Jackson's Girl: Being His Duology

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Jackson's Girl: Being His Duology Page 7

by Charlie R. Love

Grant motioned for me to move over before he tugged the blanket and wrapped it around himself as well. “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” I answered sharply. “What do you think happen?”

  Grant shrugged. “I don’t think anything. And you know I will always believe you. If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened.”

  “I was supposed to be on a date with Ethan.” I could feel my cheeks burning as humiliation over how he had so easily ditched me set in once again. “He left before we even ordered our drinks.”

  Grant tensed from my words, but he stayed silent as he listened to me tell him everything that happened.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you finally kick Ethan to the curb. But are you sure you want to get into this thing with Jackson?”

  “Yes.” I grabbed his hand from under the blanket and squeezed. “Yes,” I said again, a little stronger than before. “He treats me like… like he can’t believe I’m actually real. He makes me feel special. Like I matter. It feels good to have someone treat you like that. To value everything I can give him and respect what I can’t.”

  He relaxed against me before wrapping his arms around me and nodded. “Okay. I’m happy for you. Just… just make sure you’re not rushing into this, okay?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good. So do you need a ride to work today? We can hang out and then I’ll drive us to work in the evening.”

  I bit my lips and looked away. “Um, well, I already told Jackson I would hang out with him today.”

  “Jesus, he moves fast.”

  I playfully shoved him away, a small smile threating to form. “Shut up.”

  “Okay, okay. I guess I should leave and let you get ready.” He tightened his arms around me, and I shot him a small smile. “Call me if you need anything.”

  I nodded and watched him walk out of the room.

  I got out the door at noon and waited for Jackson to arrive on my front porch. I was surprised to see his car pulling up as I closed the door behind me.

  I was also surprised to see that not only did he not arrived late, but he was here at least five minutes earlier than when he told me he would be here.

  With a small wave, I walked over to his car and got in the passenger seat before he could get out.

  Jackson was frowning when I turned to him. “What?” I asked.

  “I could have met you at your door. You didn’t need to wait for me out here. It’s cold.”

  I eyed the dark blue T-shirt he had on, to the heat on in his car. He had it on high. “You’re not cold?”

  He shook his head. “But I know you get cold easily.”

  I nodded once and faced forward. It wasn’t until he drove away from my neighborhood that I said, “Thank you.”

  He grunted in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. We drove in comfortable silence. That was until he turned into an unfamiliar road and I realized I had no idea where we were going or what we were doing.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To my house,” he answered casually.

  “Uh… What?”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, my parents aren’t home. It’ll just be you and me.”

  “Uh… What?” Various scenarios of being alone with Jackson in his house popped unbidden in my head. Each and every single one of them too dirty to be said out loud.

  I was sure he could read the blush on my face well. Especially when he laughed and took hold of my hand balled up in a fist on my lap.

  “Emily, what’s going on in that wonderful head of yours? You’re beautiful when you blush, by the way.”

  “Uh…” Wait. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Hmmm.” He brought my hand up to his lips, giving it a tender kiss, and I swore, it was the best kiss I had ever receive. “You’re beautiful. I don’t know how you can even question that.” The back of my hand tingled where his lips had touched, as he spoke softly against the skin there.

  Then he moved until our hands were entwined by the console. I liked the arrangement very much. Ten minutes later, we drove into a gated community with houses that were in a whole other world compared to my dad’s modest home.

  It was as ostentatious as it was big.

  “You live here?” I asked.

  For his part, Jackson seemed slightly embarrassed by all the wealth that surrounded him. “Yeah,” he answered gruffly. “My parents aren’t really known for being inconspicuous. Normally, I don’t bring anyone over, but with all the talks, I figured you wouldn’t want to be out and about in public today.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure if it was considerate on his part or shame. “Do you not want people to know about us?” Was there even an ‘us?’

  Jackson’s hand tightened around mine briefly. “Of course I want people to know. Hell, I want to scream it to the world so that there is no mistake that you are mine.”

  I was his.

  I bit my bottom lips to keep from smiling too widely.

  “But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you want to go somewhere else, all you got to do is say so. We can do whatever you want today.”

  My throat went dry. I coughed a few times before saying, “No, this is fine. Besides, I kind of want to see your room.”

  “It’s a good thing I cleaned it this morning.”

  I laughed, and for the first time in the day, I relaxed.

  Jackson pulled in the driveway of a large three story house. “Are you an only child?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yup, just me and the folks.”

  It was an awful lot of space for just three people. Jackson put the car in park, and then he turned to me, pushing me gently until my back was against the car seat cushion. “Stay,” he commanded softly.

  Getting out the car, he ran to the passenger seat and opened the door, helping me out. “I could have done that,” I said.

  “Uh-ah. Remember what I said last night?”

  He said a lot of things last night. “Humor you?”

  “Yes,” he said, leading me to the front door. When he opened it and set the alarm, I couldn’t help but notice all the things that were different from his life to mine. He didn’t seem to be lacking in anything.

