"What's up with me?" Jenna turned to look at me. She appeared bewildered by my question. "Is the queen of personal subject deflection really asking that?"
"Yeah, I am. Don't think I didn't notice the weird way you've been acting lately," I pointed out, referring to how quiet she'd been and the strange way she'd been acting whenever the subject of Lucas came up.
Jenna sighed. "How about I tell you what's going on with me after you tell me what's eating you, alright?" I arched a brow, almost surprised by Jenna's snappy behaviour. I'd known Jenna for just over three years now, and for the most part, she was a very happy, bubbly person. Although I'd been dealing with my own shit, I had definitely noticed the strange undercurrent to her smiles and laughter recently.
There was something going on with Jenna and I'd been too locked up in my own head to even ask what was going on with hers. I was a crappy friend, but I was going to change that.
No more living in the darkness; it was time to pull myself completely out again. Somehow.
"Fine, after I get home from work we'll get some Ryan Gosling therapy, and we'll babble on and on about our wounded hearts and souls while we eat straight out of the ice cream container...alright? But right now, we should probably both get to class before we're late."
"Fine." This time, the smile that touched Jenna's lips was almost real, but there was still a sadness and uncertainty in her eyes. "Have a good day, Harlow," she added as she walked off in the direction of her first class. I turned around, about to finally head inside. My toes were cold and I knew my coffee was beginning to drop in temperature too. January was a frigid bitch.
"Harlow! Harlow, wait up!" I almost cringed at the exuberantly familiar voice shouting my name at a pitch that even Mariah Carey would be envious of, but I refrained from doing so, knowing that it would only hurt her feelings. Instead, I turned around and forced a smile.
"Hey, Crimson. How was your break?" I asked. I hadn't had a chance to see Crimson since the incident, or at least...I'd been avoiding her since then. It was fairly easy, considering we didn't have any classes together this semester.
Crimson leaned forward, trying to catch her breath. It wasn't that I didn't like Crimson's company—I didn't mind it, actually. I genuinely liked her, but I just wasn't ready for her torrent of questions that I knew would undoubtedly come flying at me in rapid succession. She meant well, and I knew that, but she was a lot to handle; especially when my short term goal was to forget that it happened.
Crimson was still bent forward with her palms on her knees, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She brushed back her bright curly red hair and peered up at me with astonishment, her jaw practically hanging open.
"How was my break?" Crimson repeated, dumbfounded. Her eyes were as wide as her mouth. She almost looked comical. "I've been trying to get a hold of you forever. How are you?"
"Oh, you know, just dandy," I replied, shrugging.
Crimson stood up to her full height. Even then, she was still pretty short. She scrutinized me, zeroing in on the scar on my cheek. "I am so sorry," she said, almost whispering. Her eyes were full of sympathy and before I could react, she grabbed me in a hug so tight that I could scarcely breathe. It was surprising just how strong Crimson was—I would have never guessed that she could crush ribs with her small frame.
"It's alright," I said, awkwardly patting her back. I was not good at hugging people. I could only count three people who had made that kind of physical contact feel normal for me. Everyone else just made me feel like a gazelle in a canoe. I swallowed hard, trying to untangle myself from Crimson. Thankfully, she took the hint and gave me some space.
"It's not alright." Crimson shook her head. "Are you nuts? I can't believe that happened to you!"
"Well, you know, it's not the first time," I remarked. Crimson winced, taking it the wrong way. "I didn't mean..." I trailed off, feeling completely overwhelmed and a little bit aggravated.
"I know, it's just...yeah..." she trailed off as well, both of us at a loss as to how to continue this conversation.
Crimson was dating my ex-boyfriend, Cole. The same ex-boyfriend from high school that was involved in my sexual assault. I honestly thought for the longest time that Cole had participated—that all the guys had. I only recently found out that only one of the guys had raped me, that the rest had held Cole back and then blackmailed him into silence.
