||Jamilla Tate|| First Person ||

        "What did I say, Laura? What did I say?"

        "Keep it down, Kat, you're going to wake them."

        "Look at them!" Aunt Kat's voice rings loudly, despite the fact that she's trying to keep her voice down to a whisper as per her sister's request. "What did I tell you?"

        "Kat!" Mrs. Dun hisses still.

        "MOM! I WANT TO OPEN THE PRESENTS ALREADY!" This next voice belongs to the twelve year old Jordan Dun, but despite how loud his yell is, I can tell that he's shouting from a different room. Nevertheless, it's enough for Josh's chest to shift beneath me as he moves slightly. His arm goes to tighten around my frame, his forearm pulling me closer to him almost instinctively.

         "Jordan!" Mrs. Dun yells contradictorily, prepared to scold her son. "What did I tell you about using your indoor voice?" I hear the sound of her retreat, her slippers making a squelching noise against the hardwood flooring with every step she takes leading out of the kitchen. I feel Josh's hand lightly rub my upper arm as he moves again, pulling me with him.

        "Jami," he whispers softly, "hey, Jami, wake up."

         "I'm so tired," I yawn sleepily, turning my head and burying it back against his shirt.

         "Well!" Aunt Kat claps her hands together loudly, startling us and subsequently causing the both of us to look over at her. She stands next to the breakfast bar, changed out of her pajamas despite how obviously early it is. She sports a giant, charismatic grin along with a nice blue blouse and a black skirt. "I'll be with the kids if you two could... sort yourselves out." She turns away then, quickly rushing out of the kitchen without sparing another word to us. I stare at the place where she stood a literal second ago, eyes heavy and my head feeling slightly foggy.

         I slump back against Josh's chest, groaning in annoyance because of how my sore body responds to movement. "Did we really have to sleep on the floor?" I ask him rhetorically, nuzzling my head against him.

        "You didn't want to be alone," Josh mumbles in reply anyways, his hand trailing to rest on my abdomen. He rubs my lower stomach in smooth circles-- I snuggle up closer to him in response. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" He whispers under his breath. I'm not quite sure if I was supposed to hear it or not. "Because if so, I like this dream."

        "I hope not," I answer him still. "Because if you are dreaming, I'll punch you." Josh snorts then, hanging his head and burying his face against my neck.

        "Got it." He says with a charming smile.

_____

         The rest of the winter break passes by unfortunately in a blur of Josh's family and an unprecedented sense of fleeting happiness. As the days dragged forward and we rang in the new year with the Duns, I couldn't help but remember the daunting letter tucked safely away in my dorm room's drawer back at Ohio State.

         I was going home this month.

         My plans had been foiled-- I was supposed to have found a job and made enough money to sustain myself for the rest of my four years at this school. I was supposed to rent an apartment with my dorm mates and support myself as far away from my parents as possible. I wasn't supposed to have to rely on them, and I wasn't supposed to have to see them again. I would have been free.

           But I didn't. I didn't get a job, I didn't make money, and as it is, I probably only have enough money left in my bank account to get back on a train to Cleveland, where I would live until my imminent death. I was going to return to a bedroom filled with terrible memories of a time that I wished would stay long behind me, and subsequently to a house where animosity was bred in every crevice, nook, and cranny. I was going to leave behind my  friends, and Becca would have to get a new roommate.

          All of these things I could survive, no contest, which is precisely why Joshua William Dun is not on my list.

        "Okay, so I know that we just came back from Christmas break and everything," Scarlet says idly as she lounges on my bed, looking over at Tara, who is sitting in Becca's desk chair, and Becca, who is laying on her bed with her phone in hand. "But this new semester is home to Spring Break. We need to go somewhere fun, like Miami." She rolls over onto her back, holding her hands out above her head with her palms facing the ceiling. She examines her nails.

        "Miami?" Tara scoffs in response, pulling her feet up underneath her. "Why not L.A?"

        "Miami is where the Spring Breakers always go, isn't it?" Becca shrugs her shoulders. "I like that idea."