  His house was beautiful. But I would never have imagined that it was the kind of house he grew up in. Everything was modern and purposely place for aesthetic viewing. It all seemed so cold and clinical, with black, white, and a hint of red here and there being the primary colors of the house.

  The front door led us into a living room with leather couched lined up adjacent to each other against the wall and in the center, a huge glass coffee table.

  Up against the opposite wall of one of the couches was an electric fireplace, and even that seemed more for display than actual uses. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jackson told me that fireplace had never been turned on.

  “This way.” He pulled me along without a tour and into an enormous kitchen that had to be double in size compared to my bedroom.

  Steel appliances and a large silver fridge that looked big enough for a closet. There was a garden window above the stove that showcase an equally impressive backyard. Everything in his house was enough to intimidate me back into a small corner. I looked to Jackson and found him rummaging through the fridge, set about pulling out all the ingredients and setting them down on the large gray-blue granite island that took up the center of the room. “We are going to cook our own lunch,” he explained.

  “You might want to rethink that. I don’t really know how to cook.”

  “Lucky you have me.” He pointed to himself before turning me around and directing me in front of a cutting board filled with bell peppers of all colors. “Start chopping, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear and giving my nose a gentle tap. I hesitated for a moment as I watched him move to the sink where the chicken breast laid.

  Cooking with Jackson was surprisingly easy and fun.

  He was direct and patient, and I soon found myself getting into the rhythm of p
reparing a meal I had never cooked before.

  “Why did you learn to cook?” I asked him as we carried our own plate out to the family room. It was set out at the back of the house, where an impressive TV stand stood, with a large comfortable looking sectional sofa in front of it. Taking Jackson lead, I sat down and balanced my plate on my knees, trying to find a comfortable position without spilling the food.

  He grabbed the remote on the coffee table and turned the TV on, setting the volume on low. Then he stared at me from where I sat, at the other end of the sofa, and frowned.

  Letting out a sigh of exaggerated annoyance, he stood up and walked over to me, sitting down so close to me, our shoulders touched. “Much better,” he said, handing me a silver fork. “Eat up.”

  I took it from his hand and dug in the Cajun Chicken Pasta. It was good. Jackson was an excellent cook, which reminded me that he hadn’t answered my question. I turned to him expectantly.

  “I like the control I get from cooking.”

  I raised an eyebrow. It was not the answer I was expecting. “Control?” Did he feel out of control in his life? I knew the feeling well. “You’re very good at it.”

  He smiled. “Thank you. I’m glad you like the food. All you have to do is say it, and I’ll cook for you every day.”

  I turned to face forward, looking down at my food, a small smile curving the corners of my lips. I could hear the TV in the background, though I wasn’t really paying attention.

  “Why do you do that?” Jackson asked suddenly.

  I paused mid-chew and looked back to him. “Do what?” I asked after I swallowed.

  “Hide your smile.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You do,” he interrupted, putting down his plate on the cherry wood coffee table.

  Pulling me to him, he cupped my cheek and tilted my face upwards until I was left with little choice but to look at him. “You have a beautiful smile, Emily. Please don’t hide it from me.”

  “Okay,” I said softly. Perhaps I had been unconsciously hiding my smile. But I had never spent time with someone who made me smile as much as he did, aside from Grant. But Grant was Grant. There wasn’t anyone I was more comfortable around, though I had a feeling that given enough time, Jackson could become the most important person in my life.

  Somehow in the span of the moment when I answered him to when I took my next breath, Jackson had gotten closer than before, his nose almost touching mine.

  I looked into his eyes, seeing the golden brown flecks reflect against the shining sun through the opened window next to us.

  “Jackson,” I said his name like it was a question and answer all rolled up into one. Maybe it was.

  He leaned in a little more, and my breath caught. I closed my eyes and waited. I had never felt so nervous over a kiss before, but there was something about him, something that, as limited as my experience was when it came to dating, it couldn’t possibly be compared to having him share the same breath as me.

  His phone ringing brought us out of the moment and back to reality. I opened my eyes in time to see him closed his in frustration.

  “I can ignore that,” he said.

  I shook my head. “No, get it. It could be important.” The moment was effectively ruined. I pulled away from him and looked to the TV. I wasn’t even sure why it was on when neither of us had paid much attention to it. But it did make for a great distraction.

  “Yeah?” Jackson answered the phone curtly. There was a paused as he listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying. His lips tilted up in that half smirk I was beginning to love before he answered, “Cool. I’ll be there.” He looked to me and covered the receiver with one hand. “Are you working tonight?” he asked me. I nodded.

  He seemed both relieved and disappointed before turning back to the phone call. I didn’t know how to feel about that. “Okay, see you.”

  He hung up and then it was us again. Jackson picked up his plate and resumed eating. I waited after a few tensed moments before asking, “If you grew up like this, why do fight?”

