Chapter Six: Things I'll Never Say
Trista crossed her arms, remaining positioned onto her bed as she placed her chin against her wrist. She traced the gash that was made days ago, the thought of being snuggled up to Jak... him placing his arm around her waist. She jolted herself from the memory, goose bumps sending shivers down her spine. Yes, Trista wished to be next to him like that once more, even lock her lips against his. Her eyes darkened not of disgust but of what seemed like hatred. 'How could I wish that? That good for nothing...' she stopped herself, 'Is with someone else. Or so it seems as he told me,' she thought gazing out the window.
Jak suddenly felt more tired than ever, from being drunk and all the running and crying. He did his best to stay awake, drifting in and out of sleep, still holding onto Erol for dear life.
Erol continued to hold Jak, drifting off to sleep as well. He enjoyed the bitter air nip at his skin before drifting off to sleep.
Trista's eyes watered once more, tears of sadness trickled down her cheek. She tilted her head to rest against her forearm, on the right side of her head. She wished to see him again, to see him once more before she fell to immediate sleep.
Jak's head dropped to rest in Erol's lap as he finally gave in to sleep, his arms still holding Erol.
Erol woke up the next morning, which he wasn't surprised for he was waking up frequently last night and this morning. He yawned slightly he was about to awaken until he stopped, realizing Jak was sleeping on his lap.
Jak shifted slightly in Erol's lap. He could feel that his head was hot and his feet were cold, and that he wasn't himself. She shifted again, a tear rolling down his tanned features.
Erol noticed Jak's difference and quirked a brow. He brushed his hand against his head, frowning slightly to feel the abnormal heat from his forehead. He shook his shoulder once, "Jak," Erol muttered, wanting him to wake up
Jak groaned and rolled on his back, opening his eyes and staring straight into Erol's worried ones.
"Hrm..?" Jak murmured groggily, stifling a yawn.
"You don't seem to well," Erol informed, stretching slightly.
Trista quickly sat up, glancing at the clock before heading into the showers. Once out she dried herself off and dressed herself into a dark blue jeans, black knee high boots, a white shirt with a dark brown vest that only stopped beneath her breast also having short sleeves. Trista brushed her disheveled looking hair before walking outside, wishing their was someone she could consult with her relationship problem. 'Heck who cares,' she thought, 'it's over anyway,' at least that's what she kept telling herself.
Jak's lips parted slightly as he stared into Erol's eyes.
"Why should you care? I'm just another racer to you, so if I get sick and die, that's just it. No more Jak. Right?" Jak stared curiously and innocently into Erol's eyes.
Erol smirked, "You wish," he replied, still remaining where he is since Jak was still lying on his lap. He brushed his hand against Jak's cheek, a smile replacing his smirk.
Trista closed her eyes half way until a ringing sound awakened her. She glanced towards her communicator, answering it. "I have a package that I want you to deliver something to a certain someone," came the voice of a friend of hers. Trista sighed, "Yep, all I do it deliver," she muttered. Once getting to Ronan's house he handed her the box, "Be careful, it's fragile."
"Who is it for anyway?" she asked, crossing her arms while still holding the package.
"Erol demanded to have it once it was sent in, it's for his zoomer," he stated, arching a brow to see Trista tense. Ronan sighed before ushering her out, "I'm very busy, now go give it to him."
"Aww..." Jak cooed, sitting up and almost losing his balance. "I made wittle Erol smile!" Jak smiled, before toppling over onto his back, head back in Erol's lap. Then Jak laughed.
Erol rolled his eyes, keeping his mouth clamped shut to not return his laugh. He felt himself grow red, being babied and all. "Not funny," he retorted.
Trista glared narrowly at the door as she banged on it. "Are you crazy? No way am I going to give this package to that ass!" she shouted through the door. She clenched her fists until her knuckles grew pale and she rested her head against the cold steel door.
'Why me?' she thought, trudging towards the stadium. A bitter expression remained plastered against her face, glancing at the box in hand. Trista ceased herself from slamming the package right on the ground before her. "Ronan owes me big time," she muttered.
Jak frowned.
"What wrong with you? Does the big boy not like being babied?" Jak asked, again sitting up and this time leaning against the wall before falling over.
Erol began to laugh just as Jak fell over. "Of course not, but by you I could reconsider." he stated.
Trista with held her breath, feeling her stomach erupt as she entered the stadium. It didn't take time to search until she found Erol, laughing his head off. She felt her breathing grow rigid as she neared them, preparing herself to chuck the box at Erol to shut him up. Erol already spotted Trista coming their way, though she stopped an arm distance away.
"Ronan asked me to give this to you," she muttered, averting eye contact from the two.
"Yeah thanks," Erol retorted, sarcasm dripping in his voice as she threw the package at him and walked away.
Jak watched Trista leave, subconsciously mouthing 'I'm Sorry' to her. One look at Erol made him re-analyze what he had said and smiled, simple mindedly forgetting Trista for the moment.
"Wait...Did that translate into 'I love you gimmi a kiss', or was it just me?" Jak asked Erol.
Erol rolled his eyes, standing up. "Why? You want one?" he smirked at Jak. He picked up the box before stretching, "Well I have to get going, have to hand this to Keira to fix into my bike and I have a meeting with the Baron to get ready for." He informed, winking at Jak "I suppose I'll see you later," Erol replied, shoving his hands into his pockets while he kept the package underarm.
Jak pouted. He didn't want to be alone with an angry Trista.
"Yea..." Jak said.