||[Mar. 31st, 2005|09:49 pm]
|||||Shimmy Shimmy Quater Turn - Hellogoodbye||]|
Title: Got Dizzy Dancing The Tango Pt 9 Edited and elongated
Pairing: Jesse Lacey [Brand New] / Adam Lazzara [TBS]
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: “Jesse Lacey, you are the only fag I know who can’t dance and or wiggle his hips.”
Notes: The first bit is kind of like the part of the other one... Yeah...
“Come on, Jesse, usually you can do this. Now, try again.”
I clench my jaw but nod, and wait as he restarts the song. I get myself back into position, glancing over at him stood by the wall, beginning to take my first steps. Left forward, right, swap, spin, left forward…
“Okay, now. Onetwothree, onetwothree, onetwo- no, Jesse, it’s on the one, not the three!”
I begin to glare at him, and he must’ve noticed as he quickly changed the CD. “Okay, how about we dance together instead of solo?”
I just shrug at him; usually I’d grin and pull him to me, and he must’ve realised this too, because he missed a beat in the beginning, but quickly made up for it.
When Adam approached me, my first thought was to move away from him: I could still smell the other boy’s sweat on him. Our arms are stiff around each other’s bodies, like we don’t actually want to touch each other, and every time Adam turned away from me, I reached out on autopilot of the dance, but actually made no attempt to catch him, allowing him to slip away.
I didn’t straighten my legs out properly and our knees knocked together, making Adam stumble slightly, as he’d been walking backwards. He just shrugged and smiled slightly, telling me it was no trouble.
But, when I let his hand slip out of mine as he was spinning outwards, causing him to fall face first onto the floor, I knew that he wouldn’t shrug it off.
You know that feeling you get when you know that you’ve done something wrong and that you’re going to get into trouble for it? This is like that, just in motion.
Adam’s back is moving with his panting, but I don’t say a word; I just stand there and flex my fingers, watching him. I can sense his anger growing and growing with every second he’s on the floor, but then, suddenly, he’s flipped onto his back, and then he’s standing up and shouting at me.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you let go like that? Huh?” His eyes are black, like they are when he’s turned on, but this is different, somehow; his eyes are burning through mine, but freezing me at the same time.
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have let you fall if you hadn’t criticised me so much!” I put on a falsetto voice, “’Oh, no, Jesse, not like that. Nonono! Like this! No, Jesse, wrong!’”
He flicks his hair out of his eyes with an eccentric hand movement. “I wouldn’t have to correct you if you were doing it right! I’m just doing my job. What’re you doing? Wasting my time.”
I snort [something which I’ve got to stop doing]. “Oh, sorry; I forgot. You could be fucking that little piece of ass that was here earlier.”
His mouth forms an ‘o’ of shock. “Jesse, dancing is my job. I don’t know if you noticed, but that includes getting close to people.”
I gave a shout of laughter. “You’re just far too cute, or whatever he said. Tell me, Adam, do you sleep with everyone you teach?” I raise my eyebrows slightly, crossing my arms and watched as my words sank in.
An angry flush came over his cheekbones, highlighting his livid eyes, but he didn’t say anything. I was ashamed of my words the second they left my mouth, but I’m too stubborn to apologise.
The CD stops, and the silence which follows makes my words seem to echo around us. I was waiting for some sort of explosion, but instead he simply whispered, “Hijo de puta.”
Personally, I think that if he’d shouted at me, I’d feel much better about myself, because then it wouldn’t have been just be me acting immature.
We continued to stare at each other; his watch began to beep after a while but his eyes never left mine. “Oh, it’s the end of the lesson. Goodbye, Jesse.” He said emotionlessly.
I didn’t bother to respond [I didn’t know what to say], so I just turned on my heel and left.
I’m sat in my shitty apartment, on my second-hand sofa with its brownish stains [of I-don’t-actually-want-to-know] staring at the off-white colour of the wall in front of me. Yes, this is the second of the ‘Jesse Stages’; One: fuck everything up, Two: feel sorry for self.
And, soon enough, my hand is creeping towards the telephone to complete step Three: phone John to go and get wrecked.
He picks up on the second ring. “H-hello?” he sniffles into the mouthpiece, and I pause, realising what this must mean. “Hello?” he asks again.
“John? Get dressed then come over; we’re going out.” I tell him straight away.
There’s a sniff and a sigh from over the line, and I can picture him pushing his glasses back up his nose. “’Kay.”
I hang up and get ready to go out, knowing John will arrive in about half an hour, looking his best and ready to break down. I should really shower, but there’s no point: if I pick anyone up, they’ll only be for one night.
Majority of the night, John and I will just be yelling over tasteless music to try and hear each other whilst downing as many beers as we can to block out whatever it is dogging our heels [yet at the same time, this makes us talk about whatever problems we’re having, and we feel better... till morning.]
…So, yeah. I just change my shirt and lounge about on my sofa, waiting for John to turn up. He does, quicker than I anticipated, and I quickly let him in, watching him scurry past me, head bowed, trying to hide his reddened eyes.
I just sigh, following him into the kitchen and wait for him to finish making himself a coffee. I know he’s just stalling for time: he knows this too. Once there’s some alcohol in both of us, we’ll be able to talk about our problems.
He seems to change his mind, dropping the teaspoon back into the coffee pot before turning around to face me, leaning against the counter.
“Are you good to go? I just want to go and drink myself into a stupor already.”
I’m quite taken aback by this; you see, John usually waits around and has at least two cups of coffee, preplanning how he’ll later tell me whatever is on his mind. So, I just shrug. “Sure.” I tell him, grabbing my wallet and keys.
