sendthemback (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sendthemback) wrote2009-11-23 01:08 am
sendthemback) wrote2009-11-23 01:08 am
Day 22
Drama through the window. Rachel literally runs away from her problems. Awkward texting. Pizza and weed with Jon.
Words required: 36,674
Words achieved: 39,379
Words of today: 2,863
XXIII.
Rachel's stomach jumps into her chest. Stephen hasn't opened the door yet, but she sees the man through the glass and immediately backs up, breaking away from her companions.
"What's--" Stephen starts.
Rachel shakes her head and steps quickly back onto the sidewalk, not slowing her pace until she's made it halfway down the block.
"I can't go in there. I can't fucking go in there," she murmurs. She immediately takes to placing, her head ducked slightly, her left hand in her pocket and the fingers of her right strumming against her thigh.
"Ex-boyfriend?" Stephen jokes.
Rachel stares up at him, all of the color draining out of her face, and then Keith is at her side, draping his arm around her. He glares back at Stephen before turning his attention back to Rachel.
"Are you gonna be sick again?" he whispers. "We can go home."
Stephen frowns, circling around them. "You were sick earlier? You didn't tell me."
"Keith and I drank a little too much last night," Rachel mumbles, staring down at her shoes. "I should probably eat something, I just... Can we go somewhere else?"
"Of course," Stephen answers. "Let me just think for a second."
Rachel nods, carefully shrugging Keith off of her shoulders. She paces a slow, long, circle, then pulls out her phone. "I gotta check something really quick, okay?"
"Okay," Keith answers. Stephen nods vigorously, taking a step toward Keith as Rachel starts to walk away from them.
"What is going on?" he breathes. Keith shakes his head.
Rachel's shaking slightly as she approaches the door again. Her hands go to her collar, tugging at the hood of her sweatshirt, but she stops herself. That would just be stupid. She swings into the doorway, peeking through the glass.
Chris's back is to her, which is probably a blessing, really. Still, taking this second look, she's sure it's him. He's sitting with two men, and they seem to be talking quite animatedly about something. Ana's not there, though, not at the table any way. Rachel takes a slow breath and then turns back again, punching buttons on her BlackBerry.
Are you in New York?
A full minute passes without an answer. Rachel looks down the street and sees Keith and Stephen watching them. She waves them off and they both turn their eyes away.
When her phone finally buzzes, she steals one last look at the guys and sees that they're now talking about something, probably purposely trying not to look back. She takes a breath and starts running, tearing off in the other direction.
She doesn't stop until she's turned two corners and crossed a random street. Then, she looks down at the screen, holding her breath as she presses the unlock button.
why?
Rachel sighs and starts walking again, continuing down the street as she types out her reply. I just saw your husband eating at a restaurant in Manhattan.
yes
It's the least helpful text she's received in quite a while. Yes you're in NY or just yes he's in NY or what?
Two more blocks. She takes a right and crosses another street. Her phone starts to ring, but when she looks down at the screen, it's Keith's number. She takes a few seconds to decide to answer it.
"Hey."
"Where the hell are you?"
"I had to do something. Why don't you and Stephen get something to eat and--"
"That's... That's stupid, Rachel. Get your ass back over here and--ah."
"Keith?" Rachel's phone buzzes loudly against her ear and she jerks it away with a grunt, clearing the message. "What just happened."
"I see who you're avoiding. You don't have to run off, though, we can go all the way to Jersey for lunch if you want..."
"No... Look, I've got something I need to do, okay? I'll call you."
She hangs up before he can answer, opening her messages.
why?
"For fuck's sake..." Rachel opens up her contacts. Keith calls again, but she sends it to voicemail and then selects Red off of her list, waiting for the number to start dialing before she puts the phone to her ear.
"This is a really shitty time, okay?" Ana answers. "What do you want?"
Rachel has to catch her breath for a few seconds before she can speak again, and she can hear Ana's breathing, too, though hers is more irritated than terrified. Finally, she clears her throat.
"I thought you said you were done with New York."
Rachel hears something that almost sounds like a laugh. "It's a big city. I'm not going to avoid it for the rest of my life because of one stupid mistake."
