Pizza Night with Jenna (fan fic)

I was sprawled out on the couch when Jenna came in carrying a pizza box and a bottle of wine. I prefer beer with my pepperoni pie but Jenna has gotten all shmancy pants in her old age and favors a bottle of red.

She looked good, like she always does, dressed in tight jeans and a red tank. Her long brown hair is so dark it’s almost black, just like the color of her big doe eyes, and standing at five foot three (nearly a foot shorter than me), she’s innocent and tiny looking. People tend to misread her pretty face and petite stature for the sweetheart that she’s not. I mean she is, or can be, but she’s also a spit fire, a real scrapper. I’ve seen her take on girls twice her size without even breaking a fingernail, and she certainly isn’t afraid to call me on my shit.

That’s what attracted me to her all of those fucking years ago when we were just fifteen. I mean yeah I thought she was hot, all of the boys did, but hot girls never held my interest for long. Jenna on the other hand, the way she called me out on my pick up lines and didn’t get all giggly and shit? Yeah, that had me going back for more. We dated off and on for the next three years of high school. We were Mr. and Mrs. Popularity, the prom king and queen and all of that bullshit, but we were also one of those couples that were known for our legendary fighting. We broke up every other week. Jenna was jealous and high maintenance, I usually put my friends above her and wasn’t the most faithful of boyfriends to say the least.

We broke up for good when I enlisted. She wanted to get married before I left and I sure as hell didn’t. She wrote once in awhile at first, but ended up getting serious with Richie Dorfman and the letters stopped coming. Just as well. I ran into her from time to time when I was on leave and was really happy for her when she and Richie got engaged, and that was pretty much the extent of our relationship for countless years.

When I was discharged I was in a bad place, but once I started coming around again our friendship slowly rekindled. She eventually broke off her engagement with Richie, and one night we added benefits to our friendship status. I made it clear from the get that I wasn’t looking to start over. I wasn’t looking for a girl friend, or a committed relationship and I sure as hell wasn’t looking to get married and have kids. She said she was cool with that, and seven years later she says she still is. The problem though, I wasn’t lying, and no matter how much she and I try to pretend otherwise, deep down we both know she is.

“Were you fucking sleeping Nicky?” She asks as she sets the pizza box on the coffee table. She’s the only one who calls me that besides my family. Actually, I’ve known her so long she practically is family. I said practically. I’m from South Boston, not the back woods of the south.

“No.” I lie as I stand and raise my arms above my head to stretch and yawn loudly.

“Liar.” she laughs and shakes her head as I follow her into the galley.

We get together every few weeks just to hang out even though we see each other at McFadden’s more often than not. Sometimes we go out to eat or go to a movie, but mostly we just hang at my place. Jenna still lives at home with her ma and divorced sister and kids, and since the night usually ends with sex, we pretty much wind up here anyway.

Jenna opened the drawer to extract the corkscrew while I pulled down a couple of plate from the cabinet.

“So, how was Maryland?” she asks as she begins the task of removing the cork from her wine.  “And Ty?”

“Good,” I answer, not really knowing how to elaborate because of my epiphany and all.

“Good?”She looks over her shoulder at me, stopping her cranking in mid motion. “That’s it? No crazy stories like you usually come home with after the two of you get together?”

“Ah…no, not really.” I answer as a collect a stack of napkins. “He’s in a serious relationship now.”

“Shut up!” she swats in my direction. “I’ve only met him that once, and man he was a charmer, but I feel like I know him so well through you and…wow…I never would have seen that coming. I thought he’d be, like, one of those bachelors for life.  Like George Clooney and you.” She gives me a wink as she returns to her uncorking duties.

“Yeah,” I shrug, “People change. Especially when you meet the right person I guess.”

“Hmm.”  She ponders a moment as she pours herself a glass, “So, what’s she like?”

“Who?” I ask, then give myself a mental face palm when I realize she means Ty’s ‘girl’.

