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13 - trade mistakes

||Jamilla Tate|| First Person ||

        If there is one thing in life that I'm incredible at, it's probably making mistakes.

        It's the easiest thing for me to do-- it requires little to no effort for me to say the wrong thing, or wear the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing. I could lean forward, my heart still aching for a boy that doesn't care enough abut me, and lead Garrett on more than I ever should by allowing him my first kiss. Without knowing him for even a month, I pressed our lips together in a passionate kiss that I should have reserved for someone else, someone else that I truly love with all of my heart.

        It's not to say that I'm not attracted to Garrett, because really, have you seen the boy? I mostly feel guilty because I know fully well that he's interested in me in a way that I don't know if I can reciprocate. Instead, I'm so helplessly attracted to my next door neighbour, who might as well have given me the middle finger by simply making eye contact with me at the wrong moment. I know that Josh isn't normally like this-- he's kind and sweet and a little too attractive, but he's a good person. If he hadn't been as drunk as he was, I know he wouldn't have followed that girl up the stairs while I watched. I know he wouldn't have done that to me, because despite how much we pretend that there's nothing there, he must surely know that I have feelings for him.

        I made Garrett the rebound-- I kissed him and held him and told him that I wanted him all because Josh Dun made me feel absolutely ruined. I needed someone to preoccupy me from all matters of Josh Dun and his stupid grin and his stupid face and his stupid personality before I could do something even more stupider, like follow them or something. At least that's one mistake I neglected to make.

        When I wake up the next morning, it's to an insistent thump in my head that makes me wince in pain and groan in annoyance. I shift my head slightly, trying to get more comfortable as my neck feels unbelievably stiff, and then I recognize an arm wrapped around my waist, which loosens for a moment before regaining its grip around me again.

        My head still feels a bit murky, like I'm not completely sober yet, and it's a feeling that completely throws me off. I've never even tasted alcohol before tonight, much less got myself utterly smashed, and I suddenly think that this is one thing that my mother was right to keep me away from. I tilt my head up  when I feel a breath hit the top of my forehead, confused and scared and nervous.

        I freeze when I realize that the body sleeping beneath me belongs to Garrett Mason, his shirt half unbuttoned but his pants-- thankfully-- very much on. I'm terrified within that split second that I did the most vulnerable thing I could while drunk-- I gave my virginity to Garrett Mason in a drunken stupor. Then I see that my clothes-- or better yet, my Black Widow costume-- are still on my body, save for the fact that I'm showing more cleavage than I'd like.

        I pry his arms away from my body and sit up in bed, nursing the ache in my head as Garrett rolls over on his side, looking the part of the gorgeous art student as he glances up at me through lidded eyes. He groans in a deep voice, a sound that would make me seize up if only I'd never met Josh Dun back in August. "How you feeling?" He asks in a considerable, low voice, blowing out a sigh.

        "D...did we--?" Is all I can manage before growing more anxious, my emotions getting the best of me. If the answer is yes, that I did give myself to Garrett in my lapse of proper judgement... "Garrett..."

        "No," he answers me softly, sitting up in his bed and running a lazy hand through his hair. "You were drinking too much and I found you half-passed out by the sink around three." His eyes are soft and caring, and I know then that I can trust him. I sigh at the mention of that distinct memory, flushing with regret and embarrassment all at once. "I got us a taxi and didn't know where in Park-Stradley to go so I brought you here to sleep it off." I smile gratefully at him, glad that I've met a boy as thoughtful as him. If it were anyone else...

        "Thank you," I say in a quiet voice, twiddling my thumbs nervously in the way that I see him doing whenever he's nervous. He watches me for a moment, a small smile curling his lips upwards. I gesture to his shirt next, unsure of why most of it is unbuttoned. He looks down and laughs, throwing his head back on the pillow.