"Stupid mistake?" Rachel breathes, her stomach finally dropping out of her chest.
"Several stupid mistakes, then. Look, do you want something, or...?"
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at bags." Rachel hears a shuffling noise and she knows Ana is switching the way she's holding her phone, probably pressing it between her shoulder and her cheek.
"So, you're nearby?"
"Nearby what?"
"Where are you?"
"Rachel, I'm not... I'm not doing this, not right now. Whatever the hell is going on with you, I'm sorry, but, well..."
Rachel's phone buzzes in her ear again. "Can you hold on just one second?"
Ana lets out a short, heavy sigh and Rachel switches over.
"Look, just stop." She hangs up just as she realizes it's Stephen this time. She doesn't really care. When she tries to switch over again, Ana's gone.
"Well, fuck."
Rachel takes a look around. She's coming up on the 49th Street station. She briefly considers just getting on the subway and letting it take her where ever she ends up. Instead, she steps out toward the street and flags down a passing cab. She really just wants to go home. It wouldn't be too bad of a walk, but she doesn't feel like taking the chance of being caught on the street.
XXIV.
She probably shouldn't start drinking again, not after the last couple of days and after how little she's eaten or kept down, but it's the only thing she can think to do. She sticks some bread into the toaster while she considers her alcohol, and the smell of cooking bread makes her think maybe she'll order some pizza later. The toast pops up, only half-done, really, and she snatches up the bourbon and an empty glass.
She's just settled in on the couch with her drink and her bread when her phone buzzes yet again. She almost doesn't bother with it, but then all the vaguest possibilities spring into her head, and so, she finally snatches it up.
Jon.
Rachel huffs and reads the message.
What's this I hear about a Maddow on the lam?
She actually smiles. Watch out. I'm working on pissing off everyone I know today. You could be next.
Rachel takes a long drink.
I'd be honored. You at your apartment?
She considers the message for just a second.
Yes. Come alone and I'll even feed you free pizza.
Pepperoni and mushroom?
Bad Jew.
And don't you forget it. Be there in about 20.
Rachel gets out her computer and looks up the number for her favorite local place. The man who answers is remarkably pleasant for a New Yorker, so Rachel adds an order of breadsticks to the pizza. She gets her total and a promise of 45 minutes or less and hangs up. Then, all she can do is wait. She flips through her messages again, vaguely amazed that neither Keith nor Stephen has tried to reach her again, but, then, they probably sent Jon after her, anyway.
She briefly considers trying Ana again, texting her at the very least, but she shakes her head and checks her e-mail instead, paging randomly through old messages until she hears a knock. Jon gets to her in less than 15 minutes, and Rachel doesn't ask about his speed. She just accepts the six pack out of his arms, stashing it in the refrigerator as she plucks them out a bottle each.
When she returns to the living room with the beers and a bottle opener, she finds Jon leaning over the coffee table with his weed and a box of rolling papers.
He smiles up at her. "I heard you were a little nauseated earlier and thought..."
Rachel laughs. "Is there anything they didn't tell you?"
"I'm sure there's a lot, actually." He frowns down at his hands. "You don't have a pipe, right?"
"Right. Sorry." She sits down beside him, popping open their bottles. ""Paraphernalia makes me paranoid."
"No, that's just the crap you've been smoking," Jon jokes. He takes a sip of his beer and then gets to work.
Rachel watches him tuck the green buds into the paper, pulling them apart and pressing them down with his fingers. When he's done, he rolls it all up and licks it sealed, passing it over to her as he hunts through his pockets for a lighter.
"This should help the pizza go down," he says as he flicks the zippo open. Rachel nods and then takes a drag, tasting a little trace of lighter fluid on the inhale.
She passes the joint to him. "I ordered breadsticks, too."
"Good work," he says with a smile.
They smoke in silence, passing the joint back and forth until Rachel has had more than enough. She leans back on the couch, idly watching Jon as he breathes out little puffs of smoke. When he's finished, he takes the butt into the kitchen, dousing it in the sink before tossing it into the trash.
