by Beck, J. L.
“You should be used to this position, facing away from me…” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because, thank you, Lord, Mrs. Jarrid interrupts him.
“Excuse me, Jackson, is there a reason you keep interrupting my class?”
“Uhh, no.”
“Well, you’ve been warned in the past about talking when I’m talking, and since you can’t seem to follow simple instructions, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jackson huffs with disbelief, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my grin. Finally, somebody puts him in his place.
“Nope, not kidding. Get out of my class, and only come back if you’re going to take it seriously. I’m not a babysitter.”
Jackson slams his hand down on the table, making me jump. Then I hear him shoving stuff in his bag and cursing under his breath. He’s pissed. I know it without even looking at him. I watch, holding my breath as he walks out of the room, the door closing behind him.
“Now, where were we?” Mrs. Jarrid starts again, and I smile, feeling like I can finally breathe. A calmness washes over me, and I spend the rest of the class focusing on every word she says. Eventually, class comes to an end, and we’re dismissed. Packing up my things slowly, I can only hope that Jackson has disappeared.
Turns out, luck isn’t on my side because as soon as I walk out the door, I find him leaning against the wall, talking to another girl. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and laughs at something he says. His green eyes find mine, and I can see the fiery rage in them. He’s trying to hurt me, and even though I don’t want to admit it, it hurts to see him with someone else. I drop my gaze but still watch him out of the corner of my eye as he takes her hand in his, and they walk off somewhere. He doesn’t hold my hand. He doesn’t even look at me when we have sex.
An ugly feeling floods my veins… jealousy. I know I have no claim on Jackson. All along, I knew very well that this was nothing but sex for him. He wants nothing but revenge. He wants to hurt me in any way he can without physically touching me.
I knew all of this, and yet seeing him with another girl has my heart aching and my stomach-churning. I can handle him hating me, punishing me, even using me. But I can’t handle this. I can’t handle being one of his many girls, his second choice at best. The thought of him having sex with someone only hours before he has sex with me… I can’t do it. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I feel the need to vomit away.
I’m such an idiot, letting my feelings get involved. Who am I kidding? My feelings were part of this all along. It’s his feelings that are absent. He uses me, and I need to keep reminding myself of that.
Yes, he makes me come, and it’s amazing, but that’s all he’ll ever give me. An orgasm and heartache. When we have sex, I forget everything around me, I forget who we are and what we are doing. For some stupid reason, I was holding on to this part of us, thinking maybe something might change. Only now do I realize how special those brief moments were to me because, for some stupid reason, I felt like they were special to him as well.
Oh, how wrong I was. Now, my eyes are open, and I know I have to end this. I have to tell him no. I just don’t know how to end this without disappearing altogether.
17
Jackson
Where the fuck is she? It’s been three days, and I haven’t seen her since our creative writing class. I went to her apartment, almost kicked in the door, but then decided asking the landlord to open it for me was the better choice. As I suspected, she wasn’t there.
Gone, just fucking gone. Poof.
I went to each of her classes, asked the teachers, even other students… nothing. No one has seen or heard from her in three days. Three days. What if something happened to her? Someone touched her, or hurt her? Fuck. I’m going crazy just thinking about it. I tell myself I’m only worried because who will I torment if I don’t have her, but I know it’s deeper than that. I just don’t want to acknowledge it.
Facing the fact that there is only one thing left to do. My last resort. I get out my phone and dial the number I haven’t dialed in two years. I never thought I would ever call her house again. Of course, I never thought I would be fucking her either. I deleted the number the day Jillian died, but the truth is I memorized it years ago, and I’m pretty sure it will forever be etched into my mind.
For a brief second, I’m taken back in time.
“Can you please call Kennedy for me?” Jillian yells from the Jack and Jill bathroom that we share.
“Why can’t you do it?” I groan, tugging my cell phone out of my pocket.
Jillian pops her head into my room, half of her hair is curled, and the other is stick straight. “Because unlike you, who can just show up somewhere, I have to make myself look presentable, so please, call her and ask her what time she’s coming over.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Not that I really have a problem with calling Kennedy. It’s just thinking about her ruins my mojo for the night. I want to go on a date and not think about what my best friend, who I secretly want to bang, might be doing.
Hitting the call button on Kennedy’s number, I listen as ringing fills the line, a second later, Kennedy’s soft voice fills my ear.
“Hey, Jackson,” she purrs, and I swear I feel the sound in my cock.
“Hey, Junebug, Jillian wants to know what time you’ll be over?”
“Mmm, maybe like eight.” I can see her forehead wrinkling as she thinks. God, she’s so beautiful. I just need to get the balls to tell her I want more, but then there is the thing with her being both Jillian and my friend. It’ll never work.
“Perfect. I’ll tell her.”
“Are you… are you coming tonight?” Kennedy asks with hesitation in her voice.
“Nah, I’ve got a date, but Ty will be there, and he said that he’ll watch you guys for me.”
“Oh, okay.” Her voice falls flat, and it sounds like she’s disappointed.
