A/N: I wrote this in my AP world history class yesterday after my test and decided to post it. It's slightly OOC, I think, but I'm sure you'll get over that.
Summary: AU. Dean. You can almost pretend that everything's fine. Unfortunately for you, almost doesn't count. Late second season: Lit.
Disclaimer: If I owned Jess Mariano, you wouldn't be reading this right now. Trust me on that. You can't have my CD collection, and since that's the only thing I own, don't sue.
You watch them from across the room and try to convince yourself that they're just friends. The tugging feeling in your stomach makes you want to second guess yourself but you pretend it isn't there.
You pretend a lot of things as of late.
When she says she loves you, you pretend that her eyes don't really dim; you're imagining it. When she's laughing at something he said, you pretend you don't see the way she subtly grazes his fingers with her own. You pretend that she's not thinking about him when she's with you; she didn't really lie to you and claim she was studying when they were having a movie marathon. She didn't really whisper his name under her breath when you were kissing her.
You can almost pretend that everything's fine. Unfortunately for you, almost doesn't count.
She hears the tiny bell ring; someone has entered the diner. She doesn't look up from the text in front of her but she can feel two arms that encircle her waist; the lips that graze the back of her neck. She closes her book and stands, shooting him an apologetic glance as her fingers twine with yours and she leaves the diner with you.
For some reason you can't pretend you didn't notice.
He doesn't ask any questions when she shows up in tears. He saw your expression when she left with you earlier; he knows what transpired.
So he draws her into his arms and listens quietly as she sobs out an explanation.
He makes a small guttural noise when she apologizes for making him wait so long.
When she kisses him he pretends he doesn't see you watching through the diner window and tugs her closer.
Their hands are fully entwined and his arms are around her waist, allowing her to lean back against him while they watch her best friend's band's first gig. You avert your eyes when he kisses the dip behind her ear and she shivers, closing her eyes.
You never had that effect on her.
And you wonder why it hurts so much to admit that. After all, you broke up with her. But maybe you just sped up the inevitable.
At that thought, you turn around and leave the party.
You clench your fists a little when they walk into the market. His arm is around her waist, her head on his shoulder, and you pretend to ignore the enraged feeling you suddenly have.
You pretend your girlfriend doesn't notice. You pretend you don't hear your mind whispering, "She knows."
You pretend not to notice the way their fingers intertwine and she rests her forehead against his, smiling shyly at him.
You pretend not to notice their purchase when you ring it up and drop it into a plastic bag. They, in turn, pretend not to notice the unnaturally tight grip you held it with. You pretend she isn't really sleeping with him; she hasn't been dating him for nearly a year. She pretends you're over her. He pretends he doesn't care either way.
You forget to pretend when your girlfriend, who's been watching this whole time, asks what's wrong.
"I'm still in love with her," you breathe. They're laughing and pushing each other and you watch them through the window. The girl who was just holding your hand lets go of it and leaves. Your eyes turn to the space she was previously occupying and glue themselves there.
Your knuckles are turning white from the pressure of your nails digging into your palms and you wonder why you have to keep messing everything up.