CHAPTER NINE: RUNNING ON CAFFEINE, HOPE, AND YOU.
Maybe time running out is a gift
I'll work hard 'til the end of my shift
And give you every second I can find
And hope it isn't me who's left behind
(If We Were Vampires, Jason Isbell)
WEDNESDAY
JASPER
It's instantaneous. Our lips meet in the back of some dusty dive bar, and I'm sure - I'm absolutely positive - that this woman will be forever cemented in my mind. Alice is unforgettable. Alice is inevitable. Alice is the direction I'm headed. I know it in that split second that our mouths first touch, and I'm even more certain of it with every second that passes after we part. She's on my mind all through the night. I don't sleep. I don't settle. I toss and turn and stare at the measly wall separating Alice's bedroom from mine. She runs through my mind like a dripping faucet, just there every few seconds, an unrelenting - Alice, Alice, Alice.
Even the squawking beep of my alarm clock seems to say her name.
As distracted as I am, I'm equally tired. It's a chore to drag my body out of bed and across the room, to undress myself, to even consider getting in the shower. I move on auto-pilot, propelled forward by one thought, and one thought alone: I'll see her today. If I can just get through a monotonous morning of feeding livestock and answering emails, I'll see her.
That promise gets me in the shower. Warm water splashes against my head and down my back, lulling me into a space where sleep - - the very same sleep that evaded me minutes and hours before - settles heavy around me. I'm tired. So tired. I lean my forehead against the cool tile of the shower and close my eyes, hoping to find rest for one uninterrupted moment.
We tumble out the front doors — Alice first, and me right behind. She's particularly giggly, her breath coming out in quick, eager pants between the glorious sound of her laughter. Cool night air swirls around us both and Alice stops dead in her tracks to breathe it in, eyes fluttering shut.
She steps further into the darkness and tilts her face up towards the sky. "I think it's raining," she announces, finally catching her breath. Alice's pale white skin is stark against the pitch-black night, like a sliver of the moon stuck here on earth. She lifts her hands from her sides, palms up, and stretches out her fingers like she's trying to catch a raindrop.
I follow suit, moving out from under the cover of Lonely's awning. She's right — it's spitting rain, just barely, a fine mist settling over everything.
"Come on," I insist, reaching out to hold onto one of Alice's hands. "The taxi won't be here for a few minutes. We can wait under here, where it's dry."
Alice curls her fingers around mine, but instead of following my lead, she tugs me back in her direction. "No," she says gently. "Stay here with me."
I come up to stand beside Alice, unable to say no to her sweet demand. Our hands keep clasped tightly between us.
"I've always liked the rain," Alice mumbles, right before tilting her head to lean it against my arm.
I stand there long enough for the water to start running cool. When I open my eyes, morning light is pouring in through the fogged shower door. I'm behind schedule already - a theme I expect to continue throughout the day - and the sun growing bigger in the sky taunts me, reminding me that last night is over. Last night is gone. I have to focus on today, on what's right in front of me.
On days like today, when I feel almost too tired to move, I am entirely resentful of this Goddamn place. I hate the ranch. Bitterly. I hate that I can't take a sick day. I can't show up late. Living, breathing people are relying on me. Animals are relying on me. An entire ecosystem survives at my hand. I can't lie in bed nursing a hangover, or play a hookie on a whim. I've got to do what I do every single day, and so does everyone else here. Like the inner workings of any machine - one part goes missing and the whole thing collapses.
So I get out of the shower. I get dressed. I click my belt buckle into place, and I step into my boots, left haphazardly at the end of my bed. I head out for work, whether I like it or not.
Out in the hall, I can see that Rosalie's bedroom light is still off. Alice must still be asleep. Good. We only got home - Jesus Christ, less than four hours ago.
Alice clings to Rosalie's door. One of her hands is curled around the handle, the other grips the frame. She wobbles back and forth — a side effect, I assume, from the third shot of tequila we both had — and she smiles a goofy, wide smile.
