— JENNIE
..
If I could meet anyone from a past time, it would probably be Vincent Van Gogh, and it's not only because he was a brilliant artist. It's more because, in a way, I'm able to relate to his mental illness—he was known to have suffered "hallucinations of sight and hearing." If he were living in this era, his symptoms would be diagnosed as schizophrenia. He also suffered from depression. He used painting as a way to cope, or I guess as a way to escape.
As I lie here on the dock by the lake house, with my elbows bent and hands beneath my head, I admire the night's canvas. The sky reminds me of one of Van Gogh's most famous paintings, The Starry Night. I'm reminded of this painting because everything about tonight is perfect: the cool breeze, the breathable air, the way the moon casts over the trees and gleams down on the lake. If Van Gogh were here, would he have attempted perfecting The Starry Night?
When I was in college, I minored in art. One of the things I learned about Van Gogh is that he admitted himself into an asylum, but not for fear of others, more for fear of himself. I became obsessed with researching and learning about him, about his life, and his art. I read hundreds of articles about him, and still it wasn't enough. I wished I were able to have been in his head, to have spoken to him in person. He was brilliant: a talented artist, yet he suffered from a disease that slowly crippled his mind.
Van Gogh died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to his chest. When his brother Theo came to his side after hearing of the incident, Van Gogh's last words to him before his death were "the sadness will last forever."
"The sadness will last forever."
When I read his dying words, I cried, not out of sympathy, but because I understood what those words meant. It's something that cannot be controlled or escaped from. Depression is evil. Before you know it, it takes over and there's no escaping it. Van Gogh died a sad and broken man, yet he left a legacy with his paintings that will last forever. Still, I want to know—when he painted, when he admired the sky at night to paint it from memory during the day, was he troubled in those moments? Because right now, this beautiful scenery is doing wonders for my state of mind. Right now, I am peaceful, content; there's no possible way I could be sad. How will I feel when I remember this moment tomorrow in the daylight?
Footsteps make me alert, but I don't move. I already know who's coming toward me. I texted Lisa about an hour ago, letting her know I'd be on the dock, waiting for her. She was working overtime on the guesthouse when Rosé and I drove up to the lake earlier today.
The past couple of weeks, things have been really good between Lisa and me. We're slowly developing into something more, which scares the hell out of me. Ever since the ice cream get-together and watching comedy at her place the next day, we've been inseparable. After her shift, we usually go out somewhere, whether it's driving around, walking through the park, or just to her apartment. We've been spending all our free time with one another.
"Always by yourself, Jersey. I think you like being all alone," Lisa says, almost whispering. It's so quiet it seems like more of a statement for herself than for me to hear.
"Have you not learned anything in the past couple of weeks?" Still in the same position, I tear my stare away from what could be a Van Gogh masterpiece to a uniquely Lisa work of art. A smirk spreads across her gorgeously features. She lifts her hand to frame her chin, her thumb rubbing along the skin. I've come to recognize this pose as her version of The Thinker.
"Well, we have been spending a lot of time together, so I guess you're not too much of a loner." she settles to lie down beside me, and puts her hands behind her head as well. "What are we looking at?" she asks, looking up.
I tilt my head to look up as well. "I'm admiring a Van Gogh. The Starry Night."
She chuckles. "Oh, wait. You're talking about that painter dude who went crazy, right?"
"Not crazy. He suffered from a mental illness, Lisa."
"Um, if memory serves me correctly, he cut off his own ear. I'm pretty sure that's some form of crazy."
"Yes. Yes, he did cut off his own ear," I admit, but I don't give in on the crazy.
"And didn't he, like, shoot himself? That's another form of crazy."
"All right. Enough about Van Gogh. How was your day?" I ask, changing the topic. Obviously, this "crazy" talk and how she perceives a mental illness will only add fuel to a very small fire building within me, and I don't want this night to go wrong. Not tonight, not with a view like this.
"Oh, you know. Same shit, different day," she says nonchalantly.
"Ah."
"Well, I was mostly thinking about you," she confesses quietly.
"Me?" Tilting my head, I meet her gaze.
"Yeah." She smirks, charmingly so. "I just thought about how you'll be surrounded by so many people here today. It's a pretty big crowd tonight."
Right. The party, which is happening behind me and which I've managed to tune out for the past few hours. "It's okay. That's why I'm out here on the dock, away from everyone."
