CHAPTER 8: LONELY'S (Pt. 2)

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
You're as sweet as strawberry wine
You're as warm as a glass of brandy,
And honey I stay stoned on your love all the time.

(Tennessee Whiskey, Chris Stapleton)

CONTENT WARNING: ALCOHOL / DRINKING

WEDNESDAY
ALICE

Jasper pulls me towards the checkered dance floor, a look in his eyes I'm hooked on.

"You're pretty smooth for a country boy," I manage, my voice surprisingly confident considering how terrified I am.

This really isn't happening. It can't be happening.

Yes. If I'm being honest — yes, of course I want this. I want to experience the thrill of falling into Jasper headfirst. I want to weave myself into the electricity that flows between us. I want to plant myself in his life and see what grows.

I want a grand, life-changing kind of romance.

There's so much I want.

But more than that, I know what I need. Consistency. Stability. My Family. My home. None of which exist in Texas.

So I know — I'm sure — that there's nothing we can make of this. All this will ever is a drunken night shared between relative strangers. It's all I can allow. Because when I wake up Monday morning, I'll be alone. Just like I was the Monday before, and just like I'll be the Monday next. I'll be alone — in New York — and Jasper will be here, in Texas. That's reality.

Regardless, I convince myself that I'll be fine — that one dance with Jasper won't change anything between us. I can keep my head up above the water. I can get through this night — and this week — without leaving a piece of myself with this man.

I follow Jasper out to the edge of the crowd, drawn forward by the brightness of his smile and the tequila coursing through my veins.

It's a stupid decision.

The moment Jasper's hand land on my waist, I'm lost; my rock solid constitution more like pudding in his capable grip.

He chuckles at me, flashing pearly white teeth, and I just fall further and further. I laugh in return and then I'm spun around — twice! — before Jasper pulls me back against his chest. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the music vibrating through us both. It's a kind of connection I could get drunk on.

I move up onto the balls of my feet, trying to stretch myself taller so I can speak to Jasper over the roaring music. "Where'd you learn how to dance?" I ask him.

Jasper shakes his head. The hand he has on my upper back pulls me closer; close enough so I can hear him say, "you think I know what I'm doin'?"

I laugh again.

The song keeps going — upbeat and twangy — and Jasper and I keep on coming up with creative ways to get our hands back on each other. He catches my hand time and time again, to spin me around, or pull me closer, or to lead me around in some uncoordinated routine.

When the music changes, I half expect Jasper to let me go, or pull me back towards the table. He doesn't. Instead, he walks further into the crowd, pulling me along with him. We lose ourselves in a sea of plaid and jean, becoming one with the rushing current of bodies.

There's a lot less room for spinning here.

I ease my way into Jasper's grip, letting myself be fully enveloped by those strong arms of his. My hands land on his chest, only inches away from the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of his heart. I can feel him — that part that is so vitally Jasper — beating away, stronger and more sure than the bass shaking the floor under our feet.

We keep tangled in each other, watching with eyes wide open, and we clumsily move along to the music. I don't know what's playing. I don't care. The band could stop playing, if they wanted. The bar could shut down. The floor could disappear out from under our feet. It wouldn't matter — I'd still be here, locked in this man's embrace.

After another few songs, I'm hot and thirsty and overwhelmed by people, so I take Jasper's hand in my own and tug him back towards the bar. There's standing room only now, so I lean forward and reach out a hand to get Finch's attention. He comes over with a pleased smile on his face.

"What'll it be, sweetheart?"

I throw a quick glance over my shoulder at Jasper, who's smiling bigger than I've ever seen.

And maybe it's not the best idea — especially on an empty stomach — but something about tonight has me wanting to push a limit or two. So, instead of ordering water, I say:

"We'll take another round of tequila, please."

This shot burns less than the last. Or maybe I'm too focused on Jasper to notice. Either way, I down it quick and set the shot glass back on the counter, never blinking as I watch Jasper do the same.

When he drinks, Jasper tilts his head back, exposing the long, tanned line of his neck. My heart quickens in my chest, reverberating something I so very badly want to ignore: Jasper could have all of me, if he wanted it. It's no longer a question of 'pieces' — he's got me whole.