"Goodnight," Alice says, voice sugar-sweet.
It's the third time we've gone through this routine.
"Goodnight," I say again, grinning.
She laughs. "Goodnight."
Fourth time.
She looks up at me. I look back. Neither of us blink, or breathe, or move from our current position. The world spins around us, bringin' the sunrise closer and closer. Maybe we'll go through the whole day just like this — standing right here. I won't move so long as she doesn't.
I can't stop smiling. "Goodnight."
I tiptoe past the door, hoping the creaking of century old floorboards under my feet doesn't wake her. I take the stairs the same way, expertly avoiding spots I know will groan under my weight. I get downstairs silently, thanks to years of practice sneaking out past curfew.
The air outside sticks to my skin, awful humid and too heavy, like the clouds hanging dark way off in the distance. It rained overnight - just barely - but I've got a feeling we're in for a real storm at some point today. I'll have to reinforce the tarps up over the wrecked cabin, I think. That'll be priority number one.
I find Peter walking towards the north barn. He's got a white, ceramic mug in his hands; one I know to come straight out of his own kitchen. When I walk closer, I smell his strong-brewed, black coffee. It has my mouth watering. "Charlotte make a cup for me, too?" I ask him.
Peter lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, bringin' the drink up to his lips for another sip. "No," he says, "jus' enough for me. Husband perks."
I nod my head in reply, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that shoots down my spine. There's something that sounds so nice about honest-to-God domesticity first thing in the morning. Peter's found something wonderful with Charlotte - the same kind of special, devoted relationship I remember my parents having, back when I was young. My Mother and Father loved each other deeply, so much so that it became a defining characteristic of them both. They were best friends. Selflessly devoted to the other. Even as a child, I was determined to find that same kind of happy. I'm glad Peter's found that, of course, I love Charlotte like family. I just want it for myself. Desperately. And I believe I'll find it, really.
Maybe I'm in the middle of it.
"Where the Hell you'd get off to last night?" Peter asks. "Your truck's gone. Seth needed it to get into town this morning."
… I'd forgotten about my truck.
"Ah, shit," I say. "I left it down at Lonely's." I reach up to readjust the hat on my head, mentally chastising myself for my irresponsible behaviour last night. I should've stuck to one drink - maybe two - but around Alice I find myself inclined to indulge in all kinds of ways.
Peter shoots me a disapproving look. "You spendin' your nights down at Lonely's again?"
"No," I reply sharply, too tired for his inquisition. "I went with Alice." Before Peter can pipe up with any inappropriate comments, I keep talkin'. "Can you meet me 'round front in an hour? I shouldn't leave the truck there."
I look up to see Peter smiling wide at me. "Well, of course I can."
"Don't," I say back to him, waving off his playful enthusiasm.
"Don't what, Jasper?" He throws back teasingly. It's not often that Peter uses my actual name.
I just huff and turn on my heel.
"What should I tell Charlotte?" Peter shouts after me. "Was she right about you 'n Alice or what she right?"
I wave him off again, pretending to the best of my ability not to understand what he's asking. "I got shit to do."
We return to the bar for a third time at Alice's request, in search of a glass of water. She's red in the face — delightfully so — and I have a feeling my kissing her might have something to do it. Hell — I'm pretty flushed, myself.
The two of us chug water like fish on dry land.
Finch watches us awful suspiciously. I look at him and think, 'yeah, alright, maybe it's somethin' like a date. What are you gonna do about it?' I mean — there's no use pretending we're here for business after all that just went down on the dance floor.
He walks over to us with a shit-eating grin, fumbling around with the bar cloth in his hands. "You two want anythin' else? Gonna be closin' up bar soon."
I look to Alice, whose face has softened from red to pink. She glances back at me. The second our eyes meet, she explodes into a fit of laughter.
"Fuck it," she says. "One more round."