I mean, it still wasn't good by any means, but Cole also wasn't the total monster I had envisioned for years. He was just a coward, and a hurting one at that. He'd tried to apologize to me, but when I showed him the door and told him exactly where to take his fucked up apology, he tried to kill himself. He was found in time, and last I heard, he was receiving inpatient treatment for his depression.
"How is he?" I finally asked, the silence getting to me. I wasn't as cold and impervious as I liked people to think, and I did care that Cole had nearly taken his own life out of desperation. I hadn't known that he was suffering as bad as he was, and truthfully, I hadn't cared enough to listen to him until it was almost too late.
"He's...alright." Crimson's expression fell for a fraction of a second before she reined it in, focusing on my face intently. "But let's talk about you."
"I don't really want to talk about me," I responded shortly, turning around to head inside. I felt a smidgen of guilt over shutting Crimson down like that, but I was honestly sick of people pestering me about whether I was okay. Obviously, I wasn't fucking okay and I didn't particularly want to get into it with everyone and their mother.
I just wanted to live my life and be happy. I wanted to forget about it.
I paused by the door, turning back to face her. Although I didn't want to talk about the attack, I didn't want her to feel like I didn't want to talk to her. "Do you want to grab lunch tomorrow?"
Crimson's face split into a happy grin. "Yeah! Sure!"
With my shift at the coffee shop finally over, I locked up the store front and headed home. The walk was quick, but I was still on edge, still clenching the Kubotan pen that Jax had gifted me shortly after the attack within my coat pocket. It was an added sense of security for me, more of a comfort than anything, like walking around with a proverbial teddy bear.
I was no longer able to listen to music during my walks home, like I had for years. I was too paranoid now. I needed to hear every little sound in the night; I needed to see everything.
I let out a gentle exhale of relief as I thundered up the wooden stairs to the apartment I shared with Jenna. She was already in front of the TV, waiting for me with a Ryan Gosling movie on pause.
"Somebody's eager for some Gosling bod tonight." I snorted, kicking my boots off and discarding my jacket on the island stool before flopping down beside Jenna. She already had the ice cream carton out in front of her with two spoons. I snagged one up, wasting no time in diving in.
"Of course." Jenna grinned, grabbing the remote and hitting play. The volume was down low enough that it wouldn't distract us entirely, but there was something about Ryan Gosling that always instantly cheered Jenna up and made it easier for the both of us to talk.
Talking had never been my strong suit. Even though I had known Jenna for years now, even though she knew some of my darkest secrets...I still had a hard time letting her in. It wasn't easy for me like it was for most people.
Ryan Gosling was a tradition that started in high school, and it seemed to be the only time I could truly open up to Jenna.
"So, today fucking sucked," I remarked, brushing my hair behind my shoulders before taking another massive scoop.
"Why?" Jenna inquired, not looking at me. This was how our deeper conversations happened: the both of us staring at some weird romantic comedy while stuffing our face full of ice cream or Chinese food. Or on bad nights, all of the above.
"First off, Crimson cornered me after you left. She kept asking me if I was okay."
"And that's a problem because? She cares about you, she's worried about you," Jenna scolded. Jenna
was quite fond of Crimson. Crimson was easy to like; she was sweet, happy and maybe a little naive. She almost made others want to protect her and shelter her from the world. She had this rare gift of seeing the good in absolutely everybody, including people who didn't deserve it. But she could also be overbearing and over excitable.
"I know." I rolled my eyes, sighing. I didn't need a lecture on how sweet Crimson was. It was one of the things about her that I liked. And hated. "It's just...hard. I just don't want to talk about the attack anymore."
I felt Jenna's eyes on my face, so I purposely stared ahead. "So tell her that. I'm sure she would respect it. She isn't one to poke at a sore spot."
"I know." I sighed again, knowing that Jenna was right. Crimson was just concerned about me. I couldn't be mad at her for it. If the roles were reversed, I suppose I would be just as worried about her.
"She's trying to be your friend. She hasn't really seen you since before Christmas break and I know she misses you," Jenna said.
"How do you know that?" I tilted my head, studying my friend carefully.
