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“Abigail? Is that you?”
She looked up to find John, blue eyes deep with concern.
“Yes...what is it?” She quickly tried to wipe the tears from her face with the back of her hand. Much to her dismay, her brown bangs remained adhered to her makeup streaked face, despite her efforts to make herself presentable.
“Can I sit with you?” He asked softly.
She nodded, allowing him to sit next to her. They both sat with their backs against the side of the house.
“Look, I’m not really in the mood to argue with you about some stupid philosophy assignment or political theory.”
“I figured,” he said, nodding. “I saw you slip out of the party. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped or murdered.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. He smirked at her, hoping his charm would cheer her up. A quiet, reflective silence fell over them.
“So, are you gonna tell me what made you leave the party to sit on the side of some random house and cry?” He asked.
She gave him an incredulous look, making him laugh. As much as she was hurting, she reveled in the sound of his laugh: gruff, yet playful.
“You’d laugh if I told you.”
He looked at her sideways, “What makes you think I’d laugh at you?”
“You laugh at me all the time! You think mocking me is part of your charm.”
He smirked, “It is.”
She hit his right arm, causing him to dramatically fall over. “Okay okay, I’m sorry. I swear I won’t laugh...unless it’s just outrageously funny.”
She went to hit him again, and he apologized once more. “I’m sorry, go ahead. Tell me, please?”
She sighed. “Okay.” Taking in a deep breath, she began, “There’s this guy in my French class. We’ve had to pair up in class for conversations and such. He’s really nice and sweet, or at least I thought he was.”
John, confused, gestured for her to continue.
“I asked him if he wanted to get coffee sometime, and he agreed. We went a few days ago, and I genuinely believed it went well, you know? He laughed at my bad education jokes and even that one philosophy joke you told me once.”
“Whoa, you told him the Marxist tea joke?! I told you that as in confidence, as a way to help you remember Marxist theory. You stole my joke to impress some French boy!” John finished accusingly.
“Hey, he’s not French. He’s in my French class. LOOK, that’s not the point.”
He sighed, “Okay fine, go ahead.”
“Thank you. Okay so, as I was saying, I thought it went really well. So, I decided to text him and ask if he wanted to come to this party with all of us. He told me he didn’t really know anyone, and I figured it could help, especially since he’s considering transferring to Harvard.”
“Right.” John agreed.
“All of a sudden, he started acting weird. He started sending me really bland texts, until he stopped sending them completely. I called him earlier before the party, and there was no answer. I arrived here and-“
“You drank three shots of tequila, and got a little tipsy, yes I remember.” He laughed.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I got a little drunk and that’s sort of why I came outside.”
“I’m confused, did you need to vomit?”
“No! I-“ She suddenly felt very strange telling him the last bit of her story.
John interjected, “Get to the point, Abigail.”
She reluctantly continued. “I came out here to call him. I called him like four times, and left drunk, awkward messages each time.” As soon as she said it, she shrunk down further than she already was, clearly embarrassed to be telling her philosophy tutor about her boy troubles.
John tried to stifle a laugh. He looked at her apologetically. “He’s a jerk, and you have almost nothing to be embarrassed about, Sure, seeing him in class might suck for a while. But it’s also November. The semester will be over soon. Cry it out for now, but you’ll find someone better.”
On his last words, he felt the urge to place his right hand on her left shoulder. While in the moment it felt like the right thing to do, he realized his mistake too late. When Abigail turned to face him, their eyes made contact. Steel blue met tawny brown. In their drunken state, both John and Abigail felt bolder and held each other’s gaze.
“Do you really think I can find someone better?” She replied, barely above a whisper.
He nodded. “You deserve the real thing, Abby.” He affirmed, almost inaudibly. His eyes fell to her lips for a brief second, before glancing back up at her. Only, he found her watchful eyes shift to his hand. He’d moved it atop hers without even realizing it.
Whether it was the alcohol, the golden flecks in her eyes, or the intimacy of using her nickname, John felt the overwhelming urge to lean in, take her face in his hands, and kiss her.
As if in slow motion, he moved his hands to her face, using his thumbs to remove the newly fallen tears and streaks of mascara. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.
“Can I-“ he stopped, knowing how completely insane this was. Just as he started to move his hands, Abigail stopped him, opened her eyes, and whispered, “Yes, please.”
As wrong as it was, it was all John needed. He pulled her into him, kissing her softly at first. She obliged, twisting her body to face him, deepening the kiss. Just as she slipped her tongue in his mouth, he remembered himself and the kiss stopped abruptly.
At first, she looked confused, then, scared. She felt something within herself shift. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her bag and wished to be anywhere but there.
John watched her, mentally willing his legs to follow her, for his hand to catch her wrist. His body listened. He stood up and grabbed her hand before she got too far. She spun around, looking at him curiously, almost daring him to continue.
“John?” She asked, eyes wide with longing.
Desperate, he pulled her into him once more, holding her small frame close against him. Slowly, he backed her against the side of the house. They both became desperate to touch, to feel, and to want. Just as he cupped her face to hold her steady, her hands found his waist, pulling him closer. In a tangle of mouths, hands, and tongues, John pushed his leg between her thighs, pushing her further against the building. His left hand traveled to her right breast, desperate to get to know the parts of her that she hid from the world.
In the midst of their tryst against the wall, John felt a jolt of fear shoot through his body. He stiffened, breaking the kiss suddenly. Abigail’s world shifted. His hands quickly fell to his sides. When he looked back at her, she was breathless, panting, and full of desire. It was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her. The jolt of fear hit him again, pushing him further away from her.
Abigail remained, left wanting, as John stalked away without a word. She stood there a few seconds longer, out of breath and deeply confused. A French song blared on her phone, signaling a returned phone call. Abigail let it ring, the French boy having long left her mind.
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-abby s.

Author's Note:

This is a Part II I wrote for my initial john and abigail piece. It takes place about a year before the first part, so if you want to read them in order, read this first.

I'm considering starting a series because I have written more since the first one was posted here. If anyone actually reads this far, let me know if you'd like to see more!

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