  “You heard that, huh?” I nodded. I didn’t catch the whole phone conversation, just bits and pieces, but enough to know it was Aiden on the phone and he had a fight coming up.

  “I don’t fight for the money, though it does come in handy.” He absently played with his food. “It’s the only way I know how to release all this energy I have built up in me.”

  “You can’t join a gym or something?”

  “You’re cute,” he said.

  “Um… thank you?”

  He was smiling, but this smile was different. I was sure he was laughing at me. Not cruelly, though. “You’re welcome.” Taking a bite of his food, he closed the gap between us once again, until our thigh touched, and I could feel a bolt of electricity make its way around my body.

  “It’s the only thing that works so far, though I’m starting to see that being with you is another thrill I am quickly becoming addicted to.”

  “I like being with you, too,” I said quietly. And it was the truth. Being with him felt good, safe. Almost as if, by being by his side, nothing would ever get to me. He made me feel invincible.

  “How did you know about the fights, anyway?” he asked curiously. “You’ve never been, have you?”

  His jaw was set in a hard line as he stared at something past my shoulder. “You don’t like the idea of me being there?” I sounded hurt. I was hurt.

  “It’s not what you think. It’s just… the people there, they’re kind of rough. And it usually involves alcohol and drugs being pass around.” He looked down at me, his eyebrows pulling together in a small frown, leaving a small skin indention between them. “You’re so small. I hate the thought of you being there, and no one else is around to take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know that,” he said. “I know you can. I just don’t like the thought very much.”

  “What? Of me taking care of myself?” I would have laughed if he didn’t look so serious when he nodded.

  “I would like to be the one to take care of you.” With one hand holding the plate, the other he used to hold my hand. “Your hand looks so small in mine.” He turned it over and played with the skin at the back of it with his thumb. “You would let me take care of you, won’t you Emily?”

  I didn’t know what to say. It was such a foreign concept to me, to leave myself in someone else’s care. To be that vulnerable to someone I barely knew. But I found myself nodding anyway, found myself trusting him with… with everything.

  6

  Past: Emily

  We cleaned up after we were finished eating. Then I followed Jackson upstairs to his room, trying hard to pretend that I wasn’t nervous.

  He would look back at me every once in a while on the way up, and when I met his eyes, he smiled as if he’d won the lottery.

  We bypassed a few rooms down a narrowed hallway, passing several family pictures of Jackson and his family posing together.

  It made me sad to realized that there was nothing warm about the poses either. They were more like strangers taking pictures together than family.

  It seemed, his family and mine weren’t so different after all.

  The room at the end of the hallway was closed, and when Jackson opened it, my eyes were immediately assaulted by the sunlight coming in from the curtain-less floor to ceiling window.

  When my eyes adjusted, I looked around the room, finding the big king size bed to take up dominance in the already huge room, along with a desk in the far corner, facing away from the window.

  There wasn’t anything personal in the room. It could have belonged to anyone.

  To the left of the bed, however, stood an impressive bookshelf, coming up to the ceiling, each row filled with books in all shapes and size.

  That was the first place I walked to. I nodded in approval when I read some of the titles and found it to vary in different genre. From fiction to horror to the clas
sics. Looking around the room again, I could see books all over the place, some scattered on the floor, stacked neatly against the wall, some on his desk, along with his laptop, and one on his bed.

  When I looked back to Jackson, who was standing in the middle of the room, I found he was already staring at me.

  “I like the books,” I commented after a few awkward silence. My limbs felt unnatural all the sudden, especially under his gaze, as if I couldn’t walk, couldn’t move quite right. And when he walked over to me, my pose felt forced.

  “Relax,” he murmured softly in my ears. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his chest. “It’s just you and me. And I just want to hold you until we have to drive back for your work, okay?”

  I nodded against his chest, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, resting my weight on him.

  He was so strong, so sure. I didn’t have to worry about falling when he was holding me like that.

  He brought us over to the bed and laid me down on top of him. Settling the sheets over us, he then guided my head back to his chest, where I buried my face there, inhaling in the comforts of his scent.

  He rubbed soothing circles on the small of my back, and like that, I fell into the best sleep of my life.

  We stopped at my house so that I could get ready for work.

  Opening the front door, I hoped it wasn’t a mistake inviting him in. My house compared to his was like a molehill compared to a mountain. But Jackson didn’t seem to look around the house in disgust or belittlement.

  More curious. And when I invited him into my room, the half smirk that he was known for was back on his face, wreaking havoc on my heart rate.

  “I like your room,” he said, looking around in the same way I had when I was in his room. His eyes roamed about, taking in the bland white walls to the lavender colored curtains, to the hideous dark green carpet, and finally stopping on my twin size bed with bright yellow beddings.

  “Thanks,” I answered awkwardly. Things had been awkward between us since Jackson woke me up in his arms. At least, they were awkward for me. Jackson, on the other hand, seemed at ease, like he always did.

 

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