19. Just A Detour.

"…and now he's saying he wants to move to Chicago."

"What?" Beck paused the video game and looked at her in horror. She rolled her eyes.

"It doesn't matter. Un-pause it."

"Why do you keep saying that things don't matter?"

"Because they don't. You know what does matter? The fact that I'm beating you and I want to continue to do so. Un-pause the game!"

Reluctantly, Beck leaned back into his previous position on the couch and let the game continue. Jade beat him officially within ten seconds of resuming.

"Ha!" Jade snickered triumphantly. "I win."

Beck didn't say anything. He seemed to be lost in thought, watching the Player 1 wins announcement flashing on the screen. Jade threw a balled-up paper napkin leftover from her tamale at him. It bounced off his head, making him glance at her. He chuckled, but his eyes were a little sad.

"What's your problem?" she asked, pretending not to be interested. Beck shook his head — he wasn't going to say.

"You want some coffee?" he asked. "What am I saying, of course you want coffee."

He turned his back on her, fiddling with the coffee machine that took up nearly all of the limited space of the RV's tiny kitchenette. Jade tugged at the fraying drawstring of her hoodie. Of course she'd initially wanted to resist coming to the RV. It was the first time she'd been back, barring a late-night mad dash to grab everything she could confirm she owned. (He was still playing poker while she was breaking down his door.) A few hours ago, with a tamale in a styrofoam container clutched in her hands, she'd followed him in to the familiar space. Pictures had been taken down, and a few new tchotchkes were scattered here and there, but all in all it looked the same as it always did. Jade wasn't sure how to feel about this constancy (and she really wasn't sure that acquaintances were supposed to go to each other's places at three in the morning), but she ignored all those apprehensions for the sake of the coffee Beck was now brewing.

A few minutes of awkward silence later, he was handing her a scalding mug.

"Two sugars," he confirmed with a wistful smile. She nodding her thanks, burning her tongue with the drink just so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Do you…wanna play another round?"

She shrugged, running her thumb along the handle of the cup.

"A movie then. The Scissoring?"

She smiled at him almost sadly.

"Only if you want," she responded, looking back to the coffee.

"I do want," Beck decided, jumping up to search for his copy of the DVD. Jade slurped her coffee slowly (her tongue was tingling a little from that first unwise sip) as the familiar opening symphony began.

"I love this music," she murmured, more to herself than Beck.

"You told me once it narrates most of your dreams," he said with a chuckle. "See? I do listen."

He meant it as a joke. He meant for a lighthearted chuckle between two acquaintance-friends. Jade knew he did. She knew it was a joke. Maybe it was due to the nitpicking from her father over the last few weeks, or Sikowitz's increasing insensitivity, or simply the fact that she'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours — whatever the reason, it rubbed her the wrong way.

"Oh, so that's what this was about?!" Jade shouted, slamming her mug onto the table. Hot coffee splashed out and onto Beck's bare feet. "You just wanted to prove to me that the breakup wasn't your fault?!"

"I what?"

"I said to you that day — I said that you never listen to me! That day in the closet with Cat when she had all those spoons."

"I remember," he said quietly.

"And now you're trying to prove that you do listen. I heard what you said to Cat — that you're trying to make your promises worth something. You're trying to appease me so I won't badmouth you to any potential girlfriends!"

"That's not at all wha—"

"Whatever," Jade cut him off. A girl was screaming as a pair of scissors were brandished in front of her throat. "Let's just watch the movie."

"Okay," he said.

Jade kept her gaze firmly on the TV screen.

"You know, this was actually one of those times where you didn't have to jump to the worst possible conclusion. I meant what I said to Cat," Beck told her. She could feel his eyes on her.

"Whatever."

She didn't remember falling asleep, but obviously she did because she was waking up. The Scissoring DVD menu music had been playing on repeat, which basically constituted a lullaby for Jade West. Sitting up on the small couch, she rubbed at the crick in her neck and stretched out her legs, stopping dead when her toes hit something warm. Jade retracted her legs until she was curled into a ball pressed against the arm of the couch. Beck stirred from his position sprawled on the other end of the sofa, his foot dangerously nearing the cold remainder of Jade's coffee from last night (or was it that morning?).

