Beautiful Disaster

Chapter 27

I wake up in the dark, a few hours after I’ve fallen asleep. Outside the sky is still black, but it feels closer to dawn than midnight. When I turn my head to the left I find Bella still soundly asleep, wrapped in almost every scrap of duvet available, but the far side of the bed is empty. For a moment I wonder if Jazz simply got cold feet and ran, but then I remember that most times during the last few weeks when I got home at crazy hours in the night I’ve found him awake, insomnia keeping him bound to zapping through late night tv shows.

When trying to go back to sleep fails I get up instead, moving slowly and as silently as possible as I dress, trying not to wake Bella. My assumption about Jasper’s whereabouts are verified when I step into the short hallway at the top of the stairs, finding the room below illumined by the flickering lights from the tv.

On my way down I pick up several pieces of clothing that none of us has cared to carry into the hamper yet – I have to retrieve Bella’s tank top from one of the overhead lights by jumping up and down two times – and of course my entry doesn’t go unnoticed. Jazz looks up from where he has been frowning at a re-run of some 70s cop show, the bad lighting making it impossible for me to read the look on his face.

"Can’t sleep?" I prompt unnecessarily, getting a shrug in return.

"Not really. Figured I’d better go before I wake either of you up with my tossing and turning. Seems to have been only moderately successful.

Sorry."

"Don’t worry, I rarely sleep for more than five consecutive hours. Working at the hospital has seriously screwed up my circadian rhythm."

He nods, then turns back to the tv, but after a few seconds grabs the remote and shuts it off. Standing there in silence in the dark feels a little awkward so I turn on the reading lamp at the end of the couch, the low, gentle light casting more shadows than lighting the room properly.

When Jazz makes no move to get up I sit down on the other side of the couch from him, still feeling a tad awkward for a moment, but that passes quickly. He snorts softly and shakes his head as if to rid himself of a similar feeling, and I relax a little more. We share a grin and the residual tension is gone, leaving us both feeling more comfortable around each other than we’ve been in a long, long time.

"There’s no easy way to ask this, so in the spirit of being blunt, just how pissed at me are you still?" he breaks the silence eventually. Looking at me with a guilty smile that’s part real regret and part his usual charming self, he goes on when I just quirk one eyebrow. "I’m not beyond groveling, you know, but I’d really like to know where we stand. I don’t want to come off as a jerk by seeming like I don’t give a shit, nor do I want to drag everything into forced niceties territory. Just give me a hint about where in that spectrum I should be right now."

I give that some thought, mostly to humor him, before I can’t hold a chuckle back in. He looks irritated at first but then joins in, shaking his head.

"Man, I know just how soap opera that sounds! But seriously, what shall I do?"

"Just be yourself," I reply sagely, then snort and go back on that. "Just your non-deceiving, not too much of an ass**le kind of self. And no grand gestures, those really never work out."

He nods, agreeing with me, before he turns the motion into a shrug.

"Well, you asking Bella if she’d marry you kind of did work out for you."

I chuckle, shaking my head.

"Last time I checked we’re not engaged anymore, whatever the f**k that even means, so I’m sure there are a lot of women between ages five to a hundred who would disagree with you."

"You’re still together, madly in love, apparently both secure enough in your relationship to f**k the same guy, and in Bella’s case, abuse me as a bed warmer, to me that sounds a long way towards ‘working out’, if you ask me."

"True," I admit, then snicker at his way of summing things up. "It’s just words anyway. For us. But I really mean it when I say, just be yourself.

We’ve seen you at your best and worst plenty of times and still find it in ourselves to like you, so just don’t deliberately f**k up and we’ll be good."

"That easy, huh?"

"Or that hard. Depends on how you see it."

Jazz looks down at his hands then as if to avoid my gaze for a while.

"I know I’ve said it before, but I’m really sorry for what I did. And I’m insanely grateful that you’re both willing to give me that chance to make it up to you and earn your trust back."

"That’s what friends are for."

My answer is a deliberate choice of words, and I gauge his reaction carefully, but he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. I’m glad that so far what he’s said all seems to have been the truth, although my ego may not agree with that a hundred percent. Moving on before I can feel stupid I steer the topic to safer waters.

"Anyway, so I take it you have no regrets about what we did?"

"Not really, no," he admits, then chuckles as if he is laughing at himself.

"Except for me feeling as if I’ve stumbled from one thing to the next. Guess that showed?"

"Kinda," I scoff good naturedly, but try to take the sting out of it with a grin.

"But that’s part of the fun, at least for me. I don’t think Bella has any protests, either. She obviously felt a lot more at ease with you not treating her with kid gloves that much."

He sends me a quizzical looks, then laughs again.

"It’s kind of creepy how much you notice during sex, you know that?"

I take that as a compliment.

"Practice. Couldn’t do what I like to do if I can’t keep enough brain power to catch on to something as obvious as you trying not to appear like it still bothers you a little when you grab her hair and shove your c**k down her throat, while she’s moaning like she’s inwardly high-fiving herself."

He nods at that, but a hint of doubt is plain on his face.

"Makes sense. Although it’s kind of intimidating. Having to be that in control of myself and everything, really, as a dominant. I mean, you’ve told me that a hundred times but it’s never really gotten through to me before."

"It makes a difference to just know on the one hand, and picture yourself in the situation," I retort, then can’t keep from laughing with a hint of derision.

"Sorry, but it’s kind of funny for me to see you squirm about something you looked down at me for just a short while ago."

Jazz has the grace to look a little appalled, but he doesn’t protest. Instead he inclines his head, then scratches his chin.

"Speaking of that, my previous thick-headedness aside, would you be willing to show me a few things?"

"As Bella so correctly said, I’d love to. In the end it will be easier this way anyway."

"What do you mean?"

I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain.

"Things have become more fluent between us of late. It would be hard for her and me both to go back to keeping sex and play separate again now.

I’m not sure we could even do it, and I don’t think either of us would even want to try. Including you as a more active part into that balance will be easier than having to always keep track of your reactions."

He nods, not quite able to hide his excitement, but then his enthusiasm falters a little.

"Being a little rough with her is one thing, but I don’t know just how far I feel comfortable going with her. I know that I can’t really hurt her without freaking out, and I’m not sure I can even watch you making her cry or something like that."

At least he’s honest, although his words still make him seem like a hypocrite to me.