“You know you can call me if you need anything. I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, of course, no worries. I hope you have fun on your date.” The cheer returns to her voice, and I wonder if maybe I should skip the date and hang out with them. I’d have a better time anyway.
“I will, but not as much fun as you and Jill will have tonight. Be safe, okay, bug?”
“Always.”
We hang up, and something in my chest tells me to go with them, but I chalk it up to my feelings over Kennedy. I can’t have her, and that’s making me go a little wild.
“What did she say?” my sister yells as if she’s miles away.
“Jesus, stop yelling. She said she’d be here around eight.”
“Yay!” She squeals, making me place my hands over my ears or risk going deaf.
Just like that, I’m tossed from the memory and back into reality. It steals the air from my lungs and reminds me of a time when I was so carefree, and nothing could get me or keep me down. I hate it. Hate remembering a time when Kennedy was all I could ever want.
It’s already late, almost ten, I might wake them up, but I don’t really care. No way I’m waiting until tomorrow. Pressing the green call button, I put the phone to my ear and listen to the dial tone. A moment later, Kennedy’s mom answers the phone with a cheerful hello.
“It’s Jackson,” I growl into the phone.
“Oh,” is all she says.
“Is Kennedy there?” I try to keep my voice casual, but I’m pretty sure she hears how difficult this call is for me.
It takes her a few seconds to answer, my guess is she’s probably as shocked about me calling as I am. Oh, the things I fucking do for you, bug.
“No, why would she be here?” Worry overtakes her shocked tone. Fuck, this isn’t what I wanted to deal with, but without knowing where Kennedy is, that worry could be very real. “She’s at Blackthorn. Isn’t she?”
“No one has seen her in three days,” I explain. “I thought she might have taken a trip home or something.”
“O
h, my god, no.” She sounds frantic at this point, and her worry is starting to spread over to me. “She hasn’t been here, hasn’t called either. Hold on, let me check something real quick.”
I listen to the phone being set down, followed by some typing on a computer. A few moments later, she comes back on the line, her voice a little calmer now, or at least more composed.
“I just checked her credit card statement. She used her card to check into a hotel in town.”
Relief washes over me, making me face the reality of how worried I was about her. “What hotel?”
“The Dunham Inn.”
“I know where that is. I’ll go check on her, and if there’s a problem, I’ll give you a call.”
“Really? You would do that?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell her to call you later too.” I hang up the phone, grab my car keys, and head out the door.
On my way to the hotel, some of the relief I felt has already morphed back into anger. What the fuck was she thinking just taking off like that? Hiding out in some hotel? Was this her way of fighting back?
Or maybe she truly was jealous over seeing me with Crystal the other day? If I cared about her feelings, I would tell her Crystal was no one to me, that the second we rounded the corner, I pushed her away. That I even told her to leave me alone, but I’m not about to reveal that fact just to make her feel better.
Flirting with Crystal was only to hurt her feelings. I didn’t really think she would be jealous and only hoped to show her that she meant nothing to me. That I could have anyone I wanted, that she wasn’t anything special. Mainly, I did it to piss her off, not to run her out of school. Twenty minutes later, I pull up to the hotel and hand my keys to the valet. Walking into the lobby, I’m happy to see a young woman behind the reception counter. That’s going to make all of this go so much faster.
“Hello, do you have reservations with us?” she greets.
“Hi there.” I give her my most dazzling smile. “I’m actually already a guest. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced my key card. You wouldn’t be able to make me another one, would you?” I follow up with some puppy dog eyes.
“Oh, sure, I think I could help.” She giggles and bats her eyelashes at me.
“The reservations were made under Meyers.”
“All I need is your ID and room number.”
“Well, the problem is my wallet is in the room… and I am terrible with numbers. I checked-in three days ago. You must have not been here that day, ’cause I sure as hell would remember someone as pretty as you.”
Her cheeks turn crimson red as she starts to type something on her laptop. I continue smiling, even though on the inside, I’m wishing for this to be over as soon as possible so I can get to Kennedy.
She pulls out a card and hands it to me. Giving me her best fuck me eyes, she says, “Here you go, Mr. Meyers. Room four-hundred-and-ten.”
“Thanks,” I snap, watching her face fall before taking the card from her finger. I spin around and head to the fourth floor. You can run my little bug, but you’ll never be able to hide from me.
18
Kennedy
You know that strange feeling you get when you’re sleeping, and you feel like someone’s watching you? But there isn’t any possible way that could really be happening. Not when you are locked inside a hotel room. No, that couldn’t happen. Unless you have someone like Jackson in your life.
Blinking my eyes open, I’ve barely woken up when I let out a screech at the shadow hovering over my bed. A hand comes out of nowhere and presses against my mouth, a moment before Jackson’s face comes into view. His gaze is hard, and I know instantly that I’m in trouble.
“I’m going to pull my hand away, and you’re going to tell me what the fuck you’re trying to prove by coming here?” The deep tone of his voice jolts my body awake, and my nipples harden against the thin material of my T-shirt, which, other than panties, is all I have on. Even with the blanket covering me, I feel so exposed and unprotected.
Pulling his hand away, he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at me like a disappointed father.