He returns to the living room and Rachel remembers her beer, taking a small sip as he settles back down again.
"So," she says. "Tell me something funny."
Jon grins. "I can't think of a damn thing."
They're still laughing with the buzzer rings, and Rachel has a minor freak out over the fact that she swears there's still smoke hanging in the air, but Jon calms her down with a dramatic eye roll and she finally answers the door.
The delivery guy has probably delivered to a thousand stoners during his career and he doesn't even bat an eye, doesn't even smile, just hands Rachel two cardboard boxes and accepts her cash.
"You want to eat this in the kitchen?" she asks as she shuts the door. Jon stretches out his arms and legs and shakes his head.
"Hell no. Plus, I am not entirely sure I can move right now. You could stand to invest in a bigger couch, though, a bigger apartment, really, since that's actually the only way you could probably fit a bigger couch..."
Rachel drops the pizza box into his lap with a snort. "Stop complaining and eat."
"Okay, okay." He waits for her to sit down again before he finally sits up. He cracks open the box and immediately breaks into a wicked grin. "This is beautiful."
Rachel snorts. "Pass me a piece, and don't forget the sticks."
"Oh, there'll be plenty time for the sticks..." He flips the lid open all the way, gripping the side of the box to keep it from tipping over. Rachel stares at the mass of grease, momentarily entranced by the way the cheese stretches down from the slice he pulls out for her. She accepts the piece with both hands and immediately begins cursing when the hot cheese and sauce burns her hands.
Jon laughs. "Maybe we should have gotten plates?"
"Plates are for chumps," she answers, shoving the end of the slice into her mouth as the sauce starts to drip down. She curses again, grabbing her beer from the table as the cheese stings the roof of her mouth. Jon reaches out and takes her pizza from her, dropping it down on the box as she recovers.
"Maybe napkins would be good," she admits.
Jon takes a quick bite and then puts his slice down next to hers. "Just tell me where..."
"Nah, I got it."
Jon gives her two minutes and half a piece of pizza before he drags himself up off of the couch and slips into the tiny kitchen.
"Hey," he says, cocking his head at her. She's staring out the window toward the dimming afternoon sky. "Get lost?"
"Sorry," she answers, looking up at him. "I just started thinking, and..."
"It's okay. Happens to the best of us." He follows her eyes out to the blue. "I'm impressed that you can actually see the sky from your apartment."
Rachel smiles. "Just from here, and in my room, from the bed, I guess, if you lie at the right angle."
"That's nice."
Rachel laughs. "Yeah, nice."
"Come on," Jon says. "And grab some napkins. The pizza is probably actually cool enough for us to eat without hurting ourselves, now."
Two more slices and a breadstick fight later, Jon tosses a groaning Rachel's feet out of his lap and starts to roll another joint, pausing to grab a napkin and wipe the grease off of his fingers. Rachel leans up, dropping her head on his shoulder and watching him work.
"I used to know how to do that," she says.
Jon grins. "I'm sure you still do. It's like riding a bike, or something... You could try it if you wanted."
"No. I'm too full for manual dexterity right now. Go ahead."
"'Too full for...' I have to say, that's a new one in my book."
"It's a dangerous situation," Rachel protests. "What if I were in a car accident and had to get my seatbelt undone?"
"Well, I'd hope you'd be smarter than to drive on a third of a joint and six tons of pizza and breadsticks."
Rachel snorts. "I could be the passenger, you know."
"True, I suppose. Or you could walk."
"I usually walk."
"That explains a lot."
Rachel grins as Jon sticks the joint between her lips.
"So, tell me," he says once they've passed it back and forth a half a dozen times. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"
"Oh, so we're gonna be serious now?" she asks, stealing the joint back from him. She takes a long drag and then slowly exhales. He reaches for it when she's done, but she keeps it, grinning as she blows smoke in his face. "You're going to have to give me a second on this one."
"All right," Jon answers. He leans away from her a little, giving her her space as she takes in another lungful of smoke.
They finish smoking before he finally turns back to her. Rachel reaches for her beer, grimacing when she tastes how warm it has gotten.
