Returning his greeting in kind I'm about to walk out of the condo when I realize how strange he is acting - actually it's the first time ever that I've seen him eat his preferred main food group straight from the container, and I'm surprised that the mess of cornflakes that he has left on the counter when he poured them into the yogurt doesn't drive him crazy. What I see when I scrutinize him more closely confirms my suspicion - he doesn't look as if he has slept at all last night, and while I might not be the best judge on that topic, he seems worse off this morning than the evening he has shown up on our doorstep.
The nasty, vengeful part of me cackles gleefully at that realization but I force myself not to gloat at his misery - and instead surprise myself with the words my sleep addled brain comes up with.
"I'm going for a run, wanna join me?"
Jazz stops chewing his mouthful of food, his eyes flitting over my face as if he's looking for any kind of malicious intent there. When he finds none he swallows and shrugs.
"Only if you're doing this out of some other motive than having pity with me."
Snorting, I incline my head in a silent 'touché' gesture.
"And there I thought dragging you out into that weather would seem like an attempt to get back at you."
He's silent for a moment, then offers a hint of his usual bright grin.
"True. I'll be back in a sec."
While he ruts through his stuff to find his running shoes I busy myself with checking my phone. Then we take off into the hostilely cold morning together.
For the first mile neither of us speaks, and I feel myself relax a little more with every block we pass. Over the summer I've gotten used to running alone unless Bella insist on joining me, but while I don't mind slowing down for her, when I run, I want to run. It's my way of shutting down my mind and letting my body finds its limits - I guess most people use sex for that purpose, but as much as I like to play, I can't ever let my guard down. But I can, and do, when I let houses, streets, trees, rivers zoom past me. Only I don't like to be alone all the time, how much so I only realize now that Jazz is along with me again.
I can tell that he has kept up running in the meantime, maybe even worked out more than before. I've always been the faster one of us, longer legs and more time spent outdoors than in the gym helping, but I don't have to slow down at all for him to stay right on my heels. Probably because Alice would have let him go to the dojo without complaints but griped at him playing Halo all night on the xbox, the nasty voice in my head helpfully supplies. And if things were less than stellar between them, he'd probably had to burn off any excess energy through physical exertion, too, as I can't imagine Alice being the kind of woman to put out when she's grumpy. At that I remind myself that Jasper's sex life is in no way of any concern to me, and increase my pace just a little more to shut my brain up from providing any more entertaining notions like that.
There aren't many people up and about yet, and we encounter only a handful of other joggers and dog walkers. Most notable is a pair of women running in the opposite direction - they even stop their animated conversation that doesn't seem to be hampered by their speed to smile and greet us - and I'm surprised that Jazz has barely a look and nod to spare for them. Like the spilled cornflakes incident his complete lack of interest in displaying his usual charm makes me wonder just what is going on in his head. Try as I might I can't stop myself from feeling sympathy for him, and from that moment on the silence between us seems awkward to me. As if I'm deliberately shutting him down out of spite when he probably needs a friend right now like seldom before in his life. Although I'm still honest enough with myself that my motivation behind striking up a conversation is not exactly to let him vent, but for me to stop feeling like an ass.
We have to slow down a little to get out more than a few coherent words, and after several still pressed, single-word answers we finally find a few topics we can discuss - sports, news, video games - and by the time we are back home and spend another few minutes outside stretching talking to him feels nearly natural again. I don't even try to steer the conversation to anything more meaningful or possibly loaded as I guess he will eventually get there if we wants to, but just chatting like that seems to ease some of the strain he is dragging around with him.
Upstairs Bella is awake if looking a little disheveled, her hair still damp from the shower as she fills three mugs of coffee from a freshly brewed pot. I give her a proper good morning kiss before I go shower and dress, hurrying up so that Jazz can hit the shower afterwards before he catches a cold in his sweaty clothes. Because our apartment isn't intended to house guests we have two bathrooms but only one equipped with a shower - the one adjacent to our bedroom - and for the first time I wonder who plans something that impractical.
Bella is silent through most of our breakfast - without Jazz once again as he is still in the shower - until I nudge her elbow gently to get her attention.
The wide-eyed look she gives me tells me more than words ever could, and I sigh inwardly as I reach for my yet neglected coffee.