I suck in a breath. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Don’t worry about that. Worry about answering me,” he growls. He looks menacing, but I’m not scared of him.
I knew this moment would come. I knew he would find me eventually, but I didn’t count on it being in the middle of the night, so I didn’t prepare anything to say. What am I going to tell him? That I was jealous? He would love that. No way I’m giving him the satisfaction of knowing that. So, I say the first thing I can think of instead.
“I don’t want to catch any diseases from you. If you make it a habit of sleeping around without a condom, then I’m not going to be one of your girls.”
Jackson stares at me for a split second before tipping his head back and laughing. He’s actually freaking laughing. A sound I haven’t heard in a very long time, and if it wasn’t for the situation, I might actually enjoy hearing it.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, bug. Now be a good girl and take that shirt off. I didn’t come here to talk.”
Of course, he didn’t. Like I would actually believe that he came here to make sure I was okay. That he was worried about me.
“I’m not having sex with you.” I stand my ground, clutching onto the blanket in front of me. “Get out.” I point to the door. I’m done being his whipping post. Done. I’m not doing this anymore.
“No. I didn’t come all the way here just so I could turn around and go back home. I’m not leaving. At least not until I get a piece of you.”
Wrinkling my nose at him, I reply, “Then get comfortable on the floor because I’m not sleeping with you.”
He tilts his head to the side and raises his eyebrows like he is examining me, ready to test my limits. He’s going to push me, see how far he can bend me before I snap.
“I’ll tell you what. Either sex or you let me see your thighs. Which one is it going to be?”
Shaking my head furiously, strands of my blonde hair whip across my face. How did this escalate so quickly?
“No… no to both.”
I know the answer between those two choices. I would rather have sex with him than let him see, but I refuse to give in. I won’t let him bully me into this. He needs to leave.
“Choose, Kennedy!” he yells, his eyes piercing my soul.
“No!” Clutching the blanket to my chest, I start to scoot away from him, but I don’t get far before he’s on me. Grabbing the edge of the blanket, he tugs, ripping the only protection I have from him away. Like an animal that’s wounded, my eyes dart around the room, looking for a place to hide. He can’t see my scars, he can’t. He’ll use them against me, hurt me more.
I won’t give him any more ammunition than he already has. I’m tired of giving him a loaded gun and expecting him not to shoot me in the heart.
With the blanket gone, I push up onto my knees and dart across the bed, but of course, Jackson anticipates the move and latches onto my ankle with his hand.
“Let me go!” I yell, my voice cracking.
He’s going to find out and ruin everything. He’s going to break me for the last time. Using my free leg, I kick at him, trying to get him to release my leg, but every hit reminds me of how strong he is.
“Give it up, Kennedy. Let me see what your secret is,” he taunts and flips me over onto my back. Pushing up onto my elbows, I panic and lift my leg to kick him, but he tugs me to the edge of the bed, causing me to fall flat on my back again. Before I can recover, he presses his entire weight down on me. Trapping my body beneath his.
“Sex! I choose sex!” I yell out because anything is better than this.
“It’s too late to choose.”
“Please, Jackson, please…” I beg like I’ve never begged before, my heart jackhammering inside my chest. I’m barely breathing, my lungs refusing to fill with air. Any second now, he’s going to find out. He’s going to see t
he jagged scars, and everything is going to be over.
My plea reaches his ears, and a look of indifference flicks across his face, but he doesn’t get up. Instead, he moves my hands into one of his own and holds them to my chest while he uses his body to hold me in place. His other hand disappears between our bodies, and then I feel it.
His fingers against my thigh. Touching the scars, tracing them.
I freeze as if I’m stuck in quicksand, and every movement sinks me deeper into the ground. Tears leak from my eyes and down my cheeks. I shiver, knowing the inevitable is going to happen. I can’t stop him. Even if it doesn’t happen today, it’ll happen eventually. What’s the point of fighting him?
Feeling utterly defeated, I go limp in his arms. His eyebrows pinch together in confusion as he lifts his body off of mine and parts my thighs. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, trying to defuse the panic that’s claiming every cell of my body.
His breathing changes, and I cringe when I feel his gentle touch on my mutilated skin. He’s inspecting them now, the rough edge of his finger traces each line.
“Who did this to you?” the words come out in a rough whisper, and I wonder if he meant to even ask the question. I don’t respond, my throat too tight with fear. Everything is going to fall apart now. He knows… god, he knows.
A heartbeat passes, and another, and then I feel his hand against my cheek. His touch is gentle like a wave caressing the edge of a beach.
“Who did this to you, Kennedy? Who hurt you?” The vulnerability in his voice has my eyes flicking open without right or reason. Through my blurry vision, I look up at him. He looks like a piece of glass hanging on the edge of something. His sharp edges will cut me deeper than any self-inflicted wound if I let them.
“Kennedy. I’m trying really hard not to lose my shit, so tell me who did this to you so I can beat the fuck out of them.” His jaw pops, and I know he isn’t lying. He pulls away, and I shiver at the cold that rushes through me at the loss of contact.