Scared of Beautiful (Scared #1)(23)
“Hey, you said no!” I mock. “Regret that much?”
“No,” he says, turning serious. “I don’t plan on screwing this up.”
Jackson walks me up to my dorm room and our supposedly innocent goodnight kiss ends up with me once again pressed against the hallway wall, with him holding my arms up above my head and not even a millimeter of space between us.
Thankfully we said our goodbyes in the hall, because upon entering my dorm, I notice Jade is out for the night. She didn’t text to mention anything to about a date. I grab my phone and send a brief message.
Hey. Just me. Where are you?
I take a quick shower, irritated that cleanliness requires me to wash the scent of Jackson’s cologne off of my skin. No message from Jade when I get back. I close my eyes and block out the day’s events from my mind, save for the kiss in the car, and with the memory of Jackson’s lips on mine, I have the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time. Not one nightmare.
The next morning, an overcast sky greets me from the window. Glancing over, Jade’s bed is still empty. I check my phone, and still no texts. Surprisingly I’m awake early, and after carefully dressing in a cream cashmere V-neck jersey and my favorite weathered jeans, I make my way to Art History. As I walk over to the Art Building, I dial Jackson.
“Morning, beautiful.” He sounds like he’s just woken up and my mind reverts back to him in low riding grey sweatpants with no shirt, laying across my bed. “Maia?”
Shit! “Oh hey, yeah I’m here. Morning to you, too. Sleep well?”
“Mmmhmm. I did a few things in my dreams that I’m quite impressed with, actually. After my cold shower of course,” Jackson answers lowly.
“And which harlot found her way into your dreams?” I respond cheekily.
“Her name’s Maia. Forceful chick. Always trying to jump me. Know her?” he retorts laughing. I wish he were here so I could throw something at him!
“Anyway, have you heard from Jade? She stayed out last night and didn’t reply my text.”
“Nah, not since the Bean yesterday. She probably had a date,” Jackson answers. “Speaking of dates, do you have any time today between classes? I’m free all afternoon and I was hoping you are too,” he continues.
“Sure, I’m free from three. I’ll meet you outside the library?” Seriously, three ‘o clock might as well be half a century away. I can’t wait to wrap my arms around Jackson.
Seems like my new love life and almost-sex life do wonders for my GPA. I actually actively participated in most of my classes. All except the Art History class, where my professor went to great lengths to describe how the genitalia may have looked in the Birth of Venus, as compared to Michelangelo’s David’s parts. This would have been fine, if he weren’t so naturally creepy, and didn’t turn beet red every time he even alluded to said genitalia. Just awkward.
By the time three ‘o clock came and I made my way to the library, the wind was blowing a gale, whipping my hair into my face. The offending hair blocked my sight for a brief moment as I went to climb the stairs and I felt myself lose balance. Until a set of strong arms, with a familiar-scented cologne, caught my fall.
“My hero,” I grin, looking up at Jackson’s smiling face.
“Hey beautiful,” Jackson replies, wrapping his arms firmly around my waist.
He plants a smoldering kiss on my lips, and for a brief second my body flushes from the inside out and I feel like I’m falling all over again. The connection between us in undeniable, and so is the sexual chemistry. It’s almost electric, and I know that it’s only a matter of time before I end up with my thighs wrapped firmly around Jackson’s waist, both of us clothing deficient, of course.
“How about a change of scene? I thought maybe we could take a ride to NYC for dinner?” Jackson asks.
“Um, I’m not really dressed for the big city,” I admonish, gesturing towards my worn jeans. “How bout a movie and dinner in Providence?” Truthfully, I really don’t want to risk running into any remnants of my past. But I don’t admit that.
“Sure,” Jackson shrugs as we walk down the stairs towards the parking lot.
It’s easy to be like this with Jackson; he’s easy. No stress, no drama, no control. Just Jackson. My mind does a quick flashback to my father, or not father as it were, and to Bryce and all of their manipulation. I push them out of my mind quickly before they can invade my thoughts.
We cross through the park and I spot a familiar silhouette in the distance. Those squared off shoulders and almost anally straight posture. Bryce. Funny, I always thought he walked like he had a pole shoved up his ass. Now I’m certain. As he approaches us, I pray to God for invisibility right about now. Sadly that does not come to fruition, and Bryce’s face forms a sickening smile when he sees us. My hand automatically reaches for Jacksons. Bryce glances at it momentarily before hissing out my name like the snake he is.
“Maia. So nice to run into you,” he says, completely ignoring Jackson’s presence.
“If only the feeling were mutual,” I deadpan. “What are you doing here?”
“Right now?” he grins. “Just getting Morgan’s books. She’s here for late enrolment in advertising.”
Morgan at Brown? Now there’s a contradiction. The only 4.0 GPA that Morgan has ever possessed is in backstabbing, and how to be a social opportunist. “I guess her daddy’s money does a good job of buying brains too,” I retort sarcastically. Jackson squeezes my fingers lightly, as if telling me not to bite.