        "You made me put on music and you tried getting naked-- I had to stop you." He says in between bouts of laughter, clearly recalling the moment as amusing. I bury my face in my hands when I can picture myself trying to get out of my costume in his room while we were both very wasted. "Did you know that it was Britney Spears --"

        "God," I wail in embarrassment, throwing myself back on the bed in a fit but immediately regretting it when my head starts to hammer heavier than the first few times. Garrett rolls out of bed, still laughing I might add, and crosses the room with purpose, crouching by his mini fridge and rummaging through it before grabbing a bottle of water and the aspirin packet on top of the table next to it.

        "Take this," he tells me, passing me the pill and the bottle. "After, you can tell me if you want to stay or go back." I do want to stay, mostly because I like the way that his attention is still focused on me, but I know that I have to go back and make an appearance at Park-Stradley in case my friends think that I've been murdered last night. I must have left without telling anyone-- without going upstairs and interrupting Josh and Regina George's twin sister and telling him that I don't want a ride, without telling Tara and Scarlet and Becca that I was going home with Garrett... I just disappeared. I swallow the tablet with a large gulp of water and sigh, clutching the bottle in my hands tightly as I stare at the gorgeous boy in front of me.

        "You know that was my first kiss?" I say softly, fidgeting nervously in place as Garrett looks over at me. His eyes twinkle with a certain twinge of happiness in them, a small smile curving his lips upwards and exposing a dimple. He looks so unbelievably killer-- his white button up wrinkled, his tie on the floor, and his hair a mess. He doesn't speak for a moment before he leans forward and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

        "How about your second?" He smiles easily, and I giggle against his lips when he pulls me in for another kiss, feeling elated when he wraps his arms around my waist. "And your third... and your fourth..."

        "You're too much," I tell him with a breath of laughter when I finally roll off of him, getting to my feet. He was distracting me from leaving and I know that I have to. Garrett only grins cheekily at me and follows me to the door, in which I prepare to leave from.

        "Oh, hold on," he heads over to his closet and rummages through the shirts on the hangers, finally plucking a warm-looking sweater out and passing it to me. "It's cold and raining," he tells me. "Text me when you get back." He presses a kiss to my forehead before I reluctantly start my walk from Smith-Steeb residency hall to my own.

        He was right when he said that it's cold and raining-- I'm wrapping the sweater around my body tightly, partly to protect against the cold as I walk across campus and partly to cover up my figure that the costume still shows off. It's 8 am in the morning right about now, and despite the fact that most classes are running business as usual, the campus still seems dreary and empty, with most people skipping class in order to sleep off their hangovers.

        Mine hasn't completely set in yet, which is a blessing for me as I catch sight of my dorm hall only a couple of feet away. I quickly make the last few strides to get to the warmth of the residency hall, exhaling tiredly despite the very short walk. I hurry across the large lobby and jam the elevator button, waiting impatiently for one to be sent down to me. When the large doors part for me, I slip in and immediately hit my floor number. I want to get changed into my sweatpants and put my hair up and pretend like everything else is going to be perfect, but fate has other plans for me when I step onto my floor just as Josh steps out of his room with the Regina George-Playboy-bitch giggling.

        I stop in my tracks and lean away from her as she passes by, the blonde girl making eye contact with me for a split second. "Hi, Jamilla," she pronounces my name properly, and a giggle is still lingering on her lips as she walks by me. That's when I realize who it is-- it's the excitable blonde girl from English literature that sits at the front--Melodie? Melanoma? I didn't care enough to know. I turn my head and see Josh still standing there, his eyes wide and his neck flushed. I look away and duck away from him, going to my own door-- it's locked.

        "Jamilla," he says, but I'm too busy searching through the compartments of my supersuit to find my keys while actively trying to ignore him. I know that if I look at him, I'll forget about Garrett in a second-- Garrett, who protected me from other drunken college boys that could have easily taken advantage of me, Garrett, who covered me up and put me to sleep when Josh was upstairs with another girl. I avoid making eye contact-- those eyes bored into my own while he made out with Meningitis-what's-her-name. He made it clear enough by taking her back to his dorm. Poor Tyler probably had to stay out. "Jami," I find my keys and take it out, my hands shaking as I try to push it into the lock. Please shut up. "Jamilla, please!"
The keys slip from my grasp and fall to the floor with a faint jingle, and this overwhelming sense of helplessness overwhelms me because it's all my fault. If I hadn't left Josh alone to hang out with Garrett, he wouldn't have slept with the girl, right? "Hey, don't cry, please." His hands are around my wrists and I don't want him to touch me because those hands felt every curve and ridge of that girl's body. I sink to the ground, my back against the wall as Josh crouches in front of me apologetically. I don't look at his face.