As thoroughly as I enjoy my solitary early morning routine, I'm eager to slip back into the house, into the little bubble of space where Alice and I coexist. I cut corners, delegate tasks to workers who pass me by — anything to get me back to the house in time to see Alice before Peter comes knockin'.
I get back inside with more than enough time to spare. Enough time to brew myself a cup of coffee, and sit down with the newspaper. It's last week's paper, admittedly, but it's the best I've got.
The creak of Rosalie's door opening upstairs alerts me that Alice is awake and headed my way. I hear her pad down the hall, then the stairs, and I restrain myself from looking up to watch her approach. I focus on any and everything but her lithe figure descending the stairs. I watch the clock hanging across the room, moving steadily past seven, I look out the window, I scan over the newspaper, I watch the table —
"Hi," Alice says. Her voice is hoarse. Her mouth is locked in a tight-lipped smile.
That mouth.
Her mouth on my mouth feels natural, right, like waves crashing against the shore.
She tastes like liquor and salt.
Alice breaks the kiss and I struggle to find the control to open my eyes. I do, somehow, and she's right there. Smiling. God, she's smiling like I've never seen before. My thumb brushes across her porcelain cheek and she's so delightfully soft that I find myself inclined to do the same again. Blush spreads wherever I touch. She laughs, eyes wide as they stare into mine.
My hands wind up in Alice's hair, fingers curling into her choppy black locks. She tumbles towards me and I meet her half-way, our lips colliding along with everything else. I kiss her. And I kiss her. And I kiss her.
Her warm hands land on my neck. One of my mine drops down to her waist, snaking around to her back. I grab a good fistful of that red dress and bring her closer by it, doing all I can to deepen the kiss, to get as much Alice as physically possible. She reaches further up, hands tangling into my hair. I lean closer, shifting our centre of balance. We both start to tumble. Alice laughs against my mouth. I start laughing, too. We break apart and she stares at me good and hard before jumping up to press one last, quick kiss to my lips. I can't remember how to breathe.
I finally look up, setting my paper down on the table. My fingers fidget once they're empty, my adrenaline levels all too high for someone sitting doing nothing. "Good morning," I reply.
She's wearing another dress today. Sky blue, this time. Her hair is still damp, hanging limp and inky black around her angular face. With each step closer, I notice more. Alice's eyes are decorated with dark purple bags, like bruises. Her skin is paler than usual. She smells of shampoo and soap and sunscreen. Alice crosses into the dining room and stops to stand across the table from me. Her big blue eyes are searching my face for something. Comfort, I think.
She looks like Alice, sounds like Alice too, but something is different.
I smile gently, trying to soften the nervousness rolling off of her in tsunami-force waves.
"Coffee?" I ask. An olive branch.
She blinks, dragging her eyes off of my face to stare at the half-empty cup sittin' in front of me. "Yes," she firmly says. "God, yes. I'm exhausted. I need caffeine."
"You didn't sleep well?" I ask, standing from my chair.
Alice hovers in place when I move, wringing her little hands together. She laughs, breathy and quiet, and when I start moving, she shadows me towards the kitchen. "I slept like a rock," Alice tells me, "but not for very long."
I glance over my shoulder at Alice, throwing her a playful kind of smile. "Guess neither did I," I answer.
She doesn't smile back. Anxiety settles like a heavy rock in my stomach. There's something wrong.
"What time did we get home last night?" Alice asks me timidly.
This woman — this quiet, timid thing — is nothing like the Alice I've come to know over the past few days.
"Three-ish, I think."
I flick the light on in the kitchen, illuminating floor-to-ceiling mahogany and granite. Like the rest of my house, this kitchen has remained unchanged since my childhood. It was the heart of the home once — filled with knick-knacks and childhood drawings, stocked for a family of four and the massive collection of friends they kept. Nowadays, my kitchen is lucky to see life once a day. The fridge is empty, save for some old film, and the only thing inside my pantry is instant coffee.
It's never bothered me until now.
