• dynasty • | gnr | kiss | bon jovi |

•19•

The warmth has left the air, leaving nothing but cold rain and the empty promise of what could have been. I curse to myself as I trudge through the weather up to my front door, just wondering what might've happened if I'd kept my mouth shut.

Maybe we'd be somewhere together right now, huddled up to keep warm. Maybe I'd be wearing his Varsity Letterman jacket. Maybe he'd have his arm around me.

I realize I've had little thoughts like these for a long time. I guess I just didn't recognize the attraction until he facilitated it himself.

The clock strikes seven and someone calls my name in the dining room. I'm soaked to the bone in rain and quivering like a leaf in the wind, but I walk in anyways and grimace at what I see.

Jon and his family are seated at the table. Liza and the other chefs are still dishing out food, so I see I'm not all that late.

"Calliope, whatever has happened to you? You're soaking wet," Jon's father says. I look at him and wonder if he ever knew Jon and I broke up in the first place. I seriously doubt it.

"And you're late," my mother notes. I frown at her.

Jon grins deeply at me. It's not a grin I've ever seen from him before, it seems to carry a deeper meaning, something dark. Something mischevous.

"I had Liza set you a place right next to me, sweetheart. Come sit." His eyes narrow. He's so passive-aggressive, it makes me sick to my stomach.

"Come now, child," my father says slowly, as if he's talking to a five year old. "Sit and tell the Bongiovis about your past few weeks. Apparently you've been neglecting to come see them at their place as you usually do."

I groan. "No thanks. I'm not playing this game today, I physically cannot."

Jon's mother is confused. "Whatever do you mean, darling?"

"I mean that I'm not gonna sit here, pretend everything's okay, sit next to your bullshit excuse for a son, and even attempt to entertain your pretentious and hateful conversation. No... I'm going to go up, listen to some Led Zeppelin and unbutton my collar."

I turn on my heel and walk brisky toward the stairs.

Someone says in a puzzled tone, "Led Zeppelin?"

I slam my bedroom door behind me. I manage to slip out of my dress, put on my record, and sit back down to brush the tangles out of my hair before the tears come again, full force.

Why do I have to be such a monster? Why could I just accept the fact that people were going to find us strange and ignore it? If I liked him enough, wouldn't I just not care?

I feel such a recklessness when I'm with him, or even Rose, but that seemed to vanish into thin air the second he kissed me. But why?

The door swings open. Jon stands in the doorway, grinning like he was before and staring at me in my mirror. I wipe my tears away hastily, but it's no use.

"Quite the show you put on down there."

I ignore him and pick up my hairbrush with shaky fingers, shuddering as the bristles get caught in my wet curls.

"Looks like you've been crying. What happened tonight?"

The anger rises up the back of my throat as he eases toward me with his arms crossed, looking smug and ever-so-pleased. He leans against the bureau and smiles down at me, running a hand through his mop of hair.

"Lemme guess. He tried his luck with you, and finally realized who you really are?"

"Who I really am?" I spit menacingly.