"Hi," Beck whispered hoarsely as he opened his eyes.

"Um… Hi."

"What time is it?"

"No clue."

Jade stayed curled on the couch as Beck groggily reached for his phone. It struck her how uncomfortable she was in the place that used to represent contentment at its finest. Or maybe she was uncomfortable because she actually felt comfortable, but she knew she wasn't supposed to. Or maybe she actually wasn't comfortable, but she expected herself to be comfortable, and that was discomfiting.

It was too early for psychoanalysis.

"Alright. It's almost ten. Do you want breakfast?"

"I want coffee."

"Do you want some breakfast with your coffee?" he laughed.

"I guess," Jade kept her arms firmly wrapped around her knees.

"Okay. How about that waffle place? The one that we found when you finished your play."

"Which play?"

"Clowns Don't Bounce, I thought. Yeah, 'cause I think I left for Canada, like, that night."

"I want pancakes. You said last night we could get pancakes."

"I think they serve pancakes there…."

"Really? That's stupid."

"It is, isn't it?"

They both chuckled slightly, which seemed to ease the mounting tension a little bit. Or not.

"So…do you want the bathroom first or…?" Beck asked awkwardly.

"Um…no, you go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I've got a mirror in my bag, I'll be fine."

"Oh. Um. Okay. I think I'm going to take a shower…because, you know, I didn't last night…since I was initiating my life of crime."

"Right. Apology crimes."

"It was an okay apology though, right?" Beck asked. With his bed-head and nervous eyes, he looked like Beck Oliver Twist as he eagerly awaited her response.

"It'll do," Jade replied, unable to help the little smile on her face. As soon as he was out of sight though, she remembered that she was supposed to be mad. For someone with such a talent for loathing, it shouldn't have been so difficult for her to hate him.

"So whaddya want to do today? We could go egg Sikowitz's house."

Jade perked up at that, looking at Beck hopefully across the table in the restaurant in which they were the youngest patrons (by a good forty years).

"I was kidding," Beck said before she could get any ideas.

"Aw," Jade started tearing up the wrappers from the two sugars she'd put in her coffee with a pout.

"Maybe there's something wrong with him. Sikowitz, I mean."

"Maybe?"

"I mean, more wrong-er than usual."

"More wrong-er."

"You know what I mean," Beck said, trying to look exasperated but grinning instead. "Remember when he got all weird after Tori made us see that play? Maybe something like that happened."

"All I remember is Vega trying to give him a rabbit and us text-fighting…."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence between them.

"What was that about?" Beck and Jade asked each other at the same time before dissolving into a communal fit of laughter.

"I can't believe we don't remember what that fight was about," Beck chuckled. "It's like a frickin' Shakespeare feud."

"You are not comparing us to Romeo and Juliet."

"No! No, I'm comparing us to…Tybalt and Mercutio."

"And presumably I'm Tybalt since he kills Mercutio."

"Presumably," Beck agreed, trying to contain his grin. "But then Romeo kills Tybalt so we're even — we both get murdered."

"Maybe sooner than you think," Jade narrowed her eyes sinisterly.

"Do you think they serve real maple syrup here?" Beck turned his gaze to the laminated menu in front of him in mock nervousness.

"Probably not," Jade responded, confirming every Canadian's worst nightmare. "You'll have to run home and raid your secret stash."

"No one's supposed to know about that!" he whispered frantically. She just winked, then wished she hadn't.

It's so hard to let you in,

Thinking you might slam the brakes again.

A little something for your Monday. I don't think Canadians actually keep a secret stash of maple syrup, but they probably do. I'm from New England and I do. Aunt Jemima's is an abomination. Also, yes, you are correct. I did use an old Hilary Duff song for the quote/chapter title. I'm on a nostalgic pop music kick apparently. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!