Jay Gatsby is an Anxious Mess
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It was not unusual for me to notice the beauty that was the man before me, I have eyes of course. It would be more unusual for me to ignore it, to act as though he was any other man. “Do you– want. . .?” I murmured gesturing with my cigarette.
“Sure,” Jay mumbled, standing up a little straighter and looking at me expectantly. With a sudden rush of boldness instead of handing him the embering cigarette I stepped into his space, looking down at him and blowing the smoke out and into his face. He faltered slightly and I hesitated and gave him the chance to step away, but he didn’t— instead he inhaled with an open mouth. The smoke curled between us, bright white in the dark between us and obscuring my vision of his face. I leaned in closer after another puff off my cigarette, his lips parting before I blew the smoke directly into his mouth.
“We should go in,” Jay said suddenly, pulling away and flashing a wobbly smile, “Just so they don’t worry, old sport.”
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Nick and Jay have a lot of feelings about the coming new year... and eachother