"Two seconds," Jon says, jumping up. He snatches up their bottles and sways around the couch. Rachel laughs at the way he seems to almost prance out of the room.
He returns with two cold beers and plunks them down on the table. Rachel leans forward and takes the bottle opener to them, snatching up hers.
"Okay," she says. "So I'm guessing you know about Susan."
Jon nods. "Or, I assumed, anyway. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to figure why you're here alone on a day like this. That and, well, you've been quiet lately..."
"Yeah." Rachel takes a breath. "And then, well, I kind of spilled my guts to Keith about it last night and that... That ended pretty badly."
"Did you have a fight?" He leans forward, lightly squeezing her knee. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's--oh, fuck, Jon, we had sex." She takes a long swig of her beer. Jon jerks away and does the same.
"That's... Unexpected."
"You're telling me." Rachel laughs, suddenly and hard. Jon watches her, waiting to see what happens.
"You want to know the worst part?"
"Sure."
"I couldn't even get off. I tried, I really did, especially the second time, but--"
She stops for a moment, checking Jon's face. He's not quite gaping, but she's not sure how to continue. She knows he's probably got the words "second time" on endless replay in his head.
Jon opens up the pizza box and rips off a piece of crust. "But?"
"I'm not even sure, really. It just seemed wrong, you know." She snorts. "Of all the things I've done, that's what finally got to me."
Jon chews almost philosophically. "Well, what else have you done?" He reaches into the box and pulls off a cheesy piece, offering it to Rachel. She leans closer, letting him place it on her tongue. She kicks off her shoes and curls her feet under legs, leaning away again. He snags up a full piece and leans after her, offering her another bite before shoving a large chunk into his own mouth.
"I don't know if I want--"
Someone knocks on the door. They both jump, shifting awkwardly on the couch.
The knock comes again.
"I guess I should..."
"Yeah, I guess so."
Words required: 36,674
Words achieved: 39,379
Words of today: 2,863
XXIII.
Rachel's stomach jumps into her chest. Stephen hasn't opened the door yet, but she sees the man through the glass and immediately backs up, breaking away from her companions.
"What's--" Stephen starts.
Rachel shakes her head and steps quickly back onto the sidewalk, not slowing her pace until she's made it halfway down the block.
"I can't go in there. I can't fucking go in there," she murmurs. She immediately takes to placing, her head ducked slightly, her left hand in her pocket and the fingers of her right strumming against her thigh.
"Ex-boyfriend?" Stephen jokes.
Rachel stares up at him, all of the color draining out of her face, and then Keith is at her side, draping his arm around her. He glares back at Stephen before turning his attention back to Rachel.
"Are you gonna be sick again?" he whispers. "We can go home."
Stephen frowns, circling around them. "You were sick earlier? You didn't tell me."
"Keith and I drank a little too much last night," Rachel mumbles, staring down at her shoes. "I should probably eat something, I just... Can we go somewhere else?"
"Of course," Stephen answers. "Let me just think for a second."
Rachel nods, carefully shrugging Keith off of her shoulders. She paces a slow, long, circle, then pulls out her phone. "I gotta check something really quick, okay?"
"Okay," Keith answers. Stephen nods vigorously, taking a step toward Keith as Rachel starts to walk away from them.
"What is going on?" he breathes. Keith shakes his head.
Rachel's shaking slightly as she approaches the door again. Her hands go to her collar, tugging at the hood of her sweatshirt, but she stops herself. That would just be stupid. She swings into the doorway, peeking through the glass.
Chris's back is to her, which is probably a blessing, really. Still, taking this second look, she's sure it's him. He's sitting with two men, and they seem to be talking quite animatedly about something. Ana's not there, though, not at the table any way. Rachel takes a slow breath and then turns back again, punching buttons on her BlackBerry.
Are you in New York?
A full minute passes without an answer. Rachel looks down the street and sees Keith and Stephen watching them. She waves them off and they both turn their eyes away.
When her phone finally buzzes, she steals one last look at the guys and sees that they're now talking about something, probably purposely trying not to look back. She takes a breath and starts running, tearing off in the other direction.