         "I don't know, Bec," Tara says slowly. "It'll be too... hectic." She spins herself in a smooth circle in Becca's swivel chair, her sock-covered feet gently skimming against the fuzzy carpet.

         "What do you think, Jami?" Scarlet asks, hoping to include me in on the conversation that I've zoned out from entirely. "Miami or L.A?" She looks at me expectantly, waiting calmly for an answer to a question that I know won't apply to me.

        "Not sure," I answer her vaguely. "Whatever you guys like."

        "This is a collaborative discussion, Jamilla." Tara states with a goofy smile. "We need your input."

        "We'll cross that bridge when we get there." I reply, pushing a hanger aside in my closet. I'd have to start packing soon considering that the semester is officially ending in the next week, but I didn't want anyone to have to know until the day of. If they saw me packing up my clothes, they would know all about my plans and everything would be a thousand times harder for me. I know that they would try and make me change my mind, but there's nothing they can do about my current situation. It's either listen to my parents and receive the financial support I'm so desperately in need of at this time, or stay in Columbus where I have maybe six dollars left to my name. It was a no brainer-- I would go home to Cleveland, attend community college, and do my best to keep in touch with the friends I've made in my time here. 

         That's all I could hope to do at this point.

         "Unless you plan on going somewhere with Josh again, hm?" Scarlet muses scandalously, her intonation filled with prying interest. "You haven't told us how it went at his house!" She adds, her eyes sparkling as she stares up at me. Immediately, I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I turn my face away from them, hoping nobody would notice the fiery red blush flushing my face.

         "It was..." I trail off then, remembering the past two weeks spent with Josh at his family house.

       A few days after Christmas, Josh managed to convince me to go ice skating with him, despite the fact that I could barely walk as it is without tripping over myself on concrete. Halfway through our seventh lap around the rink, he tried to slowly bring me away from the safety of the barriers. In response, I slowly lowered myself to a crouch before falling on my butt, refusing to stand up as Josh laughed ceaselessly. Eventually, he managed to convince me to get back up to  my feet, which balanced precariously on practically two knives, before helping me head back to the barriers(where we later exited the rink and did not return for the rest of the night).

         I try not to remember New Year's as well. Josh and I went to a party that one of his old high school friends had been throwing and stayed with each other throughout the night. I think that was mostly because of what happened the last time we went to a party, the disastrous outcomes something neither of us wanted to live through once again. Instead, we drank copious amounts of alcohol together and danced to shitty pop songs that vibrated through the walls, stupid laughter bubbling from the pit of our stomachs as we rang in the New Year together. I try not to remember how insane it felt when we had gotten a little too drunk and excited, Josh's hand in my own as he led me away from everything else and up the stairs. I try not to remember falling back on a bed that didn't belong to either of us, Josh laughing beautifully as he nuzzled his face into my neck and let his fingers trace the shape of my curves. I try not to remember holding him to me, giddy with excitement as he kissed me over and over again.

        My hands drop to my sides as I sigh, clutching the hanger in my hands tightly as I stare at the carpet dazedly. "I mean," I trail off again, unsure of what to tell the girls. 

           "Oh. My. God." Tara says, shifting in her chair almost immediately so she can balance on her knees.

           "Something happened, didn't it?" Becca inquires next, grinning excitedly as she waits for someone to elaborate further.

           "When were you going to say anything?" Scarlet cries out in disbelief, diving off of my bed and rushing over to me almost immediately. She yanks the clothing hanger from my hands and tosses it away from me precariously. She stares at me in wonder and distrust, reading my expression that practically screams lovesick teenager. "Did you guys...?" Scarlet prods, her eyes bright.

        "Scarlet!" I swat at her arm immediately, my face burning insanely.

         "I can't believe our little Jamilla is all grown up!" Scarlet cries out anyways, letting go of me and instead turning around to address the other girls. "Hear that? This marks a special occasion--"

        "We didn't--"

         "Yeah, right," Scarlet scoffs at me, looking back over at me with a knowing gaze. "I always knew you two were perfect for each other." As if a switch had been flipped within me, I suddenly can't help the sinking feeling that envelopes me as I turn back around, staring at me closet space once more.

