Fifteen

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I've just sunk down on the couch with a bowl full of popcorn and an unhealthy amount of coffee in front of me, ready to lean back and enjoy three uninterrupted hours of Bones - I'm on an episode where one of the main cast is once again in mortal danger because apparently being a forensic anthropologist is one of the most dangerous professions in the world - when the front door opens.

I still with my hand halfway down the popcorn bowl, wondering who it might be. I don't think anyone knocked, but I could have been too occupied drooling over how hot Booth looks in any outfit ever to notice.

I strain my ears, trying to pick up any small noises that could indicate that someone is currently in the process of robbing me. A burglar would be a really inconvenient interruption on my Sunday series marathon, but then I hear the unmistakable sound of Jen's fancy heels hitting the floor.

My eyes flick over to the clock on the mantel, checking that it is indeed still before noon and that I haven't somehow lost several hours. Jen shouldn't be home yet.

"Jen?" I call out, aware that if it somehow isn't her, I have just given away my location, but then again, the Bones theme-music blaring away on the TV might already have done that.

No answer. I'm distracted by the very graphic image of a decomposing body on the television when a movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye.

Jen walks across the entrance towards the stairs in her church dress, barefoot.

"Jennifer? Why are you home?" I ask. I'm almost convinced she hasn't heard me, since she doesn't react at all, but the way her hand tightens the hold on the banister and her shoulders come up around her ears says otherwise.

I frown, looking back at the television just as someone tries to shoot Booth, and I feel somewhat cheated that I have to pause right now. Nevertheless, I do and then quickly follow Jen up the stairs, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.

Her door is ajar, and I gently nudge it open, seeing Jen sitting on her bed, slowly removing her church jewelry as if on autopilot.

"Hi," I say cautiously, not liking this one bit. "What's going on?"

Without looking up at me or pausing her movements for a second, Jen replies in a flat voice, "I broke up with Darren."

I stare at her for a full ten seconds, possibly gaping, while trying to quiet the mariachi band that instantly started playing in my head when she uttered those words.

"Broke up as in...?"

"As in ended the engagement." She removes the big rock she's been carrying around for the last year. Not once since Darren placed that god-awful thing on her finger have I seen her look at it with anything but adoration, but now there's a flicker of pure loathing in her eyes as she tosses it onto her nightstand.

I'm ready to pop the champagne and hang banners saying 'the douche canoe is gone!', however, something about the vacant expression on Jen's face makes me hold my horses on the celebration.

"Why?"

A possibly somewhat naive part of me can't help but hope that Jen spontaneously and completely independently came to the life-altering revelation that she is in fact way too good for that sleazeball, and yet I do consider myself a pretty logical individual, so I know the chances of that are slim to none.

I've been planning Darren's untimely demise in the event that he broke my best friend's heart ever since I met him, and in the last three years I've built up quite the portfolio. It ranges from the completely mild ones - to use if the break-up was amicable - to the more colorful options.

Like sailing out into the middle of the ocean and slowly cutting off various non vital limbs and feeding them to the sharks right in front of his eyes, while I wait for him to bleed to death.

But that's the nuclear option - I'm sure that won't be necessary.

Jen finally looks up at me. Her blue eyes are indifferent, and there are no emotions to detect in her voice as she answers me, "because I found him in bed with another woman."

What. The. Fuck?

The previous happy background music playing in my head instantaneously changes into something along the lines of the theme from Jaws.

Ominous and promising bodily harm.

Shark bait it is.

"I'm gonna kill him," I state, my hands bawling at my side, the rage inside me radiating off me in palpable waves.

"You will do no such thing," Jen says assertively, her blue eyes blazing with authority.

"You just said you found him fucking some rando!" I exclaim.

"Oh, she wasn't random," Jen's voice is quiet, menacing. "It was one of his coworkers."

My eyebrows shoot up because I legit didn't think he could get any worse. "So it's happened before?"

She rolls her lips into her mouth, shrugging. "Well, I have no confirmation of that, but they did look rather... acquainted."

I'm going to spend the rest of my life in jail. "He's dead."

"No."

I'm already half-turned when Jen's voice stops me. I fight the urge to stomp my foot like a petulant child, because I have no idea why she's so adamant against this. It's not like I will actually kill him... just severely maim. "Do you seriously think I will let him get away with doing that to you?"

"I know you, Soph. You're gonna do something incredibly impulsive and reckless, resulting in you ending up in a jail cell, and it's just not worth it." She stops as my eyes flick to hers.

"You are worth it, Jen," I say quietly, meaning it with my whole soul. I would do anything for her, no matter how impulsive and reckless.

"He's not worth it," she emphasizes.

"He's a piece of shit," I spit.

She adjusts her glasses. "I didn't say he wasn't."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

A quick flash of pain travels over her face before she moves over on the bed, making room for me beside her. "Well, I went to his place so we could drive to the service together, you know, the one at the house of the lord, where we go to confirm our beliefs in being decent human beings who honor our commitments, but I suppose he forgot I was picking him up."

"So his version of a pre-church ritual consists of a little adultery?"

"It would appear so."

We sit quietly for a while, as we stare at her desk and the whiteboard above it, where Jen keeps a detailed calendar, jotting down every commitment in its assigned color.

Darren is red.

The color of blood.

That seems fitting for when I gut him like a fish.

"Then what happened?" I ask.

She sighs. "I stormed out of there and he followed with his pants around his ankles yelling angry apologies after me, like it was somehow my fault that he fell and slipped inside of her."

Isn't that just Darren in a freaking nutshell?

Jen leans her head against my shoulder. "What am I going to do now, Soph?"

