Empty Bargains ~Jason McCann~

~9.14~

    I woke with a start the next morning, almost like a nightmare I couldn’t remember scared me out of sleep.  My eyes were staring blearily toward the door to Jason’s room, half obstructed by sheets.  I was curled tightly on Jason’s bed and almost drowning in the comforter, the pain in my back only half as bad as it had been the past few days.  Aside from the jolt back to consciousness, I’d slept better than I had since I got to Jason’s.

    I sucked in a deep breath and stretched my arms over my head.  Looking over my shoulder suddenly, I realized Jason wasn’t in the bed.  A smile stretched across my face, knowing he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing me give in.  He was probably still out, though, because it felt early in the morning.  Sitting up, I tried to rub a little of the sleep out of my eyes.  But when I opened them, the heap of sleeping bag and air mattress woke me up more than I would’ve liked.

    Jason was lying at the foot of the bed, sprawled out in a sleeping bag and breathing deeply.  His head was turned toward me, jaw slack and expression relaxed.  Like this, it was much easier to see why most of the girls I knew around here worshiped the ground he walked on — he really was attractive, when he wasn’t trying to control everything and acting like a dick.

    I mentally shook myself.  Jason was never not a dick, and I had to remember that.  I pressed my palms to my temples and closed my eyes, trying to figure out why he hadn’t slept in the bed.  There must’ve been a reason, probably to piss me off by playing himself off as a nice person, or to mess with my head.  I couldn’t let it get to me, I wouldn’t.

    My feet swung over the side of the bed and landed on cold floor.  I padded over toward the bathroom, but stopped almost as soon as I’d started.  Right in my path were four brand-less shopping bags filled to the brim with clothes.  My eyebrows rose and I crept up to them, noticing right away that they for sure weren’t guys’ clothes.  I dug my hand in one of them and pulled out a navy long sleeved shirt, a nice one that looked moderately expensive.  My fingers closed around the collar and flipped up the tag, revealing the shirt was, in fact, my size.

    My jaw clenched and I stuffed the shirt back into the bag.  Jason had nerve!  The only reason I even took food from him was to not starve; why would he think I’d take anything like this?  Another way to screw with me, that’s what this was.  He was trying to show how much bigger of a person he was by childish means.  My temper brewed and I grabbed two of the bags by the handles.  Spinning on him, I threw the bags at Jason as hard as I could, then grabbed the other two and threw them.

    “What the hell!?” came his groggy voice from the sleeping bag.  I could see him struggling to sit up and he pushed the bags from on top of him.  “What—?”

    “I’m not taking that,” I snapped, crossing my arms.  “Whatever you’re playing at, I’m not biting.  So you can cut this ‘I’m better than you’ bullshit and keep to yourself.  I didn’t ask you for that, nor will I ever.  Don’t think for one second that you’ll ever be a better person than anyone.”

    Jason had sat up, his hair disheveled and eyes trying hard to focus.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

    I scoffed.  “The clothes, you asshole!  And why the hell are you sleeping on the floor?”