“Ah…this femme fatale that was able to land the infamous Tyler Grady.” She smirks like Duh, and I’m really at a loss as to how to answer. My first instinct it to lie, but then it occurs to me that Ty probably wouldn’t want me to. He’s come out to his family and the team, and the only reason his and Zane’s relationship is somewhat in the closet is because of the Bureau. Obviously Jenna doesn’t know any FBI agents so I figure I might as well tell her the truth.

“Zane.”  I pull a Guinness out of the refrigerator, deciding to leave her hanging a bit longer for no other reason than I like to tease her.

She furrows her brow. “Interesting name for a girl.”

“That’s because he isn’t” I pick up the plates, napkins and beer and head out to the parlor as she follows behind.

“He isn’t?” she puts her hand on her hip, “Stop taunting and spill O’Flaherty.”

“Not much to tell,” I plop my bounty next to the pizza box as we both sit down. “Ty’s bisexual and fell in love with a man, a really cool man actually, and their perfect together. End of.”

“End of?” she asks as I dish out a slice on each plate and hand Jenna hers. “Did you know he was…like that?”

“Like what?” I ask as I take a bite, “Capable of settling down.”

“Don’t be an asshole Nick, you know what I mean,” she blots the top of her slice with a napkin to absorb some of the excess grease like she always does before taking her first bite.

“Bisexual?” I ask around my second bite, “You can say it Jenna, it’s not a bad word. Gay, bisexual, it’s no big, right?” Right Jenna? Come on girl, don’t disappoint me. My stomach is suddenly tight with anticipation as I wait for her to say something. My personal stake in her answer could eventually come to play in our friendship one day if I ever meet someone. The someone.

“No, of course not, it’s just…” she shrugs, “I don’t know. I never would have guessed it when I met him is all. So did you know?”

“Why,” I set my plate down and pick up a napkin to wipe my hands. “Because he wasn’t sashaying around in pink and talking with a lisp? Do you really believe in stereotypes, Jen?” I decide to ignore the last question, because no, up until about six months ago I didn’t know about his sexuality, but at this point I find it irrelevant.

“No, I just…” she swallows her food, “maybe a little. I mean he is very masculine and fucking hot. Plus he fucked Irene and Lisa that weekend…”

“So, he’s bisexual. He likes both sexes.” I lift my brows at her, “But even if he were straight up gay, he could still be masculine. It doesn’t make him any less a man. Any less capable.” I’m aware at this point that I’m getting defensive, but I can’t help it. It’s a sore subject for me for obvious reasons.

“Chill Nick,” She says, setting her slice down to pick the rest of her pepperoni off with her French tipped acrylic nails. “I know he’s your best friend, I’m not sayin’ anything bad. I’m just…surprised is all.”

“Yeah, ok you’re surprised. You’d never have guessed.” I take a slow breath to calm my nerves. She’s right, she’s not being a bigot she’s just uninformed like most of my neighborhood, including my family. The thought that it might be me that has to educate them at some point is fucking terrifying. One of the many reasons I’ve been swimming in denial for so long. Too long. “Let’s just drop it, yeah?”

“Whatever,” she settles back in the black leather cushions with her plate and that fucking look on her face. She’s pissed and hurt and I’m a dick, but I just don’t feel like dealing right now. I know Jenna though, in no time I’ll be able to get her to laugh and forget about this conversation. She may be hell on wheels and be able to hold a grudge better than that crazy bitch in the well, but I’ve always been her exception. I flip on the Red Sox game, and as expected, within fifteen I have her giggling over a Rico story involving an old lady, a parrot and a runaway jazzy.

Three hours later, after the fucking Sox lose to the Indians three to eight and we’ve cleaned up our dinner; Jenna somehow ended up straddling my lap with her tongue in my mouth. I say somehow not because I’m a fucking moron or because she roofied me, but because really I don’t know how we keep ending up in this situation. We both know it’s not good for either or us, and we certainly can’t give each other what the other needs, yet somehow once a month here we are ending up naked and feeling just a little bit awkward afterwards.