He drives us to wherever we’re going, and I just sit in silence, staring at the dashboard. Something’s wrong, probably between him and Vinnie, but they were fine the other day. What could have happened?
Well, come to think about it, Adam and I were fine yesterday, and now look at us. I make a grunting noise in the back of my throat, and I feel John glance at me.
“We’re almost there. It’s just some charity Latino night, you know. You can show me what I’ve been paying for, and support a good cause.” He tells me, face turned slightly towards me as he keeps his eyes on the road.
I look over at him, bringing my hand up to my mouth out of habit. “So, uh.” [Come on, Jess. You can manage subtle] “What’s up with you and Vinnie?”
He frowns and shifts in his seat like he does when he’s anxious or hasn’t thought something out before saying it. Well, he has two choices; one: lie and say nothing, whilst knowing that I won’t believe him and that I’d find out later, anyway, or two: [obviously] telling me now and getting it over and done with, saving himself a hangover in the morning.
He screws his face up in an unbecoming way [he’ll get wrinkles…] and I can tell he’s forming the word ‘nothing’, so I cut in.
“If you never say it, it won’t get said, obviously. Or I’ll find out later, anyway.”
His shoulders slump slightly and he nods, clearing his throat slightly. “Uh. He wanted to spend today with Garrett and have a night in with ‘the boys’. So, I asked if I could come, and he said no…”
I sit up a bit straighter. “John, he’s not going to get it on with Garrett or anything…” [Me = Having nightmares about Garrett and Vinnie. Gag.]
He sighed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “It’s not that… I guess I’m just not used to not being classed as one of the boys, so I kind of… freaked. You know?”
“At the risk of sounding cliché,” I say, staring at his profile, “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. So, open your eyes, get over your problems, but keep a hold of him. Vinnie’s a good person.” […Even if he does have commitment phobias.]
He just nods, clenching his jaw and shifting in his seat again, and I know that that’s the signal that the conversation had closed, so I went back to staring at the dashboard, thinking over what I’d just said. [I’m such a fucking hypocrite.]
He pulls up outside a tall, red bricked building and I look around, getting a sinking feeling inside of me. This is where Adam had brought me on our first date. I stare up at it for a second before I notice John standing by my door, frowning.
“You okay, man?” He asks, placing one hand on top of the open door and leaning against the car.
I could almost laugh; his eyes are still red-rimmed and bloodshot, but he’s asking me if I’m alright. I just nod in reply and get out of the car, following him into the building.
Tonight, there’s a bit of a queue for the club, so we stand for a minute, not talking and waiting patiently. When we step forward at the front of the line, we’re told by the wide-eyed doorman to wait for a minute. I can see John getting anxious, as he fidgets beside me, so I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder as we waited for the doorman to come back.
I start to glance about, looking off to the side, where I knew there was a door around the corner which led to the restaurant. I’m suddenly acquainted with John’s elbow as it rams itself repeatedly into my ribs.
“Jesus, Jess! What did you do to upset the Mafia?!” he hisses urgently into my ear. I whip my head about to see Eddie headed for us, a determined look on his face. [Oh god, this is it. I’m going to get whacked. I shouldn’t have worn this shirt, it’s my favorite. Dear Lord, if you’re up there…]
Eddie pulls me to him, and once again I’m being suffocated against his chest with a sense of deja vu, only to be pushed away, then shaken. “Ah, Jeh-sse! So good to see you again! I see you bring friend, eh?”
John looks completely perplexed, but I motion towards him. “It’s good to see you, too, Eddie. This is John, my best friend.”
John smiles timidly and holds his hand out, but is soon asphyxiating, sending me a worried glance over one huge shoulder, trying to [not-too-subtly] pull away [from the sweat patches].
“Good to meet you, Jeh-on.” He said, releasing him to stumble backwards and push him glasses up the bridge of his nose, nodding hurriedly in fear of being ‘hugged’ again.
Eddie, though, turns to me. “Ah-dah-m dance already with Ah-lex, so eet ees busy, but I get you table next to dance floor, yes?”
I don’t really understand what he just said, so I nod in agreement and allow myself and a bewildered looking John to be steered into the club and to a table, drinks immediately pressed into our hands. John and I smile uneasily at each other, but we settle into our seats and begin to watch the show.
The dancers moved towards each other, looking like prowling cats on the hunt, the way they moved their bodies slyly to the beat. The languid movements were enough to make you wish you could move like they were; to make you wish you had that kind of emotion in your body; that you could be them. Dark eyes flashed desire, and I couldn’t help but lean forward to watch the couple on the dance floor, becoming entranced by the sensual movements, every little movement made, just like everyone else.
Long, sandy hair is flicked out of darkened eyes, and now I realise what Eddie had said. That’s Adam, out there. Adam baring himself [not that way…] to the crowds, through his movements. With another person.
The waiter, no less.
“Hey, Jess, isn’t that your boyfriend?” John asks, not taking his eyes off the couple as he leans towards me across the table, so that I could hear him properly.
That’s when Adam looks at me.
It happens in a few split seconds, which is enough to leave me wanting more. My breath catches in my throat and I sit up a little straighter, but he simply clenches his jaw, and looks back at the person he’s dancing with. After a second he frowns a little at them and gives a tiny shake of the head, as if to say ‘it doesn’t matter’. No one else noticed it, I don’t think, but I did. And, that’s what counts.
This is the time for me to make things up to him.
Jesse Lacey must not fuck this up; Jesse Lacey is determined not to fuck this up.
Okay, me = very ill. Again, haha. So, yeah, I finally finished re-writing this chapter, and now I'm happier with it, so I can get on with the Last Chapter. Read and please please please review. Proper reviews would be appreciated, too. <3