Slight Detours | Wattys 2015

(19) JARED

Okay, so first of all, I know this has been an unforgivable 10 months of absence, but I guess that's how long it's taken me to (finally) realize that I was being a terrible author and decided to give you guys a gift... the gift, of course, being the nineteenth chapter of Slight Detours. I'm deeply sorry and I really hope the quality of my writing had not deteriorated. I certainly think it has.

(19) JARED

Ally's watching.

I have no idea why, but it's the first thing I think of as Jules molds her lips onto mine. I could've noticed any other sensation - her fist clutching the material of my shirt, her long legs straying either side of me, her hands freely tangling in my hair, her warm breath mixing with my own. But I don't. Instead, the first person that pops into my head is Ally. Her golden hair, her pouting lips, her eyes that seems to glimmer with excitement whenever I manage to embarrass myself.

For a few, precious seconds, I'm lost. There is no Boneyard Bill or Las Vegas, only Ally and I and the moments we've shared. A fiery sensation fills me to the core and then I remember that it isn't her I'm kissing. It's Jules. I break away from the kiss and in the time span those short breaths the gravity of what I've done hits me.

Shit.

I've subjected her to this... betrayal. I can't believe Ally, of all people, is watching me kiss someone who she loathes and despises. I am a fucking asshole.

I lift Jules' body off me as fast as I can, depositing her gently on the side of the couch farthest away from Ally. When I turn to look at her, her face is drained of color, alarmingly pale. Even though I only catch a glimpse of her expression, seeing the consequence of my stupidity isn't any less depressing. There is no other way to see this. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have paid Jules a glance in the first place, much less kiss her.

Dick move, man.

I can't believe it! What was I thinking? She trusted me, finally admitted that I was some sort of friend to her and I fuck it up. Why do I have to be such a dipshit? I mean, what's wrong with me? I try my best. I swear I do, but I never asked for these compromising situations.

I notice Jules smirking wickedly to my side, but she isn't the one I'm afraid to look at. I gulp down my shame and dare to meet her eyes. But when I do, I end up regretting it. I've never seen a face so disappointed in my entire life. Her lips are neither smiling nor in a frown - they're parted, almost as if still in shock. And her eyes... their usual glow is nowhere to be seen. What were once two perfect spheres of dynamic skies are now dull slates of blue. The rest of her features are contorted in an expression that can only be described unacceptance. It's an imperceptible gesture, but her head shakes from side to side, an indication of denial. And that's the small part that consoles me a little, that she trusted me, even if it was for that short amount of time.

But I'm still kicking myself.

Ally probably hates me now. Yeah, she definitely does, you worthless fool. Even my dry humored conscience fails to alleviate my hate and distain for myself.

It isn't long before frustration takes over. I focus on my clenched fists to prevent myself from punching something or someone in my anger. It's been a while since I've been this angry, really. The last time that I remember being marginally close to this frustrated with myself was last year, when I'd lost the annual Cinnamon Swallow Challenge to Vince.

And that surge of emotion was over nothing. This wasn't nothing. Ally wasn't nothing.

I still think Vince cheated, though. That small detail has always been at the back of my mind. No one gulps down a tablespoon of raw cinnamon and gets away with it. He probably switched his cinnamon for cocoa power or something.