If I Can't Have You…
Chapter 7
Author's Note: It's almost disco time! And I'm excited, but also I'm truly very apprehensive about this chapter. Please please please, if you read it, take a quick moment to review and let me know what you think? Is it too long? Is it too moody? Are they out of character? Keep me posted on your thoughts, and I hope I don't let anyone down with this….
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Jackie Burkhart was feeling very conflicted. Her last lesson with Steven was in approximately sixteen minutes, and she was still undecided on whether sharing any information from her girl talk with Donna, specifically that he was stuck in the much-feared "friend only zone," was a good idea. On the one hand, she could tell him, and watch disappointment twitch across his face until he fought it back with his ever-watchful shield of apathy. She would know that she'd hurt him, however good intentioned-ly, but it would be in hopes that it would hurt less than if he went out there, gave it his all, and the redhead still dismissed him in favor of his best and oldest friend. On the other hand, she could keep quiet, for once in her young life, and give this last class her all, holding her breathe that his newfound lightness on his feet would in fact change Donna's mind, in a grand cinematically romantic way, before they discoed off into the Kenosha sunset.
She found neither hand terrifically appealing, and she hated that the worry over what to do had been eating away at her for a day and a half. She hadn't seen Hyde but for a brief moment in the basement, and an even briefer passing at school, still this dilemma, that honestly had little to do with her, was gnawing at her gut in the most annoying way.
She wondered since when did she care so much about Steven Hyde's feelings, or a love life that was not her own?
And she just wished the whole ordeal was finished and over-with, as quickly as possible.
Standing on Jackie's street, hands shoved deep inside his pockets, he looked up, irritated, at the large and elaborate house before him.
It really represented everything he hated. From the three stories of windows, all spotless and gleaming, to the meticulously kept shrubbery, which should have been showing the wear of fall but yet remained as obnoxiously green as on the first day of summer. It was pretentious and showy, wasteful and oversized, blatantly unnatural, and most importantly, it housed spoiled, rich people who cared only about themselves, and the most trivial and superficial things.
But somehow, he didn't mind it. He'd learned, albeit silently and reluctantly, that people can surprise you, and something about not judging a book by its cover, or some other crap like that. On the night of his first lesson, he'd walked to that door, tempted to bolt, dreading going inside a world he detested, even for a short moment.
Now, he was tempted to bolt again, but only because he feared going in there, and watching a girl he still swore he could barely stand, fall to pieces because of what he was about to tell her. Because he had to tell her.
Didn't he?
Few times in her life had Jackie felt more uncomfortable. Since she'd opened the door, finding a particularly ill-tempered Hyde on her doorstep, they'd exchanged maybe 15 words or less.
Most of which had a tone that could be best described as "prickly."
And none of which had been in any way pertaining to the rain cloud of rejection hanging over her pretty little head. She had at the last minute decided it was best to tell him; honesty was the best policy, after all. But every time she opened her mouth to speak, no sound would come out and her mouth would hang open until he looked at her so strangely, she'd clamp it shut again.
Maybe it was so hard to tell him because he appeared to be in such a foul mood anyway. He could hardly look at her, eyes grazing the walls and space in apparent avoidance, and when they did fall on her they looked unkind, almost angry. And for the very first time, she wished he'd put his glasses on.
But he didn't, and the iciness continued to disturb her as he moved her around, leading her roughly, his jaw set dangerously tight.
He dipped her low and then pulled her back to him harshly. She could feel his fingers scraping at her back through her thin shirt, pushing hard against her skin as she was held so close to his chest that she felt claustrophobic.
"Steven, you're hurting me."
Snapping his head to look down at her, his eyes grew wide than vacant.
He loosened his grip and backed away, mumbling a soft but insincere, "Sorry." Still painfully avoiding her eyes.
She pulled all the way out of his grasp, shaking her head as she stomped over to the record player.
All concern for his feelings temporarily forgotten, Jackie could hear the bitchiness ease into her voice. "What the hell is wrong with you tonight? This is for you, remember? So if you are going to be your typical asshole-jerk-self, and you aren't even going to care, then you should just go home and stop wasting my time."
Before he had time to understand why, his stance grew defensive and his voice became biting. "Not care? Jackie, do you think I'd have been here, every damn day, for the last two weeks, spending time with you, who I ha --"
Surprising even herself, her voice was much quieter, and colder, when she cut him off. "Steven Hyde, don't you dare finish that sentence. I've done the best I could, you aren't going to learn any more tonight, so let's do ourselves a favor and quit now before it gets ugly." He'd have thought it was strange that it looked as if dams were bursting at the edge of her eyes, if he'd have been calm enough to notice. "Please, get out of my house."
He smirked at her, "Gladly," before storming up the stairs… and away from her.
Waking up in a fog, Hyde pushed the thin and smoke-scented blanket from his body, and warily sat up on the sagging, old couch he sometimes called a bed. At his feet were an angry evening's worth of crushed, empty beer cans and a Grateful Dead ashtray, reminding him of exactly why he only felt half there.
Squinting his eyes and the widening them in an attempt to clear his vision, he stared patiently at his watch until he could begin to make out the numbers and hands.
Three in the afternoon. In 4 hours he'd be at the Forman's, stuffing into the Vista Cruiser with his three best friends, a redhead he wanted to focus all of his attention on, and a brunette who kept getting in the way.
Last night, alone and in a moment of drunken, drug-induced honesty, he'd asked himself, out loud, why he'd gotten so angry at her.