"We could hang banners saying 'the douche canoe is gone!'?"

She chuckles. "Sure." Then she falls quiet, her fingers grasping the cross around her neck, like God might have the answer. When she speaks again, her voice is much lower, more vulnerable, "seriously?"

"Seriously?" I ask. "You'll go on with your life. You keep living here with me, we both know I'm a much better roommate anyways, and you finish your degree and help some foster kids." I rest my cheek against her hair. "And about canceling the wedding, you just leave that to me. I'll take care of it. It'll all be okay."

"You promise?" she whispers.

"I got you, boo," I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

πŸŠβ€β™‚οΈ

After a while, I leave Jen to get some sleep, and then I start on my now very long to-do list.

Never before have I been this happy to cancel anything.

I make quick work of calling the vendor, the caterer, the florist, and so on. I even mail the engagement ring to Darren.

I proposed we sell it on eBay or, better yet, drop-kicked it into an active volcano, but Jen wanted to do the right thing.

At least I got to leave a nasty note accompanying it, threatening Darren's future ability to fuck anyone.

It made me feel better.

I eye the guestlist and my lifted spirits plummet again. This is a part of the wedding preparation that I had purposefully pretended didn't exist. I would deal with seeing all those people when the day came.

At least I won't have to endure a day of quiet whispers and awkward reunions, but they will all have to be told that the wedding is off, and I volunteered to tell them.

I push the list aside, choosing to deal with this at a later date. There are plenty of other things to do.

I ponder if I should indeed order that banner, but if I know Jen right, she won't view this as a festivity.

And yet I can't help but see it like that. That sleazebag has been evicted from Jen's life and I didn't even have to be the bad guy and convince Jen to do it. That sounds like the perfect reason to party if you ask me.Β 

Sure, I would have preferred if Jen didn't have to witness the demise of her engagement in such an explicit way. I would have liked her to reach this conclusion without having her heart torn from her chest, yet, since it had to be done, the visual confirmation of her fiancΓ©'s disregard of their commitments does have its upsides.

Jen is the kindest person I know. She trusts easily, tends to give people too many chances, and always allows someone the benefits of the doubt. But once you break her trust, once you've shown her that you aren't worth the effort, you're gone for good.

And what better way to prove that than fuck your colleague right in front of her?

Darren can get down on his bleeding knees and beg for her forgiveness with backhanded compliments and thinly veiled shifts of blame all he wants, and it will all be for nothing.

He has permanently removed himself from Jen's life, and nothing could make me happier.

So while I know Jen will want to wallow in her crumbling existence for the time being, I can't allow her to do that. She should not look back on this day as one of pain and grief.

No, this is a day of liberation. And damn right, we are going to commemorate it.

I order Jen's favorite food, knowing I have a better chance of getting her to eat that way, and then I drum my nails against the kitchen counter, trying to figure out the best way to go about this.

And I'm not a genius for nothing. It's like a lightbulb has been turned on over my head, as the perfect plan occurs to me. The simplicity of it makes it even better.

I hurry up the stairs while trying to come up with a way to convince Jen to go along with this.

I gently push the door open, peeking into the room. It's eerily quiet. Like a cloud of heavy silence has descended upon it, and I can hardly even hear her breathing.

For a panic-stricken second, I wonder if a heart can give out from sheer betrayal.

But I know Jen would never go out like that. She's too stubborn to let Darren win that way. No, she'll stick around so she can dance on his grave one day. I'll see to it.

"Are you awake?" I ask quietly.

Two beats of loaded silence pass before the figure on the bed shifts. Jen sits up slowly, blinking at the light streaming in from the hallway. "Yeah."

I sit down on the edge of the bed and hand over the Disney mug with coffee I had prepared. This one features Anna from Frozen.

She accepts silently, taking a sip of the cup.

"So, what do you say we get out of here?" I ask her when I'm sure the caffeine has entered her bloodstream.

Her brows pinch. "You're not bringing me along to beat up Darren."

I wave her off. Obviously not. Once I do get my revenge over that scumbag, Jen will be as far from it as possible. "No. We're going out."

"Out?" She looks skeptical. "Soph, I just want to lie here and feel sorry for myself."

"Oh no." I shake my head, pulling the covers off her before I rise from the bed. "We're celebrating tonight."

Something shifts in her expression and a bit of loathing sneak in. "Really? And what on earth do I have to celebrate, Sophie?"

Her voice is sharp, but I shrug it off. It's not me she's mad at. But I'm the closest person, and some could probably argue that I just made a rather insensitive suggestion.

I pull out the pantsuit that she rarely wears because Darren disapproves of the way it hugs her petite frame and turn to her.

"Well. You just lost 200 pounds of deadweight in one morning. If that isn't cause for celebration, then I don't know what is." Then I throw the suit at her, and she catches it, looking from the dark blue piece of clothing to me rather apprehensively.

"I don't know, Soph... You and I going to a bar alone might be kind of sad."

It's like she doesn't even know me. In what universe would I drag her to a bar by ourselves on the eve of her broken engagement? Jen isn't one for the party scene on her good days, so tonight she would be a lot less so. But heartbreak is supposed to be drowned in alcohol and good company, and that's precisely what I'm planning.

"Oh, Jen." I smirk at her, and the alarm on her face kicks up a notch when she sees the mischief in my eyes. "We will be far from alone."

A/N:Β 
Oop, who might they be meeting? πŸ‘€πŸ‘€
Also, how do you think Sophie will get revenge? ➑️

On a unrelated note, where in the world are you reading from?
Regardless where you are, I hope all of you are safe ❀️

- Hanna πŸ’™


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