𝐈 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Althea

  By the time Monday came around, I had thought of nearly a thousand different ways to apologize to Jonesy for my behavior at the party. None of them seemed to say "sorry I told you I was still in the closet and then proceeded to ask you to wait for me to finally get the balls to come out to my parents" eloquently.

  Jonesy had spent the past two nights across the hall in Gemma and Bela's room so I had the dorm to myself. Well, myself and Aiden; he had insisted on staying over so "I wouldn't be alone."

  At first I was uncomfortable with the idea, thinking that he would probably want to have sex or at least do something other than make out, but surprisingly enough, he took my sexual distance as a sign of me being a virgin and was scared of having sex. I didn't tell him otherwise.

  It was nice though; we spent time going over our audition roles, which was so much easier on carpeted floors than on the ice. I introduced him to The Seven Deadly Sins which he actually seemed to enjoy, and had several conversations that were much deeper than how much money our families made.

  I didn't tell him about what happened in Gemma's room at the party; that was between Jonesy and I. At least I hoped she would keep it just between us. It felt weird not seeing her everyday, I had grown so accustomed to the chaotic mess that was Jonesy Claypoole.

  We finally crossed paths that Monday morning; I was making my way towards my first calls of the day just as she was going back to Gemma's having been who knows where. I had been so deep in my thoughts, my daily horoscope playing through my headphones that I didn't see her until I ran directly into her.

"Fuck, I'm sorry." She mumbled, her signature smirk nowhere to be seen. When our eyes met, I noticed how dull and almost lifeless hers were. The spark in them was gone and her face looked pale and gray, as if she hadn't seen the sun in days.

"Hey, are you okay? You look really tired." I pulled my books tighter to my chest to keep myself from reaching out and taking her hand in mine; she didn't look like she wanted to be touched.

  Jonesy's eyes flickered to the hall behind me and as she ran a hand through her hair, a flash of bright red caught my eye. Her knuckles were stained red and blood slowly dripped down her wrist.

  With a clatter my books dropped as did my stomach and before I could control myself, I reached out and grabbed her hand. I carefully looked over her bruised hand, ignoring the sounds of protest coming from her.

"Jonesy, what happened?" I demanded. Her fingers trembled slightly and she looked as if she was about to pass out. "Don't you dare say "nothing" because this is absolutely not nothing."

"Bossy as always, Beckett." Her words slurred and it was at the moment I caught the scent of alcohol on her breath. Alcohol this early in the morning? Something was definitely wrong; Jonesy didn't drink.

"I got into a fight," she finally answered, rolling her eyes and shrugging. "It's not a big deal."

"Your knuckles are split open, Jonesy."

"They've been worse."

I sighed and dropped her hand. She played hockey, of course her knuckles have been worse. I had seen the scars on her fingers the other night in Gemma's bathroom. She must get into fights regularly as they never seemed to have healed properly. Perhaps she just never had someone to take care of her and her bruised knuckles. That would need to change.

"C'mon, I'm going to stitch you up." I picked up my books and turned around back towards our dorm. I looked over my shoulder to see if she was behind me. She was still standing with that dumbfounded expression on her face which she quickly pulled into a sloppy smile when I jerked my head, telling her to follow me.

"Don't you have class?" She asked, catching up to me. Her legs were so much longer than mine, it only took her two steps to be by my side.

"Don't you?" I rebutted, trying to keep my tone neutral as she stared at me. What could she possibly be staring at?

  "Your audition is today," she finally said matter of factly. She wasn't asking a question, simply stating a fact.