She doesn't stop until she's turned two corners and crossed a random street. Then, she looks down at the screen, holding her breath as she presses the unlock button.
why?
Rachel sighs and starts walking again, continuing down the street as she types out her reply. I just saw your husband eating at a restaurant in Manhattan.
yes
It's the least helpful text she's received in quite a while. Yes you're in NY or just yes he's in NY or what?
Two more blocks. She takes a right and crosses another street. Her phone starts to ring, but when she looks down at the screen, it's Keith's number. She takes a few seconds to decide to answer it.
"Hey."
"Where the hell are you?"
"I had to do something. Why don't you and Stephen get something to eat and--"
"That's... That's stupid, Rachel. Get your ass back over here and--ah."
"Keith?" Rachel's phone buzzes loudly against her ear and she jerks it away with a grunt, clearing the message. "What just happened."
"I see who you're avoiding. You don't have to run off, though, we can go all the way to Jersey for lunch if you want..."
"No... Look, I've got something I need to do, okay? I'll call you."
She hangs up before he can answer, opening her messages.
why?
"For fuck's sake..." Rachel opens up her contacts. Keith calls again, but she sends it to voicemail and then selects Red off of her list, waiting for the number to start dialing before she puts the phone to her ear.
"This is a really shitty time, okay?" Ana answers. "What do you want?"
Rachel has to catch her breath for a few seconds before she can speak again, and she can hear Ana's breathing, too, though hers is more irritated than terrified. Finally, she clears her throat.
"I thought you said you were done with New York."
Rachel hears something that almost sounds like a laugh. "It's a big city. I'm not going to avoid it for the rest of my life because of one stupid mistake."
"Stupid mistake?" Rachel breathes, her stomach finally dropping out of her chest.
"Several stupid mistakes, then. Look, do you want something, or...?"
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at bags." Rachel hears a shuffling noise and she knows Ana is switching the way she's holding her phone, probably pressing it between her shoulder and her cheek.
"So, you're nearby?"
"Nearby what?"
"Where are you?"
"Rachel, I'm not... I'm not doing this, not right now. Whatever the hell is going on with you, I'm sorry, but, well..."
Rachel's phone buzzes in her ear again. "Can you hold on just one second?"
Ana lets out a short, heavy sigh and Rachel switches over.
"Look, just stop." She hangs up just as she realizes it's Stephen this time. She doesn't really care. When she tries to switch over again, Ana's gone.
"Well, fuck."
Rachel takes a look around. She's coming up on the 49th Street station. She briefly considers just getting on the subway and letting it take her where ever she ends up. Instead, she steps out toward the street and flags down a passing cab. She really just wants to go home. It wouldn't be too bad of a walk, but she doesn't feel like taking the chance of being caught on the street.
XXIV.
She probably shouldn't start drinking again, not after the last couple of days and after how little she's eaten or kept down, but it's the only thing she can think to do. She sticks some bread into the toaster while she considers her alcohol, and the smell of cooking bread makes her think maybe she'll order some pizza later. The toast pops up, only half-done, really, and she snatches up the bourbon and an empty glass.
She's just settled in on the couch with her drink and her bread when her phone buzzes yet again. She almost doesn't bother with it, but then all the vaguest possibilities spring into her head, and so, she finally snatches it up.
Jon.
Rachel huffs and reads the message.
What's this I hear about a Maddow on the lam?
She actually smiles. Watch out. I'm working on pissing off everyone I know today. You could be next.
Rachel takes a long drink.
I'd be honored. You at your apartment?
She considers the message for just a second.
Yes. Come alone and I'll even feed you free pizza.
Pepperoni and mushroom?
Bad Jew.
And don't you forget it. Be there in about 20.
Rachel gets out her computer and looks up the number for her favorite local place. The man who answers is remarkably pleasant for a New Yorker, so Rachel adds an order of breadsticks to the pizza. She gets her total and a promise of 45 minutes or less and hangs up. Then, all she can do is wait. She flips through her messages again, vaguely amazed that neither Keith nor Stephen has tried to reach her again, but, then, they probably sent Jon after her, anyway.