She'd been right, he was being a jerk. But he hadn't intended to direct it at her. He was angry at Kelso for cheating, and then for putting him in his current position. He was angry at himself for wasting so much of his time thinking about it, worrying about it. And then, without reason or explanation, he'd looked at her and felt suddenly angry at her, for being with someone who would cheat on her, for not seeing it coming, for not looking at him like she hated him anymore.
And not even in the emotional clarity only a haze of smoke and beer can create, did he have a clue. About any of it.
He pushed himself up, stumbling slightly as he made his way to the bathroom, cursing under his breath as he got ready, hating that he felt so horribly guilty.
"Here, Donna, let me do that." Jackie snapped, pushing not-so-gently on the shoulder of her friend, indicating she needed her to sit.
Twisting the long strand of hair she held in her hand, she took two bobby pins from between her lips and accomplished in three seconds what Donna had been trying to do for an hour.
Rummaging around in her jewelry box, she found a brooch, silver and jade, and carefully attached it with a few more pins to her friend's hair.
"Huh. Thanks. That looks great."
"Of course it does, Donna. You are going to look breathtaking tonight."
A jumble of nerves and excitement, Donna was so internally giddy about the upcoming evening, she didn't even notice that Jackie's statement was less of a compliment and more of a command. But that's exactly what it was. Donna was going to look amazing, Jackie demanded it. She was going to look so hot, and so sexy, that when she dramatically and obviously threw herself at Eric, it would be one more nail in the coffin of Steven Hyde. Jackie was so angry, it was almost worth toning down her own beauty to make Donna look even better.
Almost.
Jackie couldn't believe what an ungrateful ass he'd been. She also couldn't believe that she was surprised. And from the moment she'd thrown him out the day before, she had been fluctuating between indignant hurt and self-righteous anger.
To think she had wanted to spare him the night before. Wanted to protect him from rejection. Well, now she knew better. The friendship she thought they'd been forming was obviously a hoax. Now she was quite sure of that, and sure that he deserved whatever he got. And then some. And she really hoped, as gross as it would be, that Donna shoved her tongue down Eric's throat right in front of him.
"Oh, let's take some pictures! I'm ready, Steven get in closer. Let's all schmoosh together! Okay, big smiles…. Nice! And now, girls…look how pretty, smile…Nice! Alright, now boys….Oh so handsome!"
Kitty Forman, so excited she was bouncing more than usual, was snapping photograph after photograph of the gaggle of teenagers before her, and showed no signs of stopping
"Okay, now let's--"
Stepping forward, Eric cut in, his voice one of mock eagerness. "Hey, mom, why don't I take a picture of you?"
"No, no, no, no. Ok, you'll be late, by now!"
Sliding into the back of the Vista Cruiser, Hyde felt dread in the pit of his stomach, twisting him up tighter and tighter. Well, part of that could be the hangover, but still.
Donna had almost pushed her way into front seat, fighting for the space beside Eric. And Hyde was almost painfully aware of the shy but fervent glances the two had been stealing at each other. Suddenly he felt like he was starting the race once everyone else was on the last lap. They were sitting close, but carefully not touching, as if they expected fireworks and explosions for even the tiniest brush. On her other side Fez's shoulder was pressed against hers, touching so completely, yet neither one even noticing. He feared that had he been sitting there, that's how it'd be. It wouldn't make a difference to her whether they touched or not. He'd be just a friend, a part of the scenery.
He was surprised at how he was more saddened by that than disappointed or jealous.
And it didn't help matters any that Jackie was ignoring him in the most obvious way. Or at least it was obvious to him. Sneaking a glance over at her, her petite frame further dwarfed the tall, goofy awkwardness of her boyfriend, where she sat wedged tightly against the window, shoulders squared back and her chin defiantly forward, as she looked quietly out the window. She was quiet and she wouldn't so much as look at him. And after two weeks of talking to her, being the center of her attention, it was at the very least unsettling.
And as he knew she was going to, she looked beautiful. Her hair was half up and half down, all of it waving this way and that in a gorgeous mess of curls. Her dress was a bright red, glowing against her flawless skin.
Growling and huffing in frustration, at his thoughts, at his feelings, at her, at Eric's swampy moon doggy glances at Donna, who also looked nothing short of incredible, he shifted his eyes outside his own window wanting to not see or observe another damn thing until they got to Kenosha.
The breath from the six teenagers, in varying degrees of apprehensive, had fogged up the glass at her side. Having smeared a small space of it with her hand to see a little clearer, Jackie took her pointer finger and began doodling around the edges.
The November evening made the car window cool to her touch, little drops of condensation dampening her fingertip as she drew.
She drew a flower. Like the large scarlet bloom she had tucked so delicately into her hair. The petals were drapey and dramatic, and slightly smudgy due to her limited canvas. But she thought it was pretty, and it was the first thing since getting in the car with him that made her smile.
Until a large, oblivious hand swiped at it roughly, until it disappeared as he called out to the other occupants of the car, "Hey, guys look! I think that's a Kenoshan hooker!"
Her head spinning to face him, her voice was high with irritation. "Michael! You idiot!"
"What?" He looked at her, helpless and confused, his eyes so innocent and round. He really hadn't meant to upset her. For a moment, her glare darted to the figure beside him, his blue eyes watching, practically waiting for her to explode and overreact, to pick a fight and ruin her own night in the process. Her eyes narrowed at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction, and then softening her expression with care moved to fix her eyes back on to the still bewildered Kelso.
"Nothing, baby. I'm sorry."
If she'd have still been looking at Hyde, she'd have noticed him wince at her soft, forgiving tone and the brilliant smile she shone on the undeserving.