bad expectations | jfg

44

People wanted Jack's POV for the chapter prior to this so, here. Warning: his thoughts are all over the place so you might look at some parts and be like "lmao tf."

Jack's POV

As I knock on the door, I immediately regret it. Damn it. Maybe I can still run away, or jump out the hall window, or-

"I couldn't get it-" The vague voice I haven't heard in so long makes my skin light on fire. The door flies open and my eyes meet a pair of shaky ones, she's instantly confused. Hell, I am too.

Jesus Christ. I haven't seen her in so long, she looks so different. Her wavy hair hangs right below the shoulder that has the flannel loosely dropped down. My flannel. God.

I'm very aware that she's not looking at me with admiration like I am to her, she's really confused, and doesn't know why I'm standing here. Right, maybe I should talk.

"Hey, you."

My voice literally sounds like a depressed five year old and I cough to try and fix it. My throat is dry. She's literally just standing there and she's making me sweat. Hey, you? How fucking stupid.

"What, um." Her voice cracks before she dismisses our eye contact. One side of my mouth flinches upward at her nervousness but then quickly goes back to its natural state.

She crosses her arms over her chest and begins to stare at the floor awkwardly, "what are you doing here?" She asks, trying to be put and polite.

"Came by to get my flannel." I tell her. I mentally pat myself of the back for coming off so aloof while I'm internally screaming my fucking head off.

Her eyebrows immediately get together and I begin to realize how awkward this must be for her. I keep swallowing over and over again to try and regain the stupid saliva that she has taken from me but I can't, she's too breathtaking.

"This is Jack's..." She trails off and I take this time to admire her flawlessness, she's still kind of wearing my flannel and I don't care if she didn't realize it but it feels amazing to have her wearing something of mine. Her cheeks turn red, making her eyes trail along the wooden floor, she's embarrassed.

"Sorry. I didn't, know, sorry." She quickly rambles and begins to shrug the rest of it off. I try really hard to fight my smile, I don't want her to feel any more discomforted and awkward but I'm just so giddy because she's standing right in front of me.

When I reach my hand out to grab it from hers, I feel the need to grab ahold of her. Jesus Christ, I just want to feel her skin, that's it. I also want to talk to her. God, I want to talk to her.

"It's okay." I push quietly, not taking my eyes from her. She's barely even gazing at me while I'm practically drooling. I need to make long eye contact with her before I slam my head into the wall.

"Okay." Discomfort is obviously all that's in her head at the moment and I feel like shit for making her feel that way. This is crazy, I'm aware, but I don't care. I want to say something else but I just don't know what.

"How are you?" I ask weirdly. How is she? What the fuck?

"How am I?" She repeats, "I'm um, I'm good." She bobs her head and tucks the loose piece of hair behind her ear. I wish I could do that.

She just looks so beautiful and she's not wearing anything but a t shirt and those same fucking basketball shorts she always used to. I wish I could think something else besides her appearance but I just want to take it in simply because I haven't seen it in so damn long.