She briefly considers trying Ana again, texting her at the very least, but she shakes her head and checks her e-mail instead, paging randomly through old messages until she hears a knock. Jon gets to her in less than 15 minutes, and Rachel doesn't ask about his speed. She just accepts the six pack out of his arms, stashing it in the refrigerator as she plucks them out a bottle each.
When she returns to the living room with the beers and a bottle opener, she finds Jon leaning over the coffee table with his weed and a box of rolling papers.
He smiles up at her. "I heard you were a little nauseated earlier and thought..."
Rachel laughs. "Is there anything they didn't tell you?"
"I'm sure there's a lot, actually." He frowns down at his hands. "You don't have a pipe, right?"
"Right. Sorry." She sits down beside him, popping open their bottles. ""Paraphernalia makes me paranoid."
"No, that's just the crap you've been smoking," Jon jokes. He takes a sip of his beer and then gets to work.
Rachel watches him tuck the green buds into the paper, pulling them apart and pressing them down with his fingers. When he's done, he rolls it all up and licks it sealed, passing it over to her as he hunts through his pockets for a lighter.
"This should help the pizza go down," he says as he flicks the zippo open. Rachel nods and then takes a drag, tasting a little trace of lighter fluid on the inhale.
She passes the joint to him. "I ordered breadsticks, too."
"Good work," he says with a smile.
They smoke in silence, passing the joint back and forth until Rachel has had more than enough. She leans back on the couch, idly watching Jon as he breathes out little puffs of smoke. When he's finished, he takes the butt into the kitchen, dousing it in the sink before tossing it into the trash.
He returns to the living room and Rachel remembers her beer, taking a small sip as he settles back down again.
"So," she says. "Tell me something funny."
Jon grins. "I can't think of a damn thing."
They're still laughing with the buzzer rings, and Rachel has a minor freak out over the fact that she swears there's still smoke hanging in the air, but Jon calms her down with a dramatic eye roll and she finally answers the door.
The delivery guy has probably delivered to a thousand stoners during his career and he doesn't even bat an eye, doesn't even smile, just hands Rachel two cardboard boxes and accepts her cash.
"You want to eat this in the kitchen?" she asks as she shuts the door. Jon stretches out his arms and legs and shakes his head.
"Hell no. Plus, I am not entirely sure I can move right now. You could stand to invest in a bigger couch, though, a bigger apartment, really, since that's actually the only way you could probably fit a bigger couch..."
Rachel drops the pizza box into his lap with a snort. "Stop complaining and eat."
"Okay, okay." He waits for her to sit down again before he finally sits up. He cracks open the box and immediately breaks into a wicked grin. "This is beautiful."
Rachel snorts. "Pass me a piece, and don't forget the sticks."
"Oh, there'll be plenty time for the sticks..." He flips the lid open all the way, gripping the side of the box to keep it from tipping over. Rachel stares at the mass of grease, momentarily entranced by the way the cheese stretches down from the slice he pulls out for her. She accepts the piece with both hands and immediately begins cursing when the hot cheese and sauce burns her hands.
Jon laughs. "Maybe we should have gotten plates?"
"Plates are for chumps," she answers, shoving the end of the slice into her mouth as the sauce starts to drip down. She curses again, grabbing her beer from the table as the cheese stings the roof of her mouth. Jon reaches out and takes her pizza from her, dropping it down on the box as she recovers.
"Maybe napkins would be good," she admits.
Jon takes a quick bite and then puts his slice down next to hers. "Just tell me where..."
"Nah, I got it."
Jon gives her two minutes and half a piece of pizza before he drags himself up off of the couch and slips into the tiny kitchen.
"Hey," he says, cocking his head at her. She's staring out the window toward the dimming afternoon sky. "Get lost?"
"Sorry," she answers, looking up at him. "I just started thinking, and..."
"It's okay. Happens to the best of us." He follows her eyes out to the blue. "I'm impressed that you can actually see the sky from your apartment."
Rachel smiles. "Just from here, and in my room, from the bed, I guess, if you lie at the right angle."
"That's nice."
Rachel laughs. "Yeah, nice."
