Black Widow

Unraveling

Jade's POV

Troy's hands roamed over me like he thought he was some kind of romantic lead, and for a heartbeat, I almost laughed.

Almost.

He really believed he could play me like a song – all rhythm, no substance, and charm his way past my walls with a couple of cheap lines and a half-decent kiss.

The light in the room was soft and dirty, the kind that made everything look like a mistake, and his cologne was trying too hard to impress. To me it was just landing too sweet, too sharp, almost as if it were intending to cover something up. The air felt thick, heavy with expectation, and all that was beginning to weigh in on me. Every brush of his fingers settled like static through glass. I could feel it, but I couldn't feel him.

I wasn't really there. Not fully.

Then it hit like cold stone — that familiar, crushing tightness in my chest, like freezing water filling my lungs. It felt like that exacto same panic that came over me whenever I feel like I lost control.

I sighed mentally. Not now. Not again.

My body remembered what my mind had been pretending to forget and my hands curled into fists before I even realized it.

I shoved Troy off me, harder than I was meaning to.

He laid there, idle for a second.

And there it was again – my famous void stare. "It's not happening." My words pierced right out of my lips as I reached for my jacket. 

"Sorry." I puckered sarcastically. "Not your lucky night, I guess."

He blinked again, confused, like he wasn't cut out to process rejection. 

But I was already out the door, my heartbeat desperately pounding louder, fighting to regain control.

Outside, the air was cold and unapologetic. It bit at my skin in an attempt to ground me just enough, when I saw Liz leaning against the brick wall, mascara smudged and her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold in whatever drama had just spilled out.

"What now?" I sighed, sliding beside her.

She sniffled. "Victoria. We fought. Again."

Nevermind me starting to like the woman.

"I figured." I picked at a thread on my sleeve. "You two could get a Netflix deal at this point."

That earned a half-laugh — progress.

"You know," I said, glancing sideways at her, "if we ever wrote a guide on keeping life simple, we'd both fail spectacularly."

It was supposed to be a joke but, quite frankly, it fell short. It felt true.

***

The hallway blurred into the street, and the street blurred into a cab that smelled like lavender and old fries fighting for protagonism. The driver didn't talk, which was ideal, because I just didn't have it in me to pretend that night. I watched the streetlights bleed across Liz's face, cutting her into flashes of worry and exhaustion. I just needed something – anything – to keep me distracted.

Then my phone buzzed.

Jesse.

"Hey," I said, frowning in suspicion. "What's up?"

His voice was too quiet and tight, dark even. "I think my dad's back."

My stomach flipped. "Back as in—?"