"I know. But still, it'd be nice if you could interact with the crowd, maybe try to work on that shyness of yours."
I look away. "It's not shyness."
"Then what is it?" I don't answer, so she goes on, "Yet another thing you don't want to talk about. I get it, Jersey." Her nickname for me is quite annoying, but I'm beginning to get used to it. "Fine. If you won't talk, then we're going to play." She stands up, gripping my arm and lifting me in the process.
"Play? W-what are you talking about?" I stand up straight, looking up at her.
"We're going to play beer pong."
I widen my eyes reflexively. "I don't drink, remember?"
"Yes, that's why I'll be doing the drinking." She thumbs her chest, smiling widely at me.
I cross my arms, drop my hip, and smack my lips. "Sorry. I've never played before. Guess you're out of luck."
Lisa reaches down, places both her hands on my shoulders, and smiles. "You're gonna learn today." She impersonates Kevin Hart. Lisa takes my laugh as an okay, twists my body to face the lake house, and leads me toward the party.
..
The rules to beer pong—well, I think they may be made-up by the guys—are that there are two teams of two people each with six Solo cups on each end of a rectangular table. Each cup is filled halfway with beer. Each player gets one Ping-Pong ball and one throw per round. The object is to get your ball into one of the opposing team's cups. If the other team shoots the ball into one of your cups, you have to chug that drink and vice versa. The first team to sink their ball into all the opposing team's cups wins. The team that loses has to drink the winning team's remaining filled cups. But there's a catch. The losing team has to take three shots of vodka as well.
This is what I call alcohol poisoning just waiting to happen.
"All right," Mingyu announces from the other end of the table. "Since Jennie doesn't drink, we'll shift the rules slightly. Jennie and Lisa are on the same team, but Lisa does all the drinking. Jennie tosses the ball. Same with Blair and me."
Lisa and I are against Blair Mega Bitch and Mingyu. I'm hoping to do an amazing job because I want to beat Blair point-blank. Also, I really don't want Lisa drinking all that alcohol by herself.
"Does everyone get the rules?" Mingyu yells over the loud music. Lisa and I nod. So does Blair. "All right, Blair, you're first. Do me proud, babe."
My teeth find my inner cheek and chew as I take in every movement Blair makes. She positions her body as if she's about to perform a squat. She puts her game face on—serious. You would think she's in a real championship match. She lifts her hand, fingers gripping the tiny orange ball, and flexes her wrist back and forth to loosen it up.
Lisa's hand finds its way to my waist, her lips lightly brushing the curve of my ear. "Don't be nervous. You'll do great," she whispers encouragingly.
By this point, our table on the deck is surrounded by partiers. And if Lisa's hand didn't feel so damn right against my waist, I would've brushed it off. Instead I leave it there. Blair Mega Bitch finally tosses the ball, and I flinch as it taps the edge of one of our cups then bounces off. I smile in relief.
"It's okay, babe. That was just a warm-up," Mingyu encourages her.
I go next and miss too. Blair and I go back and forth two more rounds, missing, until she finally makes the first shot. Lisa grabs the cup and, with the ball still in it, chugs the beer down. She smiles at me, flashes a wink, and nods her head before saying, "It's all right. I've played this dozens of times. It doesn't faze me." But it fazes me.
I take extra measures to focus and it works. I make the next shot. I turn to face Lisa, jumping up and down as I do. Her wide grin and gleaming eyes show her affection for me.
I bite my lip, face Blair's scowl, and put on my poker face.
Game on.
..
"All right…this is good, we still have a shot. You got this, Jersey," Lisa slurs. I raise my brow, completely and utterly sure that we're going to lose. We lost the first round, which made the guys competitive, so they decided on best out of three. That's a lot of drinking on their part. We won one round and Mingyu and Blair won the other. This is now the third round and both Lisa and Mingyu are completely trashed. The opposing team definitely has better odds. They only have one cup left to win and I have three.
I toss the ball and make it in a cup. Mingyu drinks. Blair takes her turn, tossing and missing. I go again and make the second in. The crowd around us—all highly intoxicated as well—whistles and cheers loudly. Mingyu chugs. This is our last chance. One cup left for each of us. I want to win because there's no way Lisa can have another drink. I'm afraid she'll pass out. Several cups of beers and three shots is no good, even for a heavy drinker.