I stand off to the side as Alice wanders into the space, feeling its coldness as starkly as I do.
Before walking over to the coffee maker — the one appliance I actually know how to use - I stop to pull out a seat at the kitchen island.
Alice shuffles over to my side and sits down, tucking the skirt of her dress under herself as she does. "Thank you," Alice says. It's painfully obvious that she's trying hard not to look at me.
It's just nerves, I tell myself. We've landed ourselves in an awkward spot, and she's still processin' that. Give her time. Don't worry. Give her time.
I go off to start on her coffee, giving Alice as much space as the kitchen will allow.
"I don't have much in the house, but there's bacon 'n eggs in the mess kitchen if you want," I say, figuring breakfast is far easier to discuss than whatever strange, uncharted territory Alice and I wandered into last night.
"I'm not very hungry," she admits. "Coffee's fine."
The machine comes to life with an aching groan, slowly spilling black liquid into the pot below.
"How d'you take your coffee?"
"Milk and sugar."
How do I tell her I don't even have milk in the house?
I hesitate, Alice's mug in hand. Last night, conversation flew freely. Now we're struggling through stagnant, monosyllabic sentences.
I slowly turn around, and say: "Oh — shit. I, uh — I finished the milk this mornin'. Totally forgot."
Alice is sitting with her elbows on the island counter, her forehead resting in the palms of her hands. When I speak, her head snaps up, and she forces her body back into proper posture. She waves me off. "That's alright," Alice tiredly replies, "just sugar."
I walk over to the cabinet and pull out my Mom's old sugar bowl, glad to find that there's still some inside.
Once I've got Alice set up with caffeine, the woman comes to life. It's almost funny how quick the change is — like the first sip flicks a switch in her head. Her cheeks flush with colour, the blue of her eyes goes bright.
I pour myself a new cup instead of retreating into the dining room for my half finished drink and go to sit beside Alice at the counter.
She turns to face me better, her mouth pulled into a humble smile. "You didn't get much sleep either?" She asks.
None.
"A bit," I say. "Just enough."
Alice nods her head and we sit in silence, side by side, like nothing is out of the ordinary. In reality, everything is different. I nurse my coffee and watch Alice do the same, wondering how exactly to broach the subject of our drunken rendezvous.
"I'm sorry about last night," Alice mutters, before I get the chance to say anything. If I hadn't fallen so in-tune with the sound of her voice, it would have been too quiet to register.
I look up from my cup of coffee and turn in Alice's direction, both eyebrows raised in question. She isn't looking at me anymore. Alice's posture is set in stone — her shoulders slouched, head bowed, eyes glued to the marble countertop. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of her back, I wouldn't be so sure Alice was even breathing.
"For what?" I ask, incredulous.
"I mean, I practically jumped you." She still doesn't look my way.
To ease the tension squeezing my lungs, I let out a breath of laughter. Alice doesn't move, but flushes beet red. "Oh, come on now," I say to her. "You're serious? You're really tellin' me you're sorry for that?"
When Alice frowns in my general direction, my attitude shifts.
"Oh," I say. "You are serious."
I don't regret anything that happened at Lonely's last night, but part of me worries that I should. All morning, I'd been operating on the assumption that last night was the beginning of something meant-to-be, that Alice and I found a perfect vantage point together, up on cloud nine. Now I'm starting to think I'm up here alone. She's uncomfortable, I worry. Look what you've done.
Alice blinks frantically, hurriedly shifting her position to look me dead in the eye. "We were drinking," she exclaims, by way of explanation.
"We were," I agree.
"We barely know each other."
"Then we should get to know each other better," I say.
"Yes," she hesitantly replies. "Ideally, yes. But —"
"But we don't have a lot of time," I guess.
She gives a quick bob of her head in reply. "That's an understatement."
"Look," I say, "it's okay. I'm not upset. I'm not sorry that you - that we kissed. I couldn't be sorry if I wanted to be. Honestly, Alice. Last night was — it was a lot of fun. I know it certainly … complicates things, but I've never been one to back out of a complicated situation."