Jenna scooped up more ice cream, slowly eating it before she responded."I've been hanging out with her," she explained. "You've been so busy doing your own thing lately, and I've been so bored. I ran into her at the mall and she asked if I wanted to go out for lunch and catch a movie. I did. We've been hanging out a lot, and we talk on Facebook sometimes too." Jenna shrugged as if it was no big deal, and I knew it wasn't. I couldn't be mad at my friend for making friends with...my friends. "You should really stop pushing her away. Besides, I think she needs friends right now," Jenna added gently. "If you have a hard time letting her be there for you, why don't you let yourself be there for her?"
Jenna knew how I operated. I may not be able to let people fuss about me, but I certainly would put aside my own issues to be there for them. I'd done the same thing with Jenna in high school.
"Fine, let's all get mani-pedis and have a slumber party," I said dryly, rolling my eyes. It irked me that Jenna was right; I wanted to sulk about things for a while. I wanted to shut myself off from everyone, but she knew with that one comment that I would try and be there for Crimson. When I was irritated, my defense mechanism was sarcasm. Jenna pinned me with her gaze, unimpressed with my sarcastic wit. My shoulders slumped slightly, and I put on my best, most innocent looking smile. "I'll try to stop being a bitch, okay?"
“You know what? That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Jenna said thoughtfully. She assessed me carefully, a slow smile perking her up lips. The expression on her face reminded me of a cunning fox; Jenna was up to something.
“The whole ‘stopping the bitch act’ part?” I inquired.
“No, the slumber party…” She trailed off and I could practically hear the gears grinding in her head. Her eyes lit up like the Fourth of July and she twisted her body towards mine, her knee bashing off mine in her haste. “Let’s do a girls’ weekend!”
“You already know I don’t do that spa shit,” I argued crossly, scowling.
“Then we won’t do spa shit.” Jenna grinned. “I have something else in mind. But more about that later—I have to make some calls. For now, how about you tell me what’s really bugging you.”
“What are you talking about?” I tried to keep my voice passive, but Jenna saw through me and rolled her eyes.
“I’m talking about Iain," Jenna said slowly. She folded her legs beneath her body and shot me another one of her famous penetrating stares. I knew she was reading me like a book for my reactions. That was one of the setbacks to letting people in: they started to learn your unspoken language. "Have you seen him since?"
"No," I answered, my taste for ice cream evaporating. I stared ahead, but the TV seemed out of focus. All I could envision was Iain's face. The way he had looked standing in front of me in the moments before his hands had tangled gently in my hair, pulling my lips toward him. I closed my eyes, trying to drive that image from my mind as the guilt brewed.
I knew that I didn't want to be with Iain, but I still couldn't help but be haunted by the feel of his lips on me...and by the fact that I had kissed him back. I wanted to think that I had more self-control than that.
"Harlow." Jenna turned her body toward me; her eyes looked wounded. "You need to forgive yourself. Jax already has. That man doesn't have a question about you...and it's obvious how he makes you feel. The only times you smile lately are when he's around. Don't think I don't notice."
"Speaking of smiles." I looked at her hard. "What's with yours?"
"What about mine?" Jenna looked momentarily confused.
"There's something going on with you, and you said you'd spill so...spill."
Realization dawned on Jenna's features, and she smiled sadly. "I don't know, it's complicated."
"Right, I wouldn't get that at all," I pointed out. Jenna chuckled, shaking her head slightly. She bit her lip and stared at the TV again. "Is it Lucas?" I gently pressed. I wasn’t just eager for the topic change; I wanted to know what was up with her. Absently, I picked up my spoon again. The ice cream was beginning to melt, and the spoon sank easily into the rocky road goodness.
Her eyes quickly snapped back to my face and I could see the guilt and confusion. She hesitated for a moment before she slowly exhaled. "Yeah."
"What's going on?" I set the spoon down, focusing my attention on her.
