“I have something I wanted to show you,” Jackson said. Without loosening his arm from around me, he leaned over and grabbed an envelope from his night stand, handing it to me. I took the paper out and unfolded it, my eyes scanning the neatly typed letter.
“Seriously?” I said. My gaze shifted from the letter and up to Jackson’s face. He shrugged.
“I haven’t told anyone else because I wasn’t sure what to do with it.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know what to do with it?” I sat up, folding the paper and sticking it back into the envelope. “Jackson, you got accepted into Harvard Law?” I dropped the envelope and embraced him, a flood of emotions washing over me as I held him. “I’m so proud of you,” I murmured. “You have no idea.”
“When we met a few months ago, did you have any idea that we’d be here?” Jackson asked, meeting my gaze, those beautiful amber eyes reading me like an open book. I shook my head and took a deep breath. I couldn’t let the floodgates of emotion open, or I’d never get them closed again.
“What happens now?” I said. “Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.” Jackson took my hand and held it, a sensation that I knew would never, ever stop giving me that warm feeling deep in my soul.
After a few moments, I leaned into him, pressing my lips lightly against his. I knew he was holding back, being careful, and it was because he didn’t want to rattle me or upset me even more than Tyler already had. But there was no way he could do that. Not now.
Jackson’s fingers slipped the button of my jeans loose. My hips moved automatically towards him, practically begging for another touch—another feel—of pure ecstasy. I reached one hand behind his head and tangled my fingers in his hair, forcing his lips apart with my own. I wanted to take charge now; I wanted to be the girl that wasn’t frightened, wasn’t scared, of intimacy.
Jackson groaned softly, and every nerve ending in my body seemed to light up with a spark, egging me on. I placed my palm on his chest, the feel of his skin hot beneath my touch. He parted his lips for mine, eyes closed, body responding in such a way I was momentarily caught off guard—but only because I had never known myself to be able to get a reaction like that from another being. And not just any other being, but a man—a man who I was suddenly and unequivocally desperate to have.
Jackson kicked his pants off and I slipped my hand down to grip his penis, so hungry for him that I could barely stand it. My fingers moved up and down his shaft as he pulled my shirt over my head and unclasped my bra, leaning down to tease one bare nipple with his teeth. I kicked off my own pants, my body forming around his, hand teasing the hard-on he pressed against my groin. He kissed me, slipping his tongue between my lips, and his hands caught both of my wrists, forcing them above my head as he continued to kiss my neck, then my chest. When he released his hold on me, I reached over for a condom from the dresser and tore the foil, then leaned forward and shimmied it over his penis, tracing the sensitive skin with my fingers as I did so. Then, I leaned back onto the bed and pulled him back down with me.
It was a matter of moments Jackson's body pressed into mine, sliding into me. I let out a quiet gasp of pleasure, still amazed by how good it felt even now, even after we’d already done this. The excitement didn't go away. If anything, the pleasure only sharpened. I simply couldn’t imagine that anything could be better than this.
I moved my hips in sync with his thrusts, biting my lip to keep from losing it after every soft movement. Jackson smelled good, a tiny hint of aftershave mixed with the lingering scent of cigarette smoke from the party. He slowed his pace for a moment to shower kisses down my neck and breasts, his hands gently tracing my skin, nearly sending me over the edge. I lifted my head to search desperately for his mouth, drawing his chin towards my own as our lips met yet again. I raised my hips, pleading for him to go deeper. When he did, another small gasp escaped from my lungs, and I could feel the heat rise to my face and chest.
After a moment Jackson began to rock again, gently at first, and then harder and faster. I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out, but it was with the utmost pleasure. Once I had adapted to him fully inside of me, I, too, began to rock, keeping in sync with his body. It was a new experience with Jackson even the second time—a moment, or a feeling, that I hadn't felt or experienced before.