Alice tentatively peeks in my direction. It's almost too quick to register, but I think I see her smile, too. "So you enjoyed yourself?"
"Of course I did," I assure. "But you 'n I could be watchin' paint dry and I'd say the same thing."
Alice's apprehensive smile widens, her shoulders relax away from her ears. She opens her mouth to say something, but it snaps shut at the sound of the back door creaking open.
Peter's booming voice echoes through the house. "Whit! Where ya at, man? We've got to get movin'."
I let out a huff and turn back to Alice, who's busy tucking her hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry," I say quickly, "I asked Pete to take me in'ta town to pick up the truck." I offer her my best apologetic smile and stand from my seat just as Peter walks through the door.
"Ah — g'morning, Miss Alice," Peter says, a Cheshire-cat grin spreading across his snarky face.
Alice forces a smile, cradling her coffee cup in two hands. "Hello, Peter," she says. "You seem chipper this morning."
Peter chuckles. "You seem pretty tired," he notes, lookin' from Alice to me. "The both of you," he teases. "Should I even ask what y'all got up to last night?"
I gape at Peter. "No," I say too quickly — too loudly — for anyone to be comfortable. I clear my throat, and shoot Peter a death glare. "No," I repeat, softly this time. "We should go. We've got to get the truck back here by eight."
I can't find it in me to turn and look at Alice. Peter can't seem to look away from her.
"Well alright then," he says, smile only growing. "I guess I'll be seein' you later, Miss Alice."
"You sure will, Peter," Alice says. She sounds just as annoyed as I feel.
Maybe we're both just exhausted.
Peter turns to head back out the door, but the amplified awkward tension stays behind.
Before turning around, I force a deep breath in through my nose, and out through my mouth. I need Alice to see me calm — composed — like I have some idea what I'm doing; like I my head is in control of my heart, not the other way around.
When I turn around, I see that Alice has turned her entire body away from the counter. She's facing me — coffee completely abandoned on the island — with her hands folded in her lap.
"Can we talk later?" She quietly asks. "Please?"
"Of course," I answer. "I'll be workin' all day —"
"So will I." " — But later," I finish. "We'll talk. I promise."
Her pale pink lips pull into the slightest smile.
I smile back and give a curt nod of my head.
I'm on my way out the kitchen door when I hear Alice say: "thank you for the coffee."
So badly, I want to say: thank you kissing me. Thank you for waking me up. Thank you for making me feel alive for the first time in a long time. Thank you for picking this place — out of all the places — to photograph your collection. I don't say anything. I just go. Silently.
The second we're outside, my front door shut tight, Peter claps his hands onto my shoulders. "You freakin' dog!" He says, leaning in to make some sorta hollerin' noise in my ear.
"Jesus Christ," I say, flinching away from him. "It's seven thirty in the mornin', Pete. You've got to calm down." I shove Peter off and start walking towards his old black truck, which he's got pulled up around the front of the house.
"Didn't you sleep at all last night?" Peter asks. I ignore his question, silently making my way down the driveway.
I get in the passenger's seat of the truck. Peter gets in the driver's seat and shoves me across the centre console. "Hey," he says, "you gonna tell me what happened or what?"
I look out the window, but I know that Peter won't halt his inquisition until I give him some kind of answer. "Nothin' happened," I weakly insist.
Peter starts up the truck, his face pulled into an exasperated expression all the while.
"Nothin' at all?"
I lean back in the seat and put my elbow up by the window. Like this, I can rest my tired head in my hand.
I consider leavin' it there; letting Peter think that absolutely nothing happened between Alice and I, save for a few drinks shared between friends. But I can't help myself. Peter's my best friend. I know I'm gonna tell him one way or another.
"I mean — she kissed me," I admit, right as Peter starts pulling down the driveway. When I speak, his foot drops heavy on the gas and we lurch forward.