Jasper slams the shot glass back on the counter and laughs, breaking my focus.

I turn my eyes up to meet his and grin, unable to help myself.

"You havin' fun?" Jasper asks me, speaking loudly against the music.

I nod my head, shifting closer so I can reply. "Is that even a question?" I ask. Then: "I never pictured you to be much of a dancer."

Jasper moves back just far enough to look at me. He narrows his eyes, trying to look serious, but the playful smirk he wears tells me he's far from it. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he teases, voice throaty and all too good.

When he laughs full force, so do I.

I tilt my head to one side, mirroring Jasper's expression. "Guess I could say the same."

Jasper's hazel eyes dart off my face, and he lets out a breath of nervous laughter before looking back in my direction. "You know — I always liked a little mystery."

I flush red at his words, overwhelmed by the dawning realization that Jasper has been feeling exactly what I'm feeling — he's just as involved, just as drawn in, and just as unsure of what he's getting himself into. It's not just me. We're both lost.

"Is that what you're looking for?" I ask, testing the waters. "A little mystery?"

Jasper leans his elbow against the bar and takes his time looking around the room before he finally lands back on me. "No," he answers, a pleased smile on his face. "I wasn't lookin' for anythin'. But you — you showed up anyways."

I look away.

"It's like you fell out of the sky or somethin'," Jasper says. "Came right out of nowhere."

"Funny," I say.

"How's that?"

"That was one of the first things I thought when we met, that you 'came right out of nowhere'. I was half convinced you must've just … wandered out of the woods. There's no one like you in my world."

Jasper leans closer to me, his honey-coloured eyes darting to my mouth. "Well then — I'm glad you found me."

"A stroke of good luck for us both," I manage, barely in control of my own voice.

He shifts closer yet again, and I freeze in place. For a split second, I'm convinced Jasper is going to lean in and kiss me. Panic rises hot in my chest, but before it can explode into something unmanageable, Jasper stops. He blinks, expression shifting from flirtatious to something else — curious.

"Tell me more about it," Jasper says.

I take a moment to calm myself, dragging in deep breath after deep breath. When I finally regain an ounce of self-control, I answer: "about what?"

"Your world," Jasper drawls.

That little sliver of calm abandons me, leaving a gaping hole where my stomach used to be. My world - my confusing, damaged, imperfect world - is the last thing I want to be thinking about right now. My world is hundreds of miles away. My world doesn't include Texas, or this bar, or Jasper, and quite frankly, I don't want to pop that perfect little bubble of happiness I've found right here - far outside of my world.

"Well, this is my world," I say, dodging what should be an easy question to answer. "My work is my world. My job is — well, it's just about all I think about."

It's a part truth. Enough to satiate his curiosity.

"So, what? You were born 'n the first thing you thought was, 'I'm gonna design clothes one day'?" Jasper teases.

"Just about," I answer, my face exploding into an unexpected grin. The topic of my past is a touchy one, but fashion? My passion? I could discuss that all day. "I've always loved creating," I say. "Making things. Sewing Halloween costumes. Drawing any little thing I could dream up — "

"Your drawings are beautiful," he blurts out.

Jasper's sincerity warms me from the inside out. I squirm on the spot, too busy remembering how Jasper saved a majority of those beautiful drawings too actually respond to his compliment.

"I mean, the detail — the care — you put into every single one of those pictures? That's more than a God-given talent. That's passion. Love. Screams right off the page."

When I still fail to answer, Jasper keeps speaking.

"You make it look easy," he explains.

"I'm glad I've got you all fooled," I scoff.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" I shoot back.

"Pretend like you're not as talented as you actually are."

"You really think that?"

Jasper nods his head, his thick eyebrows rising towards his hairline. "You don't?" He asks, almost accusatorially.

I try to force out a laugh, but it comes out choked — startled.

"I uh, I know I work hard for what I have. And I know that I haven't stopped working since I was young, and I won't stop until someone forcibly stops me. I don't know if that's talent," I relay, "or just a penchant for hard-work."