Nervously, and with complete focus, I aim and shoot. Dammit. I miss. Blair takes her turn, shooting and landing it. While everyone, including Blair and Mingyu, shouts and screams—a bit overly dramatic if you ask me—all I can do is look at Lisa, who has the largest grin smacked across her handsome face. She sloppily lifts her right hand up to give me a high five. "We didn't win," I say.
"So?" She shrugs. "You played and that, my Jersey Girl, is a celebration in and of itself."
She just called me her Jersey Girl, emphasizing the "my." I can't help but smile. Mingyu, now beside us, places their last cup next to our last cup along with three shot glasses filled with vodka. Lisa's hooded eyes graze over the shot glasses and she cringes. I'm not sure why, but something in me just can't do it. I just can't let her. I quickly grab both red Solo cups and chug down one of the beers.
More whistles and cheering.
Beer is disgusting. I can't fathom why people actually drink this for enjoyment.
I chug the second without another thought, gagging a bit at the end.
"W-what are you doing, Jersey?" Lisa stumbles forward.
A hand tugs at my arm. "Yeah. What the hell are you doing, Jennie?" Rosé's beside me now, looking at me like I have five heads.
I shrug her off, smirk, and grip two of the three shot glasses. Saluting Lisa, I tell myself this is for her. I bring the glass to my lips, tilt my head and gulp down the burning liquid. Lisa laughs at my face, which I'm sure is twisted in disgust. "Jennie…you don't have to drink it," Rosé says.
"I'm blending in, just like everyone else," I say, taking the second shot, which I almost spit back out. I feel a burning in the pit of my stomach and wonder again why people drink this for fun.
Wetting my lips and already feeling sick to my stomach, I reach for the third shot glass, but a hand stops me. I look up at Lisa, who slowly shakes her head. She grabs it for herself instead and gulps it down. I hear Rosé mumble something under her breath as she stomps off. I'll deal with her in the morning. Right now, I can't keep my eyes off of Lisa and the look she's giving me.
There's no humor. Just Lisa and her stormy blue eyes, scorching deep within me, trying to figure something out. She slowly steps forward. I tilt my head back to look up at her as her eyes scroll down over my face. What is this look, Lisa? She rests her hands on my waist and gently pulls me in, my body against hers. "Why did you do that?" she murmurs, low enough so only I can hear.
"Because believe it or not, I care enough that I don't want you to have alcohol poisoning," I try to joke. But I fail miserably, too consumed with how close Lisa is and how her hands curve comfortably along my hips.
"You care about me?" She's still giving me that unknown look.
Something is stuck in my throat and I try to swallow it back. "Um, I care enough about the alcohol poisoning thingy." Thingy?
She leans down, her face centimeters from mine. "I care about you too," she tells me. And I don't know if it's the way she's looking at me or the words she's saying to me or the fact that everyone else seems to have disappeared or a combination of all of those things, but I can't help the way my heart soars at her declaration.
"Y-you do?" I stumble over the two words.
"I do."
Don't kiss me. Please do not kiss me. She leans in closer. My chest burns, and I'm not sure if it's the aftershock of the vodka or my nerves causing it.
She smells like liquor and beer and Lisa.
Please kiss me.
And she does. Three small pecks, but not where I expected. The first one lands on the tip of my nose—a small, simple peck. I shut my eyes at the contact. The second one presses along my forehead. It leaves a warm and tingly feeling and my chest expands. The third tickles my chin, lingering a little longer than the rest.
It wasn't what I expected—and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for a kiss similar to the first one on my front porch—but these three small kisses mean so much more.
They're beautiful and gentle and simply Lisa. They outshine the first kiss on any given day.
..
"Jennie?"
"Yes?" I yawn, my head dizzy from the liquor. I'm snuggled against Lisa's chest. It's a little past three in the morning. Every one of the partiers has left except for the ones who crashed because they were too drunk. We're lying beside one another on the large, comfy couch. Her fingers are gently running through my hair, and it feels so good.
I like this.
I like cuddling with Lisa. I like lying on Lisa's chest. I like the fact that our legs are tangled with one another's and it feels completely comfortable.
She breathes out a heavy sigh. The smell of beer and vodka invades the thin space between us, but I don't mind it. "I want us to be more," she whispers.
More?
