He stood for everything she was against and he wouldn't be caught dead befriending someone like her, but when the worst happens and they find themselves in a similar situation, only then will they realize they need each other to discover the anatomy...
***A/N I apologize if anyone hates to read bad words or cuss words! I try to keep them at a minimum but I think they've become somewhat of a staple of our generation and important to the authenticity of dialogue...still, sorry!***
We were on the highway before I knew where we were going. The top to his dad's old convertible was down, and the warm August air was tangling my hair, as I sang along to our song. The dying summer was waving goodbye, as it blanketed us in a green and gold sky.
"Put on your favorite dress," he'd told me when he texted. It'd been a week since I'd seen him and it took two minutes for me to be ready. When he got to my house, I jumped into his arms and didn't let go.
I drank him up and breathed him in and I was alive again. One shot of Jasper and I woke up. He promised we weren't going to sell tonight, but then King called. One of them was looking to score and Jasper was the one with the merch. So we went. And I was livid.
"Don't worry, babe. With this, I can get you that anniversary present I owe you." We'd been together for two years now, since I was fifteen and he was nineteen. Mom had just left and I'd run. But none of that mattered when I saw him. He smiled at me and I knew. He'd already been working for King then. I went with him to a deal that very night, selling to some preps downtown.
But now I hated when he dragged me to one of their circus acts. Watching them prance around as the ringmaster cracked her whip. It was disgusting. But I went, for him. I couldn't be sober for that mess, so we stopped at the liquor store and Jasper got us some Jack and I chugged it, letting it turn my blood into whiskey.
When we got there, I was already half gone, but I could see them staring at us with poorly hidden derision. As if daddy's bank account made them any better than us.
Ginger was pissed when we got there, but didn't give us too much grief. The Rosethorn kid, Ansel, said we'd better go outside and steer clear of the prima donna, in case she decided to come back. So he led us through the small crowd of bourgees and out the back where the cabin overlooked the lake.
"Fifty for a dime."
"Fifty! That's a highway robbery," he replied, shaking his perfectly coifed hair.
"No cash, no coke."
I walked away from Jasper then, making my way down the steps as I heard him begin his usual monologue. If Jasper was anything, he was a master salesman. But I'd heard it a thousand times. The air up here was so clean, I inhaled deeply. If I had to be forced to come along on these things, I was glad there was something like this in it for me. I wanted to shed my clothes, shed my skin, and swim straight into the lake. I wanted to wash their stares off my body, and to cleanse my ears of the whispers they spoke into their hands.
The lake was man made, I noted. Cleaner than a real lake, but unnatural. I turned back disappointed, and to my shock, I saw as Ansel shoved, Jasper. Hard. He knocked into the railing of the deck and fell to his knees. I raced back up to him, tripping in my drunkenness, tearing my tights and skinning my knee. The sting of the cut sobered me up just enough to regain my balance, and I saw Jasper get up and tackle the other guy.
"Jasper! Stop!" He'd started pounding on the poor guy. His fist connected with his face, once, twice, three times, with sickening squelches. I jumped onto him, to try to get him to stop, but when he lifted his hand to push me away, his heavy hand landed on my face, knocking me onto the floor of the deck.
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"You'll kill him!" I said, through the pain that had shot up through my face. This time, I managed to get a reaction. His fist stopped mid punch, his chest heaving with the effort.
"Fuck," he spat. He hastily wiped his bloodied hand on Ansel's button up and got up. The fight had looked worse than it was. The guy's nose might be broken but he'd be okay. We wouldn't be, though, if we stayed here any longer.
"We need to leave," Jasper said. He paused before kneeling down and pulling out a hundred dollar bill from Ansel's wallet, and replacing them with a couple dimes. He grabbed my hand and started dragging me away from the cabin, circling back to the front. I tripped in the dark and he yanked me up with such force, my shoulder popped. When we were by the car, he pushed me to the passenger side door.
"Get in. Now."
"What the hell was that?" I demanded, shoving him as he walked away. The shock had burned away all traces of alcohol in my system, leaving me with a pounding headache.
"Get it, Santana. We need to leave before someone finds him and calls the cops!" He slammed his fists on the hood of the car, his eyes wild.
"They're going to know it was you anyway Jasper! What the hell did you think would happen after you beat his face into a pulp?"
He rounded on me then, pushing me against the car door. His teeth were gritted as he shoved his face almost into mine. In his eyes, I could see that he wasn't sober either. He must have used before he came to pick me up. I hated when he did; it made him crazy. Somehow he'd managed to hide it from me, or I'd been too busy getting drunk to notice.
"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" he screamed in my face. He grabbed me hard and pushed me out of the way. I hit the ground, barely managing to stick my hands out in front of me to keep from breaking the fall with my face. My palms burned as the gravel cut into them. Behind me, I heard the roar of the engine as he started the car, spraying me with pebbles as he peeled out of the drive and onto the road-away from where I lay bleeding.
