Mine Would Be You (36)

And I think Jackson likes it that I’m touching him, even innocently, because whenever I circle my thumb or move my hand even slightly, he sends me a deep gaze that sends sparks over my entire body.

But my hand falls when Jackson reaches for his phone, turning up the volume. “I love this song,” he says and grabs my drink and places it in the sand upright. “Come on, we’re dancing.”

My heart stops for a second as my eyes flicker over the group. Roman is currently attempting to get Harper to dance, obnoxiously swaying their hands back and forth until she laughs. My eyes flicker to Sloan, who just leans back with her new friends and nods encouragingly. Even Emma smiles softly, pulling Myles up and into their own dance, unaware of the fleeting, cold look he throws my way.

I turn away from him and give in to Jackson, wrapping both my arms around Jackson’s torso and slipping my hands under his shirt again. He lifts his cheek from the top of my head as I do, giving me a soft smile, and we’re not really dancing as much as just swaying, but I don’t mind.

I brush my thumb over his smooth skin, right above the band of his shorts, and I feel the vibrations of his soft laugh. “Why are you laughing at me?” I mumble into his chest, where my head rests.

“I’m not, really. It’s just, you’re a touchy drunk. I like it, a lot,” he mumbles, his mouth closer to me so I can hear him. His lips brush the shell of my ear, and I can’t help but shiver.

“I’m not drunk.”

He snorts. “You’ve barely touched me at all, and now suddenly I’m a hot commodity? I’m not complaining, believe me, but you’re drunk. At least a little.”

I lift my head up, but the action makes his blue eyes spin, so I close them and rest my head back on his chest. “Maybe I am and maybe I am not.” I hiccup. “But touching and all that, it just makes me uncomfortable sometimes.”

“Nina, I’ve barely stopped touching you since we met. Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” He asks, and he sounds serious, but his words are being jumbled by the alcohol.

With no inhibitions, I answer him honestly as my hands spread out on his back.

“I like it when you touch me, Jackson.”

For a second, briefly, I feel his heartbeat speed up through his shirt right where my head is, and I like that I did that. I affected him. Because he affects me in ways I haven’t felt in years, but also in new ways, ways I’ve never felt. I don’t voice these to him, mostly because I’m scared, but I think I’m getting better. Or I’m trying at least.

Because I do want him to know I like when he touches me; it wakes me up, burns me in the best way. Or when he looks at me with those dark blue eyes that can be as light as crashing waves or as dark as the midnight sky, I can’t think about anything else.

I look up when he still hasn’t answered, and I’m shocked when I see a tinge of pink on his tan cheeks.

“Are you blushing?” I say, and I can’t stop smiling. “I got you to blush. This is like a power trip, I love this feeling. So, so much.”

He pinches my side gently, causing me to squirm. “We don’t speak of this.”

“But I like it.” Hiccup. I mumble my next words into his chest, “Es lindo, eres lindo.” It’s cute, you’re cute. And I feel his warm gaze on me. If he understood, he gives no indication, so my secret is still safe with me. “But I’m hungry, can we go get a snack?”

Jackson leans back to look at me, a warm smile on his face. “Yes, any requests?”

“A grilled cheese? Is that possible? I really want a grilled cheese.”

The vibrations of his chuckle thrum against my body. “If it’s a grilled cheese you want, it’s a grilled cheese you shall get.”

I push back a bit, dancing back and forth on my feet. “Really? You’d make that for me?”

Both dimples appear. “Yes, for you.” I nod excitedly and grab my drink from the sand as he grabs his phone. “We’ll be back. You guys good out here?” he asks, and everyone nods, and I’m just thankful I don’t feel Myles heavy gaze on me.

“Piggyback ride?” I ask, hiccupping as I grip my drink and phone in hand, and instead of answering, Jackson just takes my drink and sets it down, before holding out his arms. I climb up, and he hands me my drink. I take a long sip and hold it to him. “Want some?”

He squeezes my leg where he holds it after he takes a sip. “How much tequila have you had?”

I lean down, resting my head on his shoulder as he starts walking again. “Probably too much.”

Jackson carries me up the small dune in the darkness until the light on the porch appears and casts a soft glow over the sand. He climbs the stairs easily and pushes open the French double doors, turning on only the light above the stove, leaving us in a warm glow. Easily, he sets me down on the island countertop, where I happily swing my feet, hiccups still racking my chest. Every time they do, Jackson sends me an amused glance.

I watch as Jackson moves easily around the kitchen, pulling out the bread and the various cheeses, butter, and water. He pours a large glass of it before doing anything else and hands it to me.

“Drink up.” He crosses his arms, leaving no room for debate, and I oblige, downing the entire thing. To my chagrin, he just refills it but places it next to me this time.

The smell of butter melting fills the kitchen, and I sip the water slowly. “I have an idea.”