That has Jasper smiling.

"Can't it be both?" He asks.

I duck my head in a pathetic attempt to hide the blush that's bloomed across my cheeks. Jasper has a way of igniting both my modesty and my hubris, all in one fell swoop.

"I guess — it just doesn't always feel that way," I say, mindlessly shifting my weight to my other foot. "Most of the time, you know, it just feels like I'm walking a very, very thin line."

"Between?"

It's hard to find the right words between Jasper's fervent stare and the alcohol coursing through my system. I think hard — scrunching my face as I do — and eventually land on something I think Jasper will be able to understand.

"Between determination and doubt," I answer simply.

Jasper echoes my words.

"Yeah," I say. "Like — I'm — I'm so sure of what I want, but I can't ever shake the feeling that I'm going to fail."

He chews at his bottom lip, head nodding along as I speak. Jasper's eyes leave my face, seemingly searching the floor for some kind of answer. I watch him, ready to try explaining again, when Jasper's hazel eyes are suddenly on mine.

"I think there's a word for that line you're walkin'," he drawls.

I can only blink at him in response.

"Brave," he says. "It's called being brave."

"That's being a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"You're followin' your dream no matter the cost," Jasper tells me. "You believe in yourself enough to keep fightin', which is maybe the bravest thing you can do. Believin' in other people is easy. Believin' in yourself? That's —" Jasper lets out a hollow little laugh. "That's a lot harder."

My feelings for Jasper grow stronger with every word that leaves his crooked mouth. He's nothing like men I've known — he's strong, compassionate, understanding, attractive, hardworking ... he's Jasper. I'm desperate to see myself how he sees me — beautiful, talented, brave. I want to be that woman more than I want air to breathe.

"So I just keep walking the line?" I ask, stretching my body taller so I can get closer to him.

"Yeah," Jasper answers. "You just keep walkin' the line."

"Being brave," I clarify.

"Being brave," Jasper confirms, nodding his head dutifully.

When he speaks, I feel hopeful. When he speaks, I feel strong. I'm caught up in the simplistic wonder of his words, too overwhelmed by it all to come up with a response that conveys my gratitude and awe, all at once.

What I lack in eloquence I make up for in action. Without pulling my eyes off Jasper, I grasp his hands in mine. I squeeze them tight, turn my mouth up into a smile, and start walking us both towards the dance floor. Speaking would be pointless — there are no words in my vocabulary to express the complicated mess of emotions I'm experiencing. But maybe if he holds me close enough, Jasper will be able to feel what I'm feeling, pouring out of me with every breath I take.

I stop with Jasper near the middle of the crowd, and like we'd never left in the first place, Jasper brings me back against his chest.

Closer, this time.

The lights of the bar flash around us, a concoction of neon and dusty yellow, and the upbeat music played earlier has been replaced by the slow, unforgettable chords of a song I've always loved — Harvest Moon.

The pleased smile on Jasper's face tells me he likes it, too.

I reach my hand around his waist and spread my fingers out across his strong, cotton-clad back. It's all too easy to pull Jasper even closer, despite our considerable difference in size.

Jasper's left hand is on my back, so light I can barely feel it, and his right hand holds mine just the same. We stay like that, pressed tight against each other, and move in our own slow, docile orbit.

I want to put my head on his chest, close my eyes, and give myself to this man. Jasper makes it seem easy, like his warm embrace would make the perfect home for my heavy heart. With his arms strong around me, I find myself thinking, maybe this is a safe place. The thought wanders through my mind and alarm bells sound, all but startling me right out of Jasper's arms.

This is not home, I remind myself. Don't get too comfortable here.

I look at Jasper and that other, more confident voice in my head sounds again: you want him, it insists.

My stupid, logical brain fights back: you're leaving on Sunday!

I go back and forth.

Hold on to him.

He's going to disappear.

You need him.

It's only going to hurt!

Let it hurt.

That voice gets louder —

Let it hurt!

— Until it's deafening.

Let it hurt!

Until it's all I can think.

Let it hurt.

Jasper tightens his grip on my waist, an attempt to close that distance between us, and I let him. He leans his head against mine, and I can feel him smiling against my temple.

