Mine Would Be You (30)

She meets my eyes, studying me. “I can ask you anything. Bug you all I want?”

“You can do whatever you want, Nina, if it means you’ll come.” My heart beats heavily as I await her answer.

She bites her lip, and my eyes are hyper focused on the movement until she takes a deep breath, and amusement appears in her eyes, past the hesitation. “All right.” Finally, she lets herself smile, just a little, but it’s enough for me. Enough to know I won’t stop until I get a full smile on those lips. “I’d love to.”

I grin again, leaning back in my seat and staring unabashedly at the girl across from me. I keep my leg hooked around hers under the table, and she doesn’t pull away. I have no idea how I’m already so entranced by her, but I don’t care.

There is something about her, something deeply special about her that Myles must have missed that I intend to fully uncover.





“We all set?” Sloan asks, and with a nod from both Harper and I, she pulls the door shut behind her, locking it.

It’s already July, and we’re getting ready to go to the Hamptons. Time had flown by the past month. Jackson made me feel infinitely better when we had that dinner together after the news about my article. Since then, we’ve had a few more lunch slash early dinner outings, none of them dates. Just for me to get more comfortable. I have. He consistently texts me too, random updates about his day and always asking about mine.

He’s attentive, and caring, and genuinely interested in anything I have to say, and sometimes I didn’t know what to do with it all.

As far as he knows, Myles isn’t coming to this trip, and what he said was right. Myles doesn’t have a say on my dating life. Not anymore. So, I’m walking into this trip with an open mind and excitement at getting to spend time with my best friends, Roman, and Jackson.

As we head downstairs to meet Jackson, I don’t question Harper about Roman like I want to. So far, what Sloan and I have been told is they are just friends who hook up. While it isn’t new for Harper, because she isn’t really a dater, I still suspect more. But I’ll leave her to come to that on her own. We step out onto the street to wait for Jackson and Roman to pull up in Jackson’s car.

I really, really, need to know who his company represents. Because it’s all adding up. A high-rise apartment, a car in the city, even though he barely drives it, and a Hamptons house. Soon enough, a white jeep pulls into the loading area with its hazards on.

Jackson hops out and heads straight towards me. Before I can stop him, he scoops up my duffle bag. He grabs Sloan’s as well, placing them in the back compartment of the jeep as Roman does the same with Harper’s.

When he is back in front of me, he smiles and drapes his arm over my shoulder. His fingers drum lightly on my skin, setting off a feeling equivalent to a bunch of little sparklers going off.

“You guys all set?” Everyone nods. “All right, it’s gonna be a tight squeeze in the back, so I apologize about that. But this one,” he glances at me, “is up front with me.” I try and fail to fight the heat crawling up my skin.

Harper waves her hand, smiling widely. “I think we’ll survive.” Sloan and Roman have matching grins, and I avoid eye contact at all costs as we move towards the car.

Jackson opens my door, puts the seat back and holds his hand out. “Up and at it.”

He watches me with bright eyes. They’re lighter as the late sun hits them, more like the light blue of shallow ocean water instead of the deep sea.

I place my hand in his and climb up into the seat. My entire body warms at the brief contact, and I try to steer my mind away from thinking about all the other places I want his hands. Cupping my cheeks, or on my waist, or his fingers lazily running over my spine again.

I am in big trouble.

He climbs in and lets his sunglasses fall over his eyes. He takes a second to adjust his seat for the three in the back and lets his phone connect to the Bluetooth. The cool air pumping from the vents contrasts with the heat of the mid-July sun that flows in through the roof and open windows. He pulls off into the traffic, which isn’t too bad for a late Thursday evening. Hopefully we got off earlier than the other beachgoers and won’t hit too much traffic.

I sneak a look back at Sloan, who is contently leaning in the open window, and Harper, who is leaned towards Roman’s lanky body and showing him something on her phone, both locked into their own little world. As the first strums of a guitar come out of the speakers, I sneak a look a Jackson, who is already looking at me as he turns up the dial a little. The ring on his middle finger shimmers in the sun creeping through the window.

“Country?”

His dimples appear. “I made this playlist just for you. Hopefully you won’t hate these.”

My heart careens. We’ve talked about music so much, and he knows I’m not the biggest fan of country, that most times I hate it. He promised he’d make me a special playlist of ones he thought I might like, but I didn’t believe him.

In the past, I’d been made promises by Myles, and none of them were ever followed through.

“On a scale of one to ten, how country is it?” I ask him, adjusting so I’m sitting on my left leg and leaning on the center console as the wind breezes through.

Jackson laughs loudly, and the sound hits me deep in my stomach. “I’d say it’s a solid six, but it might be a seven sometimes,” he says, shifting into the next gear as we start to venture out of the crowded city.