Actually, I know what my problem is, I’m fucking lonely and I love Jenna, just not in the right way. I know I sound like a complete jerk off and like I’m using her, but honestly for the longest time I felt like as long as I was being honest with her I wasn’t doing anything wrong. In my defense I have reiterated my position many times and asked her if she was okay with it, which always resulted in her getting pissed and reassuring me that she was a tough cookie and a grown woman and was perfectly capable of making her own God damn decisions thank you very much. Lately though, after what happened with Ty and all, I’m really seeing how the heart can be blind and hope for things that are never going to happen, and in the long run are better off not happening. I don’t want to be her Ty. I don’t want her to hold on for another ten years and put her love life and heart on the back burner in hopes that I will one day change my mind when really it’s not meant to be.

So with these thoughts running through my head, on top of my lack of sleep and my new found lease on wanting to actually find someone genuine since my trip to Baltimore (I’m not even counting the fact that I’ve been crushing on someone who is most definitely not attainable. Yeah, I know, I’m a slow fucking learner, what do you want?) I don’t quite know how I’ve ended up in this position again besides the fact that my flag is flying at half mast.

“Jenna,” I finally say as I pull my mouth away from hers.

“What?” she pants, flinging her hair to the side as she starts to kiss down my neck and chest. When did my shirt come off?

“Jenna, wait a sec.” I can’t help but rest my head back on the cushions because the attention does feel nice.

“What?” she asks again, as she sits back on my legs and looks at me with glazed eyes. “Ready to go down stairs?”

“No…no, listen.” I take in a breath, “I‘m just not into this tonight.”

“Whatever,” she snorts as she slides off of my lap and onto her knees. I can’t blame her for not listening to me. I am sort of a joker, though I’d never joke at a time like this, and I’ve certainly never been known to say no to sex.

She thrusts her hand inside of my sweatpants to pull out my cock and stops as her hand encloses over my semi-hardness. I’ve always been proud of my stamina, and at thirty seven I can still get it up if the wind blows just right, so this partial erectile dysfunction is new to us both. Well, maybe I should say, to all three of us.

“Are you tired?” She looks at me with furrowed brow for a second, then attempts to pull my cock out anyway. “I can just blow you.”

“No, Jenna,” I gently extract my member from her hand and tuck it away, “I’m just…I’m not feeling this…Us, I mean. I don’t think we should…I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

“Do what?” she asks with that tilt of her head that tells me I’m about to get burned by the fireball if I don’t word shit just right. “Fuck or hang out?”

“Fuck…” I answer hesitantly,”I don’t know…maybe both? Just for awhile. The hanging out part I mean. The fucking should be permanent.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she stands up and places a hand on a cocked hip and I know there are no right words to say, I’m fucking toast, man. “You aren’t even making sense. We’ve had this fucking discussion before Nicolas, I’m good with how thing are. I thought we were good.”

“That’s the thing though,” I run my hand over my hair. “You’re not good. We’re not good. This just…this isn’t working for either of us. This isn’t what I want. This isn’t what you want.”

“Who. Are you. To tell me what is right for me? Huh, Nick? Who made you fucking King of my life?” Her head is going side to side now and I know I’ve really fucked it all up. Drop me in the middle of enemy territory and tell me to take on a fucking village and I’ll accomplish it without an issue, try to get me to explain how I’m feeling and I fuck that shit all to hell.

“Jenna,” I sigh.

“No,” she waves a finger in front of my face, “Don’t fucking Jenna me. What’s going on? Did you meet someone else? Does she know you’ve got me on your couch with my panties all wet?”

“What?! No.” I stand up and try to take her hand but she pulls away from me.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You can’t even get it up for me anymore? What did you fuck her right before I walked in?” she’s being ludicrous, and with her jumping from one thing to another my head starts to spin and I’m completely confused. How did we get from me saying ‘this isn’t good for us’, to wet panties and me fucking some mystery woman who’s been apparently hiding somewhere on the boat?