Oh no, Lisa. Just…no. I knew it. I was afraid of this. As much as I'd love to be able to give her what she wants, I can't. My thoughts roil with the idea. I'm too much more. She has no idea how much more I am—and not in a good way. She won't be able to handle me, my issues, my illness, and especially how damaged I am. I'm just too much.
And more is the last thing she needs.
Finally tilting my head up, I look at her. Her eyes are shut, her lips slightly parted. Just like that, she's fast asleep.
..
For the past hour this morning, I've scrolled through my phone, pondering whether I should or shouldn't text him. Sehun has sent me a few messages since the day he landed on my doorstep unannounced and Lisa was there to save the day. After each text was met with no response, he must have finally gotten the hint because he simply stopped messaging me altogether. The last text I received from him was over a week ago, asking if I wanted to go out for a friendly coffee date.
When Lisa said she wanted more from me last night, it scared the hell out of me. Maybe she was just drunk and it was the liquor speaking, but that's a chance I can't take. I'm not sure if going out with Sehun is the best option. I used Lisa to get rid of Sehun. Now I might use Sehun to push Lisa away. The thing is I don't want to push Lisa away; I want us to keep what we have. It's simple and perfect. But the more she wants will only complicate things. Letting out a frustrated breath, I type a text, send it off, and then head downstairs where the others are.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Ms. Drunkster herself," JK jokes. He's seated by the kitchen table with Rosé on his lap as usual.
I moan, brushing him off as I take the only empty seat, which is beside Lisa. She smiles and pushes a full glass of water and a bottle of aspirin toward me. I open the cap of the bottle and pop two pills, gulping them down with the water. Everyone is minding their own business, chatting away. Lisa leans in, quietly asking, "What happened to you this morning? I woke up and you were gone."
"I had to use the restroom, and I felt so sick I just went to bed upstairs. I didn't want to chance it if I had to vomit. Sorry." I really needed to just get away. To think. Alone. Without being in her arms.
She reaches up and brushes my bangs aside in understanding.
"Would the two of you just hook up already?" We both turn our heads and face Blair Mega Bitch. She rolls her eyes. "Don't give me that look. We all think the two of you should just do it already," she says, tossing both arms in the air in frustration.
"We're just friends," I say. My phone buzzes. I open the text that came in and read it.
"Well, with friends like the two of you, who needs fuck buddies, right?" she goes on.
"Jealous?" Lisa retorts.
Blair's eyes spread wide, then she laughs. "Of the two of you? Hell no. It's just disgusting. The tiny whispers, giggles, cuddling, but no kissing or sex? Pfft. The entire scene makes me have blue balls and I don't even have balls."
Lisa opens her mouth to retort, but I cut her off by saying, "Well, like I said, Lisa and I are just good friends. In fact I have a date on Tuesday."
"With who?" Lisa whips her head around, eyes glaring and lips slightly parted.
Shit. Why do I suddenly feel nervous? Most of all, why do I feel guilty? "Sehun." I say it so low, I don't think she hears me, but her twisted features tell me otherwise.
"Sehun?"
I look around at everyone. I guess I'm secretly hoping for help, but everyone turns their head and pretends not to be listening—except for Blair Mega Bitch, that is. The smirk on her face just proves she's enjoying all of this. I'd like nothing more than to smack it off her face.
"Yeah. We're going out on Tuesday for a late coffee date. Is that a problem?" I face Lisa, arching a brow.
"Nope. Not at all," she says smoothly. I study her. Interestingly enough, she seems to be okay with it.
..
— LISA
Is she fucking kidding me?
Sehun?
The same dude that stopped by her place when she forced me to kiss her so she could get rid of him?
Do I have a problem with it?
Nope. Not at all.
I'm completely fucking cool about it.
She can go out with Sehun.
I couldn't care less.
I couldn't give two fucks.
Sehun?
Fuck Sehun and Tuesdays and shitty fucking coffee dates.
..
— JENNIE
It's Tuesday, six in the evening. Sehun took me to a quiet coffee shop nearby my house. Over the past hour he's been going on and on about starting grad school in the fall, and how his parents are proud of all his achievements, and how he graduated top of his class, and how he wants to be involved with politics just like his father and hopes to one day be president of the United States, but before he can move up, he has to start from the bottom, so his first goal is to be a senator within six years and blah, blah, blah.
None of this interests me.
Physically, I'm here with him as I nod and smile. Emotionally, my head is wrapped up in Lisa. She sent me a few texts last night. They were simple, as simple as Lisa could be.
