Tori|
I'm pretty sure I've been transported to some alternate universe. I almost check to see if gravity still works and the sky is still blue, because Jade isn't the Jade I've known her to be all this time. The sharp edges she's always been with, razored and pointed in my direction, just waiting to draw blood, have dulled and rounded over, becoming soft and safe to touch. And she lets me touch her. A lot. Which is weird, but surprisingly not unpleasant.
After she calms herself following her short cry on my bed, I put in another movie. I don't know what it is, not even conscious when I pop open the DVD case and throw the disc in. I move back to the bed and sit beside her and without either of us really thinking about it, our hands find each other in the space between our thighs. Her fingers are hot from the shower, squeezing the spaces between mine. It's not that I mind, exactly - affection is generally a fully accepted aspect of friendship, it's just weird coming from her. The only person I've ever seen her touch is Beck. She would stroke his arm in the hallway, tangle their hands together, lean in so her nose would dip into the curve of his neck. It was romantic, cute, and it was the only time anyone saw the Jade below the rough exterior, the yolk inside the egg.
I blink for a second. Wait, did I just - I did. I called what Jade and I have as a friendship. I glance at her. Her hair is up and it makes her face look different - not bad, no, just different. I've never seen it without her long, thick locks of dark hair tumbling down the sides. I'm not above admitting out loud that Jade is almost inhumanly pretty; she's got this amazing bone structure that just begs to be sculpted into something or painted on a canvas. Without all of her hair in the way, though, I can see more of the lines that make up her shoulders and neck and the delicate slant of her jawbone as it curves below her ear.
I've always known that she's pretty, but it's occurring to me now that she's actually extremely beautiful.
I furrow my brows at her profile. I told her I was her friend. Which I am, but that's just the thing - I'm her friend. That doesn't necessarily mean that she's mine. That's a two way street, and I can be there for her all I want and treat her with as much kindness as I can manage, but if she doesn't reciprocate the friendship, I can't force her.
What if all I am to her is some crutch? A bandaid? A fix she can only get from me because I'm more reliable than the spacey Cat?
I try not to think about it. As the movie drags on, Jade's thumb does the occasional brushing over the back of my palm. I try to ignore it, to pass it off as just spontaneous, vulnerable Jade trying to find some comfort, but it makes all the hairs on my arms grow frigid with attention. She either doesn't notice the effect she's having or is choosing not to say anything.
After the movie fades to black, we go downstairs to rummage around for some food. It's already nearly noon, so I throw in a pizza for us to share. Jade sits on the arm of the couch Trina is sprawled on, a bag of Doritos on her stomach. She's so engrossed in whatever TV show she's watching, she barely glances up as the oven warms up in silence. I'm about to ask Jade something, anything to try and get a conversation going, but a) she doesn't even look like she's in her head at all and b) my parents come downstairs.
Mom, applied with fresh make-up, smiles in surprise at Jade and I realize I had forgotten to even mention she was there. Dad eyes her with suspicion before moving to the kitchen.
"Oh, yeah, Mom, this is Jade. You remember her."
"Of course I do!" Mom, all blinding smiles and kind eyes, draws Jade into an awkward, tense hug. Jade's green eyes peel over to glare at me from the living room, and all I can do is give her an apologetic wince. "You didn't say you were having friends over, Tori."