"What's wrong?"
For a moment it looks as if she's about to deny that there is something bothering her, but at a brief glare from me she drops the pretense, her eyes flitting towards the stairs.
"Did he say anything?"
"About what?"
"Don't be so dense, you know what I mean!" she hisses, but before I can answer - or laugh at the way her cheeks start to haze over with a hint of a blush - Jazz joins us, and after a moment of hesitation takes his cup of coffee over to the breakfast bar to sit down at the end closer to me. I'm a little surprised that he doesn't take the seat next to Bella, but then I catch the stare she is still directing at him.
While ready to offer help, she hasn't actually been very welcoming towards him - not that I blame her, but it only now occurs to me how that must seem to him. In turn I feel a twinge of guilt at my own behavior - shouldn't I have been the one acting the most hostile? - but then I quell the thought before it can start bothering me. I know Bella has had ample opportunity to express any misgivings about my behavior, and I have to admit, she only seems to want to stay distant from Jazz herself, while my attempts not to act up have only gotten me grateful smiles from her. As if she's happy that one of us can at least act civil.
Way before I want to I have to leave for the hospital, Bella on my heels although I know that she rarely starts working before nine in the morning, and for the next four days I have more important things to worry about than whether Bella will kick Jazz's head in sooner or later or not at all. The cold weather and pre-Thanksgiving madness bring hordes of people into the ER, and I can rarely catch enough time to properly eat before the next full free day. Which gets shoved back another three agonizing long shifts when Amanda tells me that she just can't let me go home with patients standing in line in front of the OR.
When I finally come home I'm so tired I nearly fall asleep in the elevator.
Two failed attempts to get the door unlocked finally get Bella to open it from the inside, and she greets me with a warm embrace, a passionate kiss, and a much appreciated, "Gee, you look like shit!"
That's my girl, always has the right words ready.
A strong cup of coffee and some real food later I drag my sorry carcass upstairs into the bed, not surprised that Bella stays up. Only the next morning I realize that things between her and Jazz have shifted a little, at least judging from the way they joke their way through breakfast. It's a relief to see her more at ease around him again, although I feel a little jealous of the time he gets to spend with her while I'm not around, which in turn makes me feel stupid. I still drag her back into bed when she follows me upstairs to brush her teeth, but I haven't even successfully gotten my hand into her pants when she stops me cold by pushing away from me.
"Edward, stop."
Confused, I look at the clock first, but it's still early enough that she won't be late for work, and I don't remember her saying anything about having an important meeting today. She's also still in her sweat pants, not dressed for work and without make-up applied, so it really can't be that. My eyes find hers and I raise one brow, hoping she will explain, which she does with a sigh - and a quick gaze towards the closed bedroom door.
"I'm really not comfortable with having sex right now."
"Why not?"
She looks at me for a long moment as if that should have been obvious, then catches her lower lip between her teeth.
"Because I'm not comfortable with having sex right now."
"Your period?" I venture a guess, although I know the answer already.
"No. And you know that has very seldom stopped you. Or me, for that matter."
I'm tempted to play this game until she spills the beans, but I'm tired of it already.
"So you don't want to have sex with me because Jazz is here now."
She nods, obviously waiting for me to throw a fit or something, but when I don't react at all, she sighs.
"I'm just not comfortable with it."
"You keep repeating that. And just for the record, three times is not the charm here."
She snorts but offers me an apologetic smile at the same time.
"I know. But I can't really explain it in different words."
"You are aware that he won't expect us to be celibate just because he's hogging our couch, right?"
"This is not about him hearing us!" she huffs, then gets up from the bed to start pacing. "This is about me not wanting to give him anything to hear!"
"Okay," I offer in reply, more to the way she throws her hands up in their air than her actual 'argumentation' - while both my mind and cock feel like throwing a fit on their own now.
"Really?"
Her surprise makes me second-guess if I should have fought a little harder for getting some, but the last thing I want is for her to be upset. And I can't shake off the feeling that there is more to this than her just being squeamish.
"Don't get me wrong, the fact that I'm the only one who in one way or another doesn't get to influence when who is going to fuck in this house doesn't escape me, but if you don't want to have sex, then we won't. It's that easy, and you know that."