air from the passing trains just reminded me of how out of breath I had been while Jack had me against the wall. He took my breath away, the cliché brought to life.
Who the hell was the gal at the door? Not knowing made me want to scream.
She looked like a high-class escort, to be honest. If she was, she probably made a hell of a lot more money than I did. Being realistic on my end made hating her specifically difficult because maybe she was just doing her job, trying to make a living in a very expensive city, not unlike me.
But Jack? That was a different story. Was she the paid entertainment for the evening? Maybe he had set it up before meeting me at the party and just forgot.
Asshole. He got a surprise too, I guess. She didn't seem happy about seeing me.
The rumble of another train rushed by and totally changed the direction of my thoughts, smashing into them like a battering ram. The voice of reason was creeping in...
Maybe it was all just a misinterpretation. She could have been his sister, his ex, a neighbor. Just because she was a girl didn't mean he had to be sleeping with her. Even if he had slept with her in the past, why did it matter? As long as people were faithful in the present, it was good enough for me. It's not like I could wander around in the present and just make unpleasant events from the past disappear. No, I still wasn't a magician.
Oh yeah, and work and the recording deal and Sam and Jack and...
Honestly, Effie. You don't know a damn thing!
It was all so stupid, yeah. I couldn't get involved with this guy, could I? Jack turned heads when he entered the room. He could have any woman he wanted, including me. Well, not if I didn't let him. Was saying no the only weapon I had? Was that even the outcome I wanted?
Lost in my head, I pictured myself at a fancy bar with him, the night going great. And then I went to bathroom, and in my absence, he began flirting with the girls who had approached him. Numbers were exchanged and then BAM, I was back and he was acting like The Best Guy in the World. I groaned loudly—several people looked at me as I did.
"Sorry," I said meekly. No one seemed to care about my apology. At the very least, the awkward moment served to bring me back to reality.
After noticing several smiling couples around me, I realized that I was probably the most pessimistic person in all of NYC. I was assuming the worst—and it wasn't making things any easier. In fact, it was making things much harder.
Breathe, I told myself. It helped. I got on the train and headed home, trying to wipe my mind clean at least for a couple of minutes. I considered going back, but realized that I had no business taunting myself with any additional uncertainty.
It wasn't long before I was at my own doorstep, the comfort like a rush of hot air. I got back before Jesse did, my potential sleepover ending before it even started. Honestly, I was glad not to have to face him as I walked in. He hadn't texted me or anything, so he probably just knew what had happened. It made me feel dumb. I didn't want to be some groupie, desperately begging for scraps from some rock 'n' roll hero.
But something definitely felt different about Jack...
***
After a quick shower—it was both a mental and physical cleaning—I jumped into bed with my laptop and Netflix, cruising the selection for something that would take my mind off the entirely weird night. I put on some stupid horror movie and tried to zone out. I eventually shut off my phone, paranoid that somehow Jack would magically get my number and text me. If he did, I didn't want to know tonight.
About twenty minutes into the movie, I heard Jesse come in. "Effie?" he called from the kitchen. I got a little worried that he was trying to take advantage of my assumed absence and have loud sex with Laura—I was pretty sure I couldn't handle that tonight; sorry, Jesse—but I didn't hear any other voices. And then I realized he probably just noticed the light in my room and wanted to say hi.
I paused the stupid movie, even though I wouldn't have missed anything important had I just