LISA: Excited about your coffee "date?"
ME: "Date?" Yeah, I guess I am.
LISA: Yeah, "date." I mean who takes a girl out for coffee as a date?
ME: Believe it or not, it's very common.
LISA: It's stupid.
ME: What would you do for a first date?
LISA: Take her out to a diner and then back to my house to watch a comedy
ME: Sounds like a nice date. Lucky girl.
And then I regretted texting it because it was flirty and I didn't want to give her the wrong impression. So I changed the subject to something completely random, talking about the weather and how it's going to be extremely hot in the coming week. She must have gotten the hint because she played along.
"Are you okay?" Sehun prods.
"Huh? Yes. Well, not really. I have a headache."
"Would you like me to take you home?"
I know this is so bad in so many ways, but I ask anyway. "Do you mind driving me to a friend's house in Philly?"
"No, not at all."
I smile.
..
— LISA
I'm enjoying my second beer, playing a video game, and trying to focus on anything other than picking up my phone to bug Jersey Girl. I know she's on her "date," so I'll just wait. But waiting is a bitch. I'm just about to break my own rule when the doorbell rings. I groan. Who the hell could that be? I'm not in the mood for visitors. Reluctantly, I stand from the couch and make my way toward the door, opening it while I take a sip of my beer. My eyes meet with Jersey Girl's brown gems and I act natural. I don't want her to see how much her being here actually excites me.
Jersey's eyes trail down my shirtless body and the PJs hanging low from my waist. Then she looks back up and smiles at me. "Can I come in?"
I step aside, still holding the door open for her, and close it after she steps in. "How'd you get here?" I ask, following behind her as she makes her way into my kitchen.
"Sehun."
Sehun. I'm happy her back is facing me so she can't see the way my expression sours at the mention of his name. "You asked your date to drop you off at gp girl's place?" That makes me smile.
"Nope. I told him it's a friend's place. I didn't stress it was a gp girl's place," she says, opening my refrigerator. "I'm so hungry."
Jersey looks good. She's wearing tight jeans—which accentuate her ass perfectly—and a loose yellow blouse that brings out the color of her eyes. Her hair is done in long waves that fall just past the middle of her back. I love when she wears her hair like that. It looks good on her. She's bent over, her head in the fridge, and I can't help but picture all of the things I want to do to her. In the kitchen. On the couch. In my bed. Then something flares in my stomach as an earlier thought prods my mind. She got dressed for a guy. She got dressed for a guy and it pisses me off. I lean back onto the counter, crossing my legs and trying to compose myself.
"What the hell, Lisa? You have nothing in your kitchen except for old Chinese food and a bag of large marshmallows." She shuts the fridge, turns around, and faces me with a pout.
She's so damn cute. "Don't downplay marshmallows." I say, uncrossing my arms and legs. I open the fridge and grab the bag of marshmallows.
Jersey lifts herself up onto the counter and sits beside the stove, facing me. She watches as I grab a fork and plate and turn on the gas stove. I stab a marshmallow onto the fork and roast it over the fire.
"You're roasting a marshmallow on your stove with a silver fork?" she asks.
"Yep."
She shakes her head. "I'm hungry for real food, Lisa."
"Sehun should have fed you. I'm sure you didn't have any coffee either, since you don't drink caffeine."
She stares at me for a few seconds before responding, "I had a water."
I shake my head. Douchebag didn't even know that much about her. "I'll feed you after you try this."
"Okay." She nods.
She watches the white puff light up in flames. I slowly rotate the fork until the marshmallow turns charcoal, then I blow it out. I let it cool down before bringing it up to her mouth. She looks down at it first, hesitant. Then she wraps her lips around the fluff and closes them over the fork, taking the gooey sweetness into her mouth. And fuck is that sexy. I wish it were something else her lips were wrapped around.
"Mmm. Delish," she says.
"Told ya, Jersey Girl. Don't knock it 'til you try it."
"Food. Please," she demands.
"All right, all right. I'm gonna go throw on some clothes."
"Why? I don't mind if you go like that," she jokes.
I smile. "I bet you don't. Wanna go to the diner?"
She nods, her gaze lingering over my chest.
I shake my head, laughing as I head to my room.
As much as I try to repair my damaged soul, it's useless.
How can you fix me, when I can't even fix myself?
..
..
..