"Come on," Jon says. "And grab some napkins. The pizza is probably actually cool enough for us to eat without hurting ourselves, now."
Two more slices and a breadstick fight later, Jon tosses a groaning Rachel's feet out of his lap and starts to roll another joint, pausing to grab a napkin and wipe the grease off of his fingers. Rachel leans up, dropping her head on his shoulder and watching him work.
"I used to know how to do that," she says.
Jon grins. "I'm sure you still do. It's like riding a bike, or something... You could try it if you wanted."
"No. I'm too full for manual dexterity right now. Go ahead."
"'Too full for...' I have to say, that's a new one in my book."
"It's a dangerous situation," Rachel protests. "What if I were in a car accident and had to get my seatbelt undone?"
"Well, I'd hope you'd be smarter than to drive on a third of a joint and six tons of pizza and breadsticks."
Rachel snorts. "I could be the passenger, you know."
"True, I suppose. Or you could walk."
"I usually walk."
"That explains a lot."
Rachel grins as Jon sticks the joint between her lips.
"So, tell me," he says once they've passed it back and forth a half a dozen times. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"
"Oh, so we're gonna be serious now?" she asks, stealing the joint back from him. She takes a long drag and then slowly exhales. He reaches for it when she's done, but she keeps it, grinning as she blows smoke in his face. "You're going to have to give me a second on this one."
"All right," Jon answers. He leans away from her a little, giving her her space as she takes in another lungful of smoke.
They finish smoking before he finally turns back to her. Rachel reaches for her beer, grimacing when she tastes how warm it has gotten.
"Two seconds," Jon says, jumping up. He snatches up their bottles and sways around the couch. Rachel laughs at the way he seems to almost prance out of the room.
He returns with two cold beers and plunks them down on the table. Rachel leans forward and takes the bottle opener to them, snatching up hers.
"Okay," she says. "So I'm guessing you know about Susan."
Jon nods. "Or, I assumed, anyway. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to figure why you're here alone on a day like this. That and, well, you've been quiet lately..."
"Yeah." Rachel takes a breath. "And then, well, I kind of spilled my guts to Keith about it last night and that... That ended pretty badly."
"Did you have a fight?" He leans forward, lightly squeezing her knee. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's--oh, fuck, Jon, we had sex." She takes a long swig of her beer. Jon jerks away and does the same.
"That's... Unexpected."
"You're telling me." Rachel laughs, suddenly and hard. Jon watches her, waiting to see what happens.
"You want to know the worst part?"
"Sure."
"I couldn't even get off. I tried, I really did, especially the second time, but--"
She stops for a moment, checking Jon's face. He's not quite gaping, but she's not sure how to continue. She knows he's probably got the words "second time" on endless replay in his head.
Jon opens up the pizza box and rips off a piece of crust. "But?"
"I'm not even sure, really. It just seemed wrong, you know." She snorts. "Of all the things I've done, that's what finally got to me."
Jon chews almost philosophically. "Well, what else have you done?" He reaches into the box and pulls off a cheesy piece, offering it to Rachel. She leans closer, letting him place it on her tongue. She kicks off her shoes and curls her feet under legs, leaning away again. He snags up a full piece and leans after her, offering her another bite before shoving a large chunk into his own mouth.
"I don't know if I want--"
Someone knocks on the door. They both jump, shifting awkwardly on the couch.
The knock comes again.
"I guess I should..."
"Yeah, I guess so."
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yay for pot being a good plot device though
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And, HOORAY DRUGS
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I can totally see that. Logical, logical Rachel. (Is paranoia ever logical? Yeah, I guess in this case it kind of is.)
She knows he's probably got the words "second time" on endless replay in his head.
It's good to know that even Jon, designated PRT problem solver, isn't immune to the WTFery of this situation. (And, man, I love Jon in this role so much, I love that Keith and Stephen sent him, and I love that he didn't show up empty-handed.)
And that knock on the door at the end. Hooboy. This can't be anything good.
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And, yeah, paraphernalia is a lot harder to get rid of quickly than the real drugs. I think she may have a "my dad found my bong" story from her youth, too.