         Josh isn't on my list of things I would eventually get over simply because he's the last person I'd ever want to pretend never happened. I like him more than I really should, with his stupidly boyish grin and his adorable, squinting eyes that I noticed the first day that I came to this school. I made the mistake of allowing myself to fall horribly for him, and in turn, I set myself up for an inevitable dose of disappointment. I should have been used to reality-- it always seems to find a way to f*ck everything up.

         The girls continue to talk about Josh and I in excited squeals, looking over at me for confirmation of little things that I picked up on a long time ago("His eyes! They practically twinkle, Jamilla, oh my gosh!"). I cross my arms over my chest as I listen to them, trying not to think too much about boarding a train back to Cleveland. Would Josh be willing to keep in touch with me, especially after New Years? Should I have done everything differently that night? Would he still be willing to keep whatever it is that we have alive? Would he be willing to keep me?

         These thoughts plague me late into the night. While everyone else sleeps peacefully in bed without any disruptions keeping them wide awake, I sit by myself in my favourite chair in the lounge area. The lounge is a large, spacious room furnished with an array of couches and tables, all interior decor implemented to make the place feel as much like home as our own dorm rooms. Every once in a while, the elevator would ding obnoxiously as another person boarded the lift or left it. After the eighth or so time, I plug my earphones in and burrow myself deeper into my blanket.

           Should I tell Josh that I'm leaving, or should I just go? Should I do what I'm best at in life-- disappearing with no regard for anyone my actions would hurt? It seems like the easiest option for me. In fact, it sounds like the most plausible. I would leave early in the morning with no note. Nobody would try and make it harder for me. I would just disappear.

        Just like in August.

        "You have a bed, Jami."

        I only open my eyes when someone ghosts their finger against my cheek, startling me out of that in-between place that holds onto you before sleep wins. Josh, who is crouching in front of my chair with a look of concern warping his features, pulls his hand away from me immediately. Worry doesn't suit him-- I immediately feel guilty in return.

         "I know," I answer him, burying myself further underneath my blanket. "It's just a bad night for me." Josh nods in understanding then, his hand going to rest on top of my knee. He stares at me for a moment, dissecting my emotions in an attempt to prepare himself for whatever came next. Josh rubs my leg lightly, his eyes focusing on my own after my gaze kept fleeting to look at anything other than him.

         "You want to tell me what's keeping you up?" He asks me. When I shake my head, he looks down in disappointment.

         "I'm sorry," I whisper sadly. He frowns then, pushing himself back up to his feet.

         "Don't apologize," Josh tells me, "I'm just worried." I should tell him then that he doesn't need to feel concerned, like the good almost-girlfriend that I was supposed to be, but something stops me from speaking. Josh notices my internal conflict, resting the palms of his hands on either side of the armrests of my chair. He leans over me, his eyes filled with an uncharacteristic sort of sadness as he plants a soft kiss to my lips. It ends almost as quickly as it starts, but that doesn't stop me from fidgeting almost immediately. Why did it feel different?

         "Do that again?" I ask him, and he smiles in relief before pressing his lips to my own again, lingering for just a moment before pulling away. When that familiar buzz finally washes over me, I smile happily at him. It had just been me overthinking it.

         "I think--" Josh muses as he brushes strands of my hair that went astray away from my cheeks, "I think that you're absolutely incredible, Jamilla." I wince when he says that, but he doesn't say anything of it. If only he knew what lengths I'd go to, all in the nature of disappearing from my life when it got too difficult for me to handle.

          "Josh," I exhale. I didn't feel like I needed to disappear now though, not when he acted this way around me. 

          "I'm happy you're here." He smiles at me, completely unexpectant of what I would do to him in the next week. I try my best not to break down, right then and there. I was going to ruin him, but I wasn't going to stop. Not now, not ever.