Six

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"So how are you going to do it?" Jac asks, a small smile on her lips as she inhales from her cigarette. "You know. Get Brendon in your bed."

"Why does that smell so funny? And I don't know." I respond flatly, and she exhales dramatically through her nose, smoke billowing out her nostrils. "Cloves," She responds, pressing the cigarette in my hand. "And it's not that fucking hard. He's gay, yeah?"

"Well... yes."

"And you're hot, yeah?"

"No, I'm not hot." I say, and she rolls her eyes, sitting up straight. I'm laying flat on my back, my head on a fluffy throw pillow on her bed. I glance up at her, pressing the cigarette to the desk. It hisses out, and will probably burn the wood. Jac doesn't flinch.

"Look at this." She demands, running her hands along her curves, fingers sinking into her skin, and God, I'm definitely looking. "I'm sexy as hell, Ryan Ross."

"And that has to do with me because...?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Because I can get pretty much any guy I want, and I chose you to go to that party with me, way back when."

"That was less than two months ago."

"Metaphorically speaking. This story moves pretty quickly. Lina really needs to work on her character development." Jac says, and I nod. "It's true. She's pretty shitty at it. Thank goodness she has some new plotlines and character arcs soon."

"Yeah, thank goodness. Anyway, my point is, I wanted you out of every guy in this damn school. So I'd say you're pretty hot."

"Thanks, J." I mumble, and then I pause. "Also. Could we continue what we started before the Halloween Dance...?" I ask, desperate to end this conversation. She narrows her eyes. "Focus, Ryan. I'm all for a FWB deal, but we've got to discuss Brendon first. You're avoiding the topic..." She singsongs, raising her eyebrows, and I groan. "Look, he's gay and single, and you're red H-O-T." Jac spells, wiggling her hips, and I laugh despite myself. "So? He's not some type of whore. Why would he want me? I'm not even interesting." I mumble, scoffing, and she leans forward, smacking me lightly across my cheek.

"Excuse you. You are so. And you're my best friend." She says simply, and my eyes widen. "I...am?" I ask, and she huffs. "Yes. And I...well, I love you. I want you to be happy. And Brendon makes you happy." She says, looking downwards, as if she expects me to laugh at her.

I don't.

"I love you too, Jackal." I tease, using the nickname I made up for her the other day. The corners of her mouth curl upwards. "Thanks, Ryebread." She whispers, pecking my lips and sighing broodingly. "But again. Off topic. So, Ryan, my dear, what is your beau's weakness?" She asks, her voice pitching upward as she puts on a trilling British accent. I laugh. "Brendon's weakness? Drugs, maybe."

She frowns. "Well, slipping Brendon a roofie won't do anything for you. Romantically, anyway. Also, it's illegal." She says thoughtfully.

"Jac! I would never." I say severely, and she shrugs. "I was just saying. I'm trying to explore all of our options."

"Giving Brendon Rohypnol isn't an option."

"Okay, fine." She mutters. "Well, let's look at it from another angle."

"What's the angle?"

"What would make you want Brendon to be yours, more than anything?" She asks, and I snort. "Brendon could stab me repeatedly and I'd still want him to be mine."

"That's fucked. Also, not what I mean. Say Brendon did something that drove you crazy, made you want to grab him and declare your eternal love. What would it be?"

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