“I didn’t fuck anybody. There isn’t any other girl.” I watch helplessly as she gathers her purse. “I’m just trying to say…”

“Just trying to say, just trying to say,” she mimics in a voice I really hope doesn’t sound a thing like me. Honest to God, I cannot figure out why she is so mad, “It’s not about what you’re saying Nick, it’s…you know what? Fuck you!” She slings her purse over her shoulder and heads for the door.

“Jenna, don’t leave.” I take a small step forward, “Let’s talk about this. You’re being irrational.”

She spins around and glares at me and I realize I’ve just used a word to an irate woman that is like a red flag to a charging fucking bull.

“Irrational? Irrational, Nick?” her voice goes somewhat calm at the question. Oh Yeah, I’m fucked. “Let me tell you what’s irrational. Irrational is a man who has enough money to live on a fucking yacht but still works at a job where he puts his life on the line. Irrational is a man who has some sort of death wish. Irrational is a man, who ten years later, is still wishing he was a fucking marine. A man who has a woman who is willing to do anything for him, who…who is perfect for him, but he still wants to screw around town like he’s a fucking teenager. A man, who is so pathetic, he still shows off to the boys from the hood like he’s big man on campus. A man, who is thirty fucking seven years old and still wants to live in the memories of his glory days instead of making a future with a wife and kids and becoming a fucking grown up!”

“Damn.” I utter, and feel my shoulders literally sag as the wind is knocked from my sails, “I didn’t know you had such a fucking high opinion of me Jenna. Thanks.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit Nicky. Don’t give me that Oh woo is me, I didn’t get to stay a Marine so my life is over crap.” Again with the mocking tone. “Get the fuck over yourself. No one feels sorry for you any more Nick. Some shit happened to you, you got discharged; shit didn’t work out like you’d planned! Boo fucking hoo! Well guess what? Shit didn’t work out for a lot of us like we’d planned but we deal with it. I deal with it. And I don’t need you, or anyone else, to tell me how I should live my life, or what is good for me.”

“I was just trying to-,” I shake my head. I can’t even muster any strength in my voice for this battle. Too much of what she’s said has hit too close to home, and honestly at this point, I’d rather she’d just leave.

“You were just trying to…? What? Spare my feelings?” Her voice is starting to level out now but it makes no difference to me.

“You know what Jen?” I ask as nicely as I possibly can, “Just go.”

“Just…what?” her eyebrows raise up so high they nearly disappear in her hairline. She’s used to me trying to smooth things out between us when we argue. She’s used to me chasing her to her car if I have to in order to make things right; but not tonight. Suddenly, I just don’t have the energy or the will to even carry on this conversation any further.

“Just go. Go home. We’ll talk...another time. Just…”

“Fuck you Nick!” Her voice wavers and I know she’s on the verge of tears as she flings the door open, “Don’t call me! Don’t you fucking call me! There is nothing for us to talk about!” and with that she is out the door with a slam, and I collapse onto the couch.

She’s right. Everything she’s said is right and then some. I have been living in the past. I have been holding onto a future that I wanted to have, and all the while life has been passing me by. I’ve recently realized this on my own though, and had planned on making a change, but to know others have noticed this about me? That people I care about view me in this way? That fucking hurts, man. I’ve always prided myself on not only being able to smile in the face of danger, but to smile at my own inner demons and sadness as well. Apparently my smile didn’t appear as authentic as I had thought. Who else saw through my façade? Who else pitied me, or worse, thought I pitied myself?

Damn, I hate these days when reality decides to walk right up and punch me in the mouth. Fuck it. Fuck hiding how I feel. I have no energy tonight. I decide to call my best friend, or go on the blog and let that shit fly, because tonight I don’t feel like fucking Superman. Tonight I feel like Clark Kent, and I’m hanging up the red cape and the rest of the fucking costume because I just want to be human like everybody else. Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll step into that phone booth and lose the glasses, but tonight…I’ve given in to the kryptonite and just need to be vulnerable.