move to my backside, squeezing and kneading slowly.

"Your little show on the bar was enough to send me to the fucking madhouse, not to mention the fact that you were parading around town with that fucking waiter; you disrespected me in front of everyone by staying with him." Her tone is threatening, but her lips are soft as they travel down to my neck. "I want you so bad, I wanted you at that shitty bar. After watching you dance like that, I wanted to take you into the bathroom and fuck you against the wall." She presses herself against me, and I can feel how hard she is.

As much as I want her, I can't allow her to blame everything on me.

"You . . ." I close my eyes, relishing the feeling of her hands on me, her lips on me. "You are the one . . ." I can't form a solid thought, let alone make a sentence. "Stop it."

I grab her hands to stop them from groping me further.

Her eyes flash, and she drops her hands to her sides. "You don't want me?"

"Of course I do, I always do. I just . . . I'm supposed to be mad."

"Be mad tomorrow," she says with that evil grin of her.

"I always do that, I need to—"

"Shh . . ." She covers my mouth with her lips and kisses me, hard. My lips part, and he takes full advantage, tugging at my hair once more, dipping her tongue into my mouth, and pulling me as close to her body as possible.

"Touch me," she begs, reaching for my hands. I don't have to be told twice; I want to touch her, and she needs the reassurance. This is the way we deal with things, and as unhealthy as it is, it doesn't feel that way when she's kissing me like this and begging me to put my hands on her.

I fumble for the buttons on her shirt, and she groans impatiently, using both hands to tug at either side of it, popping off the buttons.

"I liked that shirt," I say into her mouth, and she smiles, her lips against mine.

"I hated it."

I push the fabric down past her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her tongue is slow in my mouth, and I'm melting in her arms at the rough yet incredibly sweet kiss. I feel the anger and frustration behind her lips, but she does her best to hide it. She's always hiding.

"I know you'll leave me soon," she says, moving her lips down to my neck again.

"What?" I pull back a little, surprised by her words, and confused.

My heart aches for her, the liquor making me even more sympathetic toward her feelings. I love her, I love her so much. But she makes me feel so weak, so vulnerable. The moment I allow myself to believe she's worried, sad, or upset in any way, it's like all my emotions shift, only focusing on her and not myself or how I feel.

"I love you so," she whispers, dragging her thumb slowly across my lips. Her bare chest and torso look heavenly against her black jeans, and I know I'm at her complete mercy.

"Lisa, what—"

"Let's talk later. I want to feel you." She guides me to the bed, and I try to ignore my mind screaming at me to stop her, not to give in to her. I can't, though. I'm not strong enough to stop myself when her callused hands are running up my thighs, pushing them open slightly, when she's teasing me with an index finger running over my panties.

"Condom," I pant, and her bloodshot eyes meet mine.

"What if we don't use one? What if I come inside of you, you wouldn't be . . ."

But she stops herself, and I'm glad. I don't think I'm prepared for whatever it was she was going to say. She lifts herself off of me, stands to her feet, and saunters over to the suitcase on the floor. I lie back, staring at the ceiling, trying to sift through my drunken thoughts. Do I really need Seattle? Is Seattle important enough to me to lose Lisa? The pain that courses through me at the thought is nearly unbearable.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she says from across the room.

When I sit up, she's staring down at a small piece of paper in her hand.

"What the fuck is this?" she asks as her eyes meet mine.

"What?" I look down at the floor; my dress lies in a pile on the dark hardwood with my shoes. At first I'm a little confused, but then I look down and see my bra lying on the floor. Shit. I hop up quickly and attempt to grab the paper from her.

"Don't play stupid with me—you got his fucking number?" She gapes, holding the paper above her head so I have no chance of taking it back.

"It wasn't like that, I was mad and he was—"

"Bullshit!" she shouts.

Here we go. I know that look. I still remember the first time I saw that look on her face. She was pushing over the cabinet at her father's house the first time I saw her face twisted in anger this way. "Lisa—"

"Go on, call him. Let him fuck you—because I sure as hell don't want to."

"Don't overreact," I beg. I'm too drunk to get into a screaming match with her.

"Overreact? I just found another guy's number in your dress," she hisses through her teeth, jaw clenched in annoyance.

"You aren't innocent here either," I remark as she paces back and forth. "If you're going to yell at me, save your breath. I'm done fighting with you every single day," I say with a sigh.

She points at me angrily. "You do this! You're the one that constantly enrages me; it's your fault that I'm like this, and you know it!"

"No! No, it's not." I struggle to keep my voice down. "You can't blame everything on me. We both make mistakes."

"No, you make mistakes. A shit ton of them, and I'm sick of it." She tugs at her hair. "You think I want to be this way? Fuck no, I don't. You do this to me!"

I stay quiet.

"Go on, cry," she says, mocking me.

"I'm not going to cry."

Her eyes go wide. "Well, surprise, surprise." She claps her hands in the most degrading way possible.

I laugh. Which stops her.

"Why are you laughing?" She stares at me for a beat. "Answer me."

I shake my head. "You're fucked up. I mean colossally fucked up."

"And you're a selfish bitch. What else is new?" she snaps, and my laughter comes to an abrupt halt.

I rise from the bed without a word, without a tear, and grab a T-shirt and shorts from the drawer. I pull them on hastily as she watches me.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asks.

"Leave me alone."

"No, come here." She reaches for me and I desperately want to slap her, but I know she'll stop me.

"No, get off of me!" I shake my arm from her grip. "I'm done. I'm so done with this back-and-forth. I'm tired and exhausted, and I don't want to do it anymore. You don't love me—you want to possess me, and I won't let you." I look straight into her brilliant green eyes. Straight through them, and say, "You're broken, Lisa, and I can't fix you."

Her face falls at the realization of what she's done to me, and to herself, and she stands in front of me with all emotion pulled out of her. Her shoulders sink, and her eyes are no longer brilliant as she stares back at me, finally seeing a blank expression mirrored back at her. I have nothing left to say, she has nothing left to break inside of me or herself, and by the way the color has drained from her face, she's finally realized it.