Jennie's POV
I take a second to think about what I am doing. I left Rosé to go find Lisa, but I really need to think about what will happen next. Lisa will either say terrible things to me, curse at me, and make me leave, or she will admit that she has feelings for me and that all these games she has been playing are just her way of not being able to deal with and express her feelings in a normal way. If the first scenario happens, and I mostly expect it to, I will be in no worse a state than I am in now. But, if it's the second, am I ready to forgive her for all the terrible things she has said and done to me? If we both admit the way we feel about each other, will everything change? Will she change? Is she capable of caring for me the way I need her to, and, if so, am I capable of putting up with her mood swings?
The problem is, I can't answer any of these questions on my own, not a single one. I hate the way she clouds my thoughts and makes me feel unsure about myself. I hate not knowing what she will do or say.
I pull up to the damned fraternity house that I have spent way too much time in. I hate this house. I hate a lot of things right now, and my anger toward Lisa is almost to its boiling point. I park at the curb and rush up the steps and into the crowded house. I head straight for the old couch Lisa is usually perched on, but, not spotting her mop of hair, I duck behind a heavyset guy before Wendy or anyone else can spot me.
Rushing up the stairs to her room, I bang my fist against the door, annoyed that once again she has it locked.
"Lisa! It's me, open the door!" I yell desperately and continue to pound, but there's no answer. Where the hell is she? I don't want to call her to find out, even though that is obviously easier, but I'm angry and I feel like I need to stay angry so I can say what I mean—what I need to say— and not feel bad about it.
I call Jisoo to see if Lisa is at her father's, but she isn't. The only other place that I know to look is the bonfire, but I doubt she would still be there. Still, I don't have any other options right now.
So I drive back to the stadium and park my car, repeating the angry words I have saved for Lisa over and over to make sure I don't forget anything in case she actually is here. Approaching the field, I can see that almost everyone has left already and the fire is almost out. I walk around and squint in the dying light and stare at couples to see if they are Lisa and Emma, without luck.
Just as I decide to stop looking, I finally do see Lisa leaning against the fence by the goalpost. She is alone, and doesn't seem to notice me walking toward her as she takes a seat on the grass, wiping her mouth. When she removes her hand, it looks red. Is she bleeding?
Suddenly Lisa's head snaps up as if she can sense my presence, and, yes, the corner of her mouth is bleeding and the shadow of a bruise is already forming on her cheek.
"What the hell—" I say and kneel down in front of her. "What happened to you?" I ask.
She looks up at me and her eyes are so haunted, my anger dissolves like sugar on my tongue.
"Why do you care? Where's your date?" she growls.
I click my tongue gently and move her hand away from her mouth, examining her busted lip. She jerks away from me but I bite my tongue. "Tell me what happened," I demand.
She sighs and runs her hand over her hair. Her knuckles are busted and bloody. The cut on her index finger looks deep and very painful.
"Did you get in a fight?"
"What gave you that idea?" she snaps. "With who? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am fine, now leave me alone."
"I came here to find you," I tell her and stand up, wiping the dead grass off my jeans.
"Okay. And you found me, so go."
"You don't have to be such an asshole," I say. "I think you should go home and get cleaned up. You might need stitches on that knuckle."
Lisa doesn't respond but stands up and walks past me. I came here to yell at her for being such an idiot and tell her how I feel, and she's making it very hard—I knew she would.
"Where are you going?" I ask, following her like a lost puppy.
"Home. Well, I'm going to call Emma and see if she will come back and pick me up."
"She left you here?" I don't like her at all. "No. Well, technically, but I told her to."
"Let me take you," I say and grab her jacket. She shrugs me off, and I want to slap her. My anger is returning and I am more pissed-off than before. The tables have turned; our . . . whatever this is has shifted. I am usually the one running from her.
"Stop walking away from me!" I yell and she turns around, eyes blazing. "I said let me take you home!" I scream.
She almost smiles but frowns instead and sighs. "Fine. Where's your car?"
LISA'S SCENT IMMEDIATELY fills the car, only now there is a hint of metal mixed in; it's still my favorite smell in the entire world. I turn the heat on and rub my arms to warm up.
"Why did you come here?" she asks as I pull out of the parking lot.
"To find you." I try to remember everything I had planned to say, but my mind is blank and all I can think about is kissing her busted mouth.
"For what reason?" she asks quietly.
"To talk to you, we have so much to talk about." I feel like crying and laughing at the same time and I have no idea why.
"I thought you said we didn't have anything to talk about," she says and turns to look out the window with a coolness I suddenly find beyond irritating.
"Do you love me?" The words come out rushed and strangled. I had not planned on saying them.
Her head snaps to the side to look at me. "What?" Her tone is one of shock.
"Do you?" I repeat, worrying that my heart might pop right out of my chest.
She focuses forward. "You are not seriously asking me this while we are driving down the street."
"What does it matter where or when I am asking, just tell me," I practically beg.
"I . . . I don't know . . . No, I don't." She looks around, almost like she needs to escape. "And you can't just ask someone if they love you when they are trapped in a car with you—what the hell is wrong with you?" she says loudly.
Ouch. "Okay," is all I can manage to say. "Why do you even want to know?"
"It doesn't matter." I'm confused now, so confused, and my plan to talk out our problems has crashed and burned in front of me, along with any dignity I still held.
"Tell me why you asked me that, now," she demands. "Don't tell me what to do!" I shout back.
I pull up to her house and she looks out at the crowded lawn. "Take me to my dad's," she says.
"What? I am not a damn taxi."
"Just take me there, I will get my car in the morning."
If her car is here, why doesn't she just drive herself? I don't want our conversation to end yet, though, so I roll my eyes, and head off toward her father's house.
"I thought you hated it there," I say.
"I do. But I don't feel like being around a lot of people right now," she says quietly. Then, louder, she goes on: "Are you going to tell me why you asked that? Does this have something to do with Rosé? Did she say something to you?"
She seems really nervous. Why does she always ask if Rosé said something to me?
"No . . . It has nothing to do with Rosé. I just wanted to know." It doesn't really have to do with Rosé; it has to do with the fact that I love her and thought for a second, she might love me, too. The longer I am around her, the more ridiculous that possibility seems.
"Where did you and Rosé go when you left the bonfire?" she asks as I pull into her father's driveway.
"Back to her apartment," I say.
Lisa's body tenses and her bloody fists clench, tearing the skin on her knuckles further. "Did you sleep with her?" she asks and my mouth falls open.
"What? Why the hell would you assume that? You should know me better than that by now! And who do you think you are to even ask such a personal question? You made it clear that you don't care about me so, what if I did?" I shout.
"So you didn't?" she asks again, her eyes like stone.
"God, Lisa! No! She kissed me, but I wouldn't have sex with someone I barely know!"
She leans over and turns my car off, clenching her bloody hand over the keys and pulling them out of the ignition.
"You kissed her back?" Her eyes are hooded as she seems to look straight past me.
"Yeah . . . well, I don't know, I think I did." I don't remember anything except Lisa's face in my mind.
"How do you not know? Have you been drinking?" Her voice is louder now.
"No, I just . . ."
"You what!" she shouts and turns her body to face me. I can't read the energy between us, and for a moment I sit there, trying to get a handle on it.
"I-I just kept thinking of you!" I finally admit.
Her stone features soften tremendously and she brings her eyes to mine. "Let's go inside," she says and opens the passenger door.