Something solidifies in my chest, at the feeling of his lips on my skin. I can't ignore it anymore, how deeply and truly I want this man. This isn't just aimless flirting. This isn't just one night. This is —

This is —

All I've ever wanted was love. When I was six years old, waiting alone at school for a parent who'd never show up, I craved it. When I was ten, afraid of the strangers who called me their own, I prayed to accept it. When I was nineteen and thought I'd found it, I was blinded by it. When I was twenty and that so-called 'love' I found disappeared overnight, I cried for it. I begged for it.

Now, at twenty-three — standing in a bar toe-to-toe with a beautiful man — I hold the fragile beginnings of what could maybe, potentially be an earth-shattering kind of love. I've got it right here, in my hands.

Do I let love breathe? Do I nourish it? Covet it as my own? Do I finally let myself feel what it might be like — real, true, good love?

Or do I crush it? Succumb to my fear and let it crumble away in my grip?

No.

I don't have the strength for that.

Suddenly it seems ridiculous that'd I'd ever try to avoid something as inevitable as Jasper. My heart has wanted Jasper since the moment it first knew him.

I want him so badly.

And we're running out of time.

"Jasper — " I say, forcing my eyes open.

I can feel his breath on my face — warm, smelling sharply of the alcohol we've been drinking. His lips — his chapped, plump lips — are so close. One strong gust of air could just push us together.

Jasper shifts, pulling back just far enough to look me in the eye. He's smiling — absolutely, obliviously happy. "What is it?" Jasper breathes.

All of my words are lost to that damn smile.

My hand pulls out of his and reaches up to curl under the collar of his shirt. I grip the fabric hard and tug, pulling Jasper across those final few inches of space.

His lips are warm on mine.

Perfect.

For one split second —

Perfect.

Jasper's hands land on either side of my face. His touch, like a brandishing iron against my skin, is all too gentle compared to the ferocity of our kiss. Jasper holds me — he cradles my face — and in an instant, he's got me convinced that I'm made of something much more fragile than skin and bone.

I fall back on my heels, but I keep head turned up to stare wide-eyed at Jasper's face. When our kiss breaks, Jasper's eyes flutter open, his mouth twitches up into a smile.

Dear God - what am I doing?

His thumb brushes over my cheek - still impossible hot against my skin - until his fingers are buried in my hair. That gentleness still exists in his touch, but there's something else, too. Desperation. Jasper tugs me closer. I stumble over my own two feet and knock into him rather ungracefully, feeling all elbows and awkward angles against his hard chest. Jasper doesn't so much as flinch.

Our second kiss is rushed. Clumsy.

I'm determined to remember every moment of it.

I can feel him smiling against my mouth. I can feel his hands tangled in my hair. I can feel his nose, where it brushes up against my cheek. When Jasper is touching me, I wholeheartedly believe that this thing — this powerful, all-consuming thing we've started — is possible.

My hands slide up from his chest, one on each side of his long, tanned neck. I slide my fingertips upwards, exploring the muscular expanse of his skin and the hard, definite line of his jaw. The skin on his face is rough — stubbly after a long day of work — and the coarseness burns a fire in my belly. Jasper's curls are just out of reach, but if I stretch, stand on the tips of my toes, I can grab handfuls of gold.

His mouth slants against mine and I think, this is right.

I think: this is what brave looks like.

A/N: AHHHH

GUYS

I'M SORRY! I expected writing this update to take me a day or two, not a whole week! I got hit with a cold & I'm just getting back to real life these past few days! And real life means jalice. Always.

SO I GUESS HERE WE GO! This is the point I was super freakin' excited to get to so hopefully I'll power through the next few chapters! Fingers crossed!

A MASSIVE SHOUTOUT TO LILDARLINAJ WHO HELPED ME WORK THROUGH A FEW KINKS I HAD WITH THIS CHAPTER! MY GRATITUDE IS ETERNAL.

As always, any inspiration for the chapter can be found on my tumblr - twihard . tumblr . com . This week had a lot of musical inspiration, so I'll have a little playlist up there as well!