Enigma

3. Love (or something)

"Want me to dry it for you?"

Jake clambers up behind the girl on the bed and takes the towel from her skinny hands. Her head turns, and she gives him a goofy smile that makes him want to kiss, kiss, kiss her. But he doesn't.

As he shuffles the towel around on Lowry's head, she laughs and he's reminded of a time when she could've been his.

She was thirteen, he was fifteen. Her friends, stupid friends, got her drunk for the first time. It was 2am when she called.

"Lowry?" His voice was tired and groggy.

"Heeeey!"

"Are you-" he paused in disbelief. "Are you drunk, Lowry?"'

"Not in the ssslightest. I just called because I miss you. I miss your face."

"Jesus, Lowry. You're thirteen! Are you at home? Are you with Jess and Erin?"

"Yes and no."

"Yes and no, what, Lowry?"  He growled, infuriated with her non-committal answer.

"Yes I'm at home, and no, they left about-" silence. "About a quarter of an hour ago."

"I'm coming over." He hung up and grabbed his black jeans.

Once at Lowry's house, he knocked thrice before entering. He cursed Lowry for being so silly and leaving the door unlocked while home alone.

"Lowry?! You home?" He shouted, at which time the very drunk brunette came bounding down the stairs.

"Jake!" Her smile lit up her entire face, he couldn't help but return the sentiment. Before he could react, her pale arms were wrapped around his neck and her lips were on his. They were soft and warm, and tainted with the sting of liquor. It took all he had to push her away.

"W-what are you doing, Lowe?" She said nothing, but crumpled in a heap at his feet, sobbing into her hands. He picked her up and sat with her on the sofa. "What's wrong, baby?"

"D-don't c-call me th-that!" She cried in between sobs. He didn't know what to do, so stroked her hair until her tears had turned to hiccups.

"Are you alright, Lowe?" He tried again.

"I just-" she breathed deeply, as if preparing herself for what was to come. "Jake, I- I'm in love with you."

All he could do was stare into her watery brown eyes at the revelation.

"It's not the vodka talking, I swear. It's always been you, Jake."

But he said nothing. He put the crying girl to bed and sat by her until sunrise, and then he left.

They didn't speak of it after that.

It haunted him. He could've saved her from the boy with the hazel eyes. Could've saved her the heartache, the utter sadness that came and never left.

But she was thirteen and he was fifteen, and he was too naive to know that no matter how young you are, love is still love.

"Jake?" Lowry's familiar voice waves the daydream away. "Jake, are you alright?" He blinks, the scene of his towel-tangled hands still on Lowry's head coming into focus.

"Yeah, yeah sorry I'm fine. Just zoned out a bit." He drops his hands, bringing the towel with them. Lowry swivels in her position, their crossed legs mirroring one another, knees brushing.