        "Don't," I choke out, but he doesn't let go of me and I'm crying harder because in the span of one night, I've f*cked up whatever relationship I have with Josh Dun. "You looked at me..."

        "I was drunk, Jami..." He murmurs apologetically, but it's not enough to stop me from regretting everything. "Please, I hate seeing you like this."

        "And I hate seeing you making out with other girls," I choke out miserably.

        "I hate seeing you with Garrett." He rebuttals me honestly, and that makes me feel all the more responsible for the mess that was last night. I sob into the sleeves of Garrett's sweater, my chest heaving and my head pounding. My eyes are blurry and my voice is clipped as I speak.

        "Do you like her?" I ask him, expecting a truthful answer. Josh blinks and looks down at his feet, a frown twitching at his lips--the lips that made out with Malaria while he looked directly at me. "Please," I hiccup, trying to calm myself down from the onslaught of tears.

        "She's not you." He says. He meets my gaze and I don't want to breathe anymore because Josh Dun keeps ruining me, over and over again. My dad always told me to stay away from guys because they're nothing but trouble, and he was right. All I feel is pain and misery because Josh doesn't realize that I'm lost and scared of everything because I've fallen so in love with him. "She's not you, Jamilla." He repeats, and he's brushing his thumb against my cheek and I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. My heart is tightening with excitement because he thought of  me, but then logic is seeping in and telling me that he still touched her, he still held her, he still did everything with her.

        "But you slept with her."

        "But I slept with her." He agrees, his eyebrows furrowed and his beautiful smile never to be seen. "And I wish I could take it back."

        "I just want to pretend like last night didn't happen." I tell him, and be nods his head in understanding as I wipe my tears from my cheeks, trying to calm my hiccups and my heavy breathing.

        "I messed up, didn't I?" Josh says sadly, and I nod my head in agreement.

        "We both did." I say, and we sit there for a moment, no words exchanged as we stoke in the emptiness of the hallway. Josh is still staring at me with sadness in his eyes, and I wish that I really could forget that he brought another girl from the party back to his dorm room. He had her on his bed, the bed in which I almost fell asleep on on numerous occasions, the bed where we marathoned Harry Potter movies together.

        And then there's me-- I practically undressed myself in the solitude of Garrett's bedroom, dancing in front of him while drunk off my ass and trying to do God knows what. He stopped me, he stopped me, he stopped me. I'm glad that he did, because I'd feel the exact same way that Josh did right about now-- remorseful. If it had been anyone else... 

        "I think... We need space." I tell him. "I need to distance myself... I don't think straight around you." Josh looks at me sadly, his bottom lip trembling so harshly that he has to bite down on it. I avoid making eye contact with him, feeling sick.

        "I wish you'd yell." He says tiredly.

        "I just want to cry, so I'm sorry to disappoint." I rub my face with my hands, and no one says anything until a door is opening to our left and Scarlet is stepping out, her face exhausted with the aftermath of the party, but still so concerned about me,

       "Jami," she says in a soft voice, and then she's leaning next to me and pulling me up to my feet, holding me to her side. I fidget with my keys in my shaking fingers, trying not to cry again in front of him. "It's okay, Jami, don't cry." She turns her attention to Josh, who only nods solemnly and looks down at his feet, guilt written all over his face. "He doesn't deserve your tears."

       "Take care of her," he says pleadingly, and Scarlet stares him down viciously before nodding her head.

        "Change your goddamn bedding, asshole." She tells him, before turning me away from him and leading me back to her dorm room.

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