Peter gawks at me. "She kissed you?" He asks, slowly starting the truck up again.
I rub my tired eyes. "Yeah," I say. "At the bar. She just — she just up 'n kissed me, Pete."
Peter smiles, eyes darting in my direction once, twice, three times.
"What?" I ask.
"I owe Charles twenty bucks," he answers.
"Yeah, well, you're both way more sure about this than she is."
Peter watches me intently, his fervent glances more obnoxious than any outright questions he could ask. I have nothing else to say. He can stare as long as he pleases.
All ten miles into town, I'm thinking on Alice. Her ghost, dressed up in red and giggling with joy, follows me back to my truck, and all through town as I run the errands Seth was planning to take care of this morning. I can't shake the feeling that she's right here with me, following me through this monotonous day.
It's already after lunch by the time I get back to the ranch.
I pass Quil in the driveway, washing up Peter's truck, and he welcomes me with a nod of his head. I park a few feet away from him and hop out, waving him over as soon as I do. Quil drops the hose he's holding, letting it drain water out onto the red-dirt ground. He saunters over to me.
"You piss off Peter?" I ask, nodding towards the truck he's been cleaning.
"Lost a bet," Quil quips. I huff a laugh.
"Well, enough of that. Gimme a hand, will you?"
Quil is quick to start helping me unload feed from the back of the truck. We make quick work of getting the dozen or so fifty-pound bags I've got loaded up out of the truck bed, carrying them one by one towards the shed closest to my house.
It's hotter than Hell outside - the sun still all too present among the grey clouds that circle above - so we both work through the pile slowly, pacing ourselves.
By the time I'm hauling the last bag, my hands are burned from the burlap, my shoulders ache, my back is slick with sweat. My sleepless night is catching up with me fast, leaving me to half-ass jobs I usually finish with ease. I abandon my last bag outside the shed, knowing someone'll have to take it down to the coop tonight anyways, and wait for Quil to finish up inside.
I lean my tired body up against the old wooden structure, sucking in shallow breaths of humid air.
Off in the distance, I spot that photographer of Alice's. They must be comin' back for the day, I think at first, but the longer I watch, I'm less sure. None of the girls are with James - especially not Alice. I think he's wanderin' around by himself.
I'm staring intently enough to witness the split second in which James notices me. He halts his step, stares, and then turns to stalk in my direction with his head down and his eyes narrowed. A very familiar feeling churns in my gut.
I've seen enough chargin' bulls to know when trouble's coming.
Quil wanders out of the shed, wiping his hands off his jeans. He turns his head in the direction I'm lookin' and spots the man charging towards us both. He eyes me nervously. "Boss?"
I shake my head. "Go see if Peter needs you," I sternly say. "We're fine here."
Quil listens - thank God - and leaves just in time for James to reach me.
The first words out of his mouth hit harder than I expect. "You snake," he bellows, getting right up in my face. "You fucking snake!" "James," I calmly say.
"You think she wouldn't tell me what happened?"
It doesn't take long for me to fill in the blanks. If Alice told James 'what happened', then he knows all about the bar, and the dancing, and the kiss. James thinks I've stolen a night that he's waited two years to have; something he confided in me only hours before I did. I shake my head, ready to explain that I fell ass backwards into whatever happened last night. "James -"
"She thinks you're a decent person," he says, voice overflowing with anger.
"I'm sorry," I quickly reply. "I know you had plans. I promise you, I had none. Things just -"
"You got her drunk," he snarls.
I feel all the colour leavin' my face. "I can assure you, Alice knows how to hold her own," I insist. "No one got her drunk. She's her own woman."
James' hands come up quick, and he shoves me hard. I take a full step back, raising my hands in a show of surrender. He steps back too, all jumpy and unsettled. I plant myself steady on the ground, ready for his nervous energy to erupt in my direction at any given moment.
"Whoa, look - I know you're angry. I know you feel you gotta do somethin' about it. But I'm not gonna fight you, man."