"I just...something is missing." Jenna bit her bottom lip, avoiding my gaze. "Like, I look at you and Jax and I see such passion and desire. And I just...I don't have that. I keep trying to, you know—be intimate with him—but..." She sighed again, tucking her hair behind her ear and raising her cornflower blue eyes to meet mine. They were watery with unshed tears. "I think I'm broken."
"You are not broken," I told her. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I paused. "Okay, maybe you are...just a little bit." Jenna snorted in response while I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I considered my words carefully. "Jenna, your first introduction to sex was...not good."
"Neither was yours, and you seem to be doing alright," Jenna countered, crossing her arms like a sullen teenager.
"Yes, but don't follow my example. Not everybody is the same. Besides, you went through it more recently too, and you had a hell of a lot more to deal with than I did,” I reminded her gently.
Jenna ended up pregnant from her rapist. She hadn't been able to consider any other alternative, so she had carried the baby to term and put her up for adoption. We didn't talk about it often because Jenna didn't want to talk about it, but I knew her birth daughter was never far from her mind. Hell, Jenna's daughter was never far from my mind, either. I constantly thought about her, especially when I thought about Iain. Iain's sister was Jenna's daughter's adoptive mother, although Jenna didn't know that. It was yet another piece of the guilt I had, and each day it felt heavier and heavier. I knew I needed to tell my best friend, but I just didn't know how. The mere subject of her birth daughter sent her spiraling into depression every time. She fell into darkness whenever she received an update letter, and it took her weeks to pull herself out again.
I didn’t want to put her through that. Maybe that was selfish of me, I didn’t know. I just couldn’t watch her heart break like that and know that I was the cause of it.
"So is this how it's going to be for the rest of my life?" Jenna asked, her question pulling me away from my thoughts. I looked up, watching the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Am I always going to flinch whenever a man touches me like that?"
I bit my lip, my own eyes watering at my best friend's pain. Like I said, I hated seeing Jenna in pain. She was too bubbly and sweet to feel pain like this. I put my arm over her shoulders, pulling her close to me. Jenna was one of the three people that I could hug. "I don't know," I admitted quietly. "Do you want to be intimate with him?"
"I think I do...but then when we start...I panic," Jenna whispered, resting her head against my shoulder.
"Maybe you're just not ready yet. Maybe you just need a
little more time. Is Lucas being understanding?" I demanded, pulling away to search her eyes. "I swear to God, if he's pressuring you, I'll make him suffer."
Jenna furiously brushed away the tears from her eyes, but they kept coming. It was as if the floodgates had opened and stopping them wasn't happening any time soon. "No, he's fine. He gets it; he doesn't pressure me at all about it. Honestly, it's...me."
"Then stop pressuring yourself," I told her softly. "The worst thing you could do is rush it before you're ready," I added, thinking about the first time I was intimate after my rape. I had been so numb that I hadn't felt a thing...and that wasn't good.
Jenna's face broke into despair again and she tried to hide it in her hands. "God, I feel like fucking Claire Danes when I cry."
"You're more like Dawson," I joked, shoving my shoulder against her playfully. "Seriously, nobody cries pretty. Don't worry about it. I promise I won't take any photos and turn them into memes."
She laughed. "Gee, thanks, Harlow. That's so considerate of you."
"I know." I smirked. "Now, let's watch this part. Ryan's about to take off his shirt," I added, turning up the volume.
* * *
Jax knocked on our door just as the credits started to roll. A small smile spread to my lips, and Jenna grinned in response, shaking her head.
"I'll make myself scarce," she promised, standing to tidy our mess as I jumped up.
"Don't worry about that." I rolled my eyes, starting towards the door.
"Trust me, it's not for your benefit...it's for mine. I'm going to drown out all sounds with my new Autumn Fields CD." Jenna's eyes glazed over momentarily.
"Still got a thing for that guy, huh?" I asked, looking back at her and smirking at the tell-tale smile on her face.
"Very funny." It was Jenna's turn to roll her shining eyes at me. "It's just a crush. Like my crush on Ryan Gosling."
"Okay, whatever. But Ryan Gosling doesn't follow you on Twitter, Instagram, and have you as a friend on Facebook," I said.
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