His Other Half

Chapter 18

Jordan kissed along my neck, nipping as he tugged me closer and tried to lay me back against the couch. This felt great. I needed to get off the phone.
"Hey I'm sort of busy right now!" I yelled into the phone, then music in the back blaring.
"Y/n?"
"Leo?"
Jordan's hand brushed in between my legs and I breathed out a small, "Oh god.."
"Are you okay?" Leo wondered, that dagger in my heart before twisted.
Jordan grabbed the phone from my ear and put it up to his own, "Who's this?" He winked at me, still slightly hovering over me.
My hands rested on his chest, fully ready to submit to him. I really would if Leo wasn't on the other end of the line.
"Friend huh? I haven't heard much about you."
"Jordan leave him alone." I reached for my phone but he pushed my arm back against the couch.
"Hey dude, she'll talk to you later. Don't worry, I'll take good care of her." I finally got my phone back, quickly holding it to my ear.
"Leo!" God he was going to kill me.
Why did I care so much?
The line was dead. I messed up. It was time to leave. Now. I squirmed out from underneath Jordan, grabbing my cigarettes (including the half smoked one) and headed for the door. I dialed Amanda's number and lit up the cig again, walking down the sidewalk.
I hated walking when I was tipsy like this, it was the worst. My legs always felt like jelly and everything was warped. The line beeped and I smiled.
"Amanda! Can you come pick me up."
But of course, Amanda wasn't on the other end, "Can't Jordan drive you home?"
I clenched my jaw for a second, I shouldn't be the one so upset, "Put Amanda on the phone." I didn't want to find out how much of an emotional mess I could be when I was drunk. Those final drinks hit me pretty damn hard.
"Not until you talk to me."
"Jesus Christ Leo.." I took a long puff, "What?! What do you want?"
"Are you smoking?"
"So fucking what if I am?! You've got two seconds to explain yourself."
I could hear him stammering through the phone, "I just need to talk to you."
"So fucking talk." I guess I was pretty impatient when I was drunk.
I hurriedly walked down the sidewalk. I needed to get home before three so my parents didn't get suspicious. Day drinking was a terrible idea, and even more terrible is that I had become pretty good at concealing it.
"No, I need..." he sighed, I knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, "I need to talk to you face to face."
"Not happening, give Amanda the phone."
"Where are you right now?"
He was not picking me up, not in a million years. His time being my chauffeur was over.
"Leo, I don't have time for this. I need a ride from her like now."
"Y/n, please."
My vans scuffed against the side walk as I skidded to a stop. Goddamn me and my soft side. Every time someone gave me that desperate 'please,' I always shattered. Especially for him.
"Uhm.." I looked around me, "Do you know where the Municipal Art Gallery is?"
Leo stuttered for a moment, laughing in disbelief, "Why- oh my god - you're in Hollywood?"
I sat at a small bench outside the front doors, "You asked. Are you coming or not?"
He sounded more like a disappointed father than anything, it was almost funny, "I fucking guess so. Give me like twenty minutes okay?"
"Okay..." I brought legs up to my chest, resting my chin on top of my knees.
"Leo?" I truly felt horrible. This was by far the worst thing I had done to him since we met. I could never repay him.
"What Y/n? I have to give Amanda her phone back." I knew he was upset, and he was certainly aloud to be.
I found myself hesitating like that evening in my room. Then I just wanted to say two simple words, and that had been too difficult for me. So now, I had to say it. I needed to get it out and stop getting ahead of myself.
"Y/n?"
I smiled, finally letting go of that pressure on my shoulders and just saying it.
"I love you."
Then he got quiet, a little too quiet. I held the phone away from my face for a moment, but he hadn't hung up. "You're drunk. Don't go anywhere." The line clicked and he was off the phone.
What? So what if I was drunk? It's not like I meant it any less. I nearly called him back and lectured him...but then I'd probably lose my ride. And him, again. Maybe he was too scared to say it back in front of Amanda. But still, I know he didn't care what she thought, so why didn't he just say it back? He was the first one to make a move. Calling me sweetheart, holding my hand, buying me food, I knew he liked me. At the time it scared me because of Grant, but being with Jordan only reminded me that I just needed to let go of him.
I shouldn't have pushed him away. Really. I was too in the heat of the moment, but that was no excuse. I wanted my friend back, but the only thing was, I know he didn't want me back. He made me the happiest I had been in a while, took me under his wing and even invited me into his home, and I spit in his face.
I had some self reflecting to do. I finished my cigarette and put it out in the little ash tray stand next to the bench and went into the gallery. This was a place to think, right? Just look at art and let your mind flow.
I waltzed around, holding my hands behind my back, fiddling with that damned green lighter and just observing. I studied the paintings like how his lively blue eyes studied me. Taking in every little detail and accepting it for what it was, not wishing it were different. He would love this place. I should take him here one day when I finally decided to get my license.
I caught that familiar blonde hair find a place next to me. He wore a gray t-shirt, some baggy jeans and a pair of brown converse, his cold chain tucked into his shirt. I melted into his touch as he hooked his arm around my waist. We looked at the painting together. It was a giant yellow and green splat of paint outlined with a shaky black marker.
"I could've done that." His voice was music to my ears.
"But you didn't." I remarked, resting my head against his chest.
He hummed, scooting me closer and looking down at me.
He was pale, his lips not as pink as I remember them. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken in more than before. He looked rough, but was still as pretty as the first day I met him.
"We can go." I patted his chest, untucking the small accessory.
"Okay." We stood for a moment, taking in one another.
I'm sure I wasn't looking too hot either. I was basically shit faced, my hair had fallen from its do some, but he still looked at me like I was the most precious thing in the world.