"You don't know what you're doing," James says. "You gotta fucking leave her alone."
"I will," I say, eyes narrowing. "If Alice asks me to, I will."
Over James' shoulder, I see the back door to my house slide open. Alice rushes outside, a flurry of blue fabric, and she lands herself right between us. She faces James, staring down the angry bull like the smallest, bravest matador I've ever laid eyes on.
"What is going on here?" She demands. When James fails to answer, Alice throws a glance in my direction. I catch her eye, but only briefly. Alice's focus is back on James all too quick. "I can hear you shouting from upstairs," she tells him.
"Why don't you ask your precious fucking cowboy what happened," James bitterly answers.
Alice's posture falters. "James," she says. I can hear the realization ringing clear as church bells in her voice. I'm surprised it took her this long to catch on - the man wears his emotions clear as day on his face. He's so obviously in love with her, it's almost sickening to watch.
She takes a step forward, one hand reaching up towards James' shoulder.
"No," he snaps. "Two fucking years - I waited two fucking years for you, Alice. You knew how I felt. I told you - back when we first met, I told you. And you told me you weren't ready."
"I wasn't," she answers, confidence dwindling. "But I thought -"
"You thought what?"
"I thought you moved on," Alice says. "We're friends. We're just -"
"Oh, fuck that."
James' body moves in Alice's direction and my neanderthal brain kicks in. All in one swift movement, I take hold of Alice's wrist and tug her back, shifting to put myself between her and the other man. "Hey," I say; a low, urgent warning.
I hear Alice's breath hitch in her throat.
James glares up at me, looking more like a petulant child than a predator up close. I expect him to shout some more, maybe even hit me, but James just snarls, his mouth twisting up into something ugly.
Then he spits at my shoes, and pushes past us.
"James!" Alice's shrill voice splits through the air like a bullet.
I turn to watch Alice stomp after him, a formidable ball of pissed off, but she stops abruptly after a few steps.
We're being watched. Her entire team is hovering only ten feet away, watching slack-jawed as James hurries back towards his cabin. One of them, a blonde, turns in our direction and sees that they've been noticed. The group disperses quickly after that.
"Alice," I carefully say. She doesn't budge.
"Alice, I'm sorry. I don't know what - "
She finally looks at me. Her watery blue eyes and flushed cheeks hold a vice-grip on my heart. "It's not your fault," Alice mutters, looking back in the direction James' direction. I don't quite believe her. "It's - I've just - I should - I need to talk to him - I need to go."
"Alice."
"Please, Jasper," she begs.
I snap my mouth shut - despite every fibre of my being aching against it - and let Alice hurry off after James.
Alice clings to Rosalie's door. One of her hands is curled around the handle, the other grips the frame. She wobbles back and forth — a side effect, I assume, from the third shot of tequila we both had — and she smiles a goofy, wide smile.
"Goodnight," Alice says, voice sugar-sweet.
It's the third time we've gone through this routine.
"Goodnight," I say again, grinning.
She laughs. "Goodnight."
Fourth time.
She looks up at me. I look back. Neither of us blink, or breathe, or move from our current position. The world spins around us, bringing the sunrise closer and closer. Maybe we'll go through the whole day just like this — standing right here. I won't move so long as she doesn't.
I can't stop smiling. "Goodnight."
The moment plays through my mind for what feels like the hundredth time today. This time, I'm certain I should've kissed her. Right then, standing outside Rosalie's room, I should've kissed her. It would've been a good last kiss, if last night is really all we'll ever get.
A/N:
Again, a super special thank you to LITTLEDARLINGAJ who has been a massive, massive help in getting these past two chapters out into the universe!
I'm hoping to start steadily putting out chapters on TUESDAY NIGHTS, so come back 'round 9PM EST next Tuesday for your next update!
As always, comments & follows are so so appreciated & I love you all for sticking with this! Keep reading on !