“Oh, God,” I groaned. I shivered with pleasure, panting, unsure of how much longer I could hold on. Jackson’s thrust became even quicker, burying himself in me, and that's all it took. Not even a few moments had passed as I felt my body let go, reaching the breaking point. I dropped my hands from his shoulders, exhausted, head swimming with ecstasy. Jackson slowed his pace, breathing heavy, and I realized that he, too, had climaxed. He bent his head down to kiss me. He was smiling, and it made me all the happier as he rolled gently off my body and settled into the mattress next to me.
“You're incredible,” Jackson said, and I scooted into him, allowing his arms to embrace and hold me. With him, I felt whole, as though he were this missing piece that had been gone for so long. With him, I was desirable.
“Thank you, Jackson,” I said after another few minutes. I slid my body towards his, resting my head on his chest, the palm of one hand on his stomach. He put one arm around me and squeezed, then kissed the top of my head. I closed my eyes, and he did the same.
“Thank you for what?” he asked.
“For everything,” I said. “Thank you for everything.”
I woke the next morning still intertwined in his arms, and I didn’t want to move, or breathe, in fear of shattering this perfect, dreamy moment. I had to pee, though, really bad, so I slipped out from under Jackson’s hold and tip-toed to the bathroom. He barely stirred.
I washed the old makeup from my face and stared at my reflection in Jackson’s bathroom, mirror. What I felt for this man was something I never even knew existed until now, and while it was exciting and beautiful and amazing it was also scary and terrifying, and even worse than that, it was unpredictable. That was the worst part of all.
Jackson had been accepted into one of the most prestigious Ivy League schools in the country, and there was no way in hell he was going to turn that down, not for any reason. I wouldn’t let him. But while my excitement for him was overwhelming, I didn’t want to face what was coming next. What would happen to us? He would go to Law school, say goodbye to Seattle and me and create his new life. Where would I be? I had no idea. There were two semesters left in our senior year, and that wasn’t enough time to be with him. All the time in the world didn’t seem like enough time.
In a mere two months, Jackson Tate had gone from an enemy to a lover. Now, I needed him. I needed him more than ever, but was that a possibility anymore? Seattle was a dot on a map of the universe. He would leave for law school soon, determined and eager to reach the goals he wanted to achieve. We’d hug at the airport, and he’d kiss my head as I cried into his shirt, making promises to see each other again soon, that this wasn’t over . . . and that would be that. I would never see him again. Not by choice, but by the act of life in general. He’d meet a woman, probably a fellow law student, and I’d meet someone, too. At that point, Jackson would be nothing more to me than the one that got away.
And there was no way in hell I could put myself through that.
I slipped out before Jackson woke and walked home. I felt like shit, not just physically, but emotionally. The urge I had to turn around and run back into his arms was overwhelming, but the urge to run was greater. It was always greater.
Chapter 52
Jackson
It wasn’t a pleasant feeling to wake up the next morning alone. When I opened my eyes, I looked down at once for Grace, but she was gone. I knew even before rolling out of bed to see if she was anywhere in the house that it wasn’t any use.
As I went to the kitchen for something to eat, I called her up, hoping it was something small, like she’d just wanted to shower at her place. She didn’t answer. Not a good
sign. That familiar ball of dread form in the pit of my stomach formed and ached. After last night, I’d assumed everything between us had finally gone right . . . I thought that was it; no more hurt, no more drama, just the two of us for as long as it took. Apparently, that was no longer the case, and I found myself wondering what in the hell to do next.
I felt like Grace and I were running in circles, dizzying ourselves with pain and fear and uncertainty. She was still so insecure, unwilling to let go, open up, and let me in. I was running out of ideas, however, and it was a scary thought to face that maybe, just maybe, she would never accept us and there was nothing in the world I could do about it.
I gathered my cell phone and a jacket to head to class, hoping I could come up with some idea to keep trying for her. When I opened my front door to leave, someone was standing there, fist raised and ready to knock. It was Alex. I took a surprised step back, suddenly trying to figure out what I’d done wrong to get her here.
“Hey,” she said. I assumed the fact that she didn’t tackle me with rage me was a good sign, so I nodded at her and took a step back, a silent gesture to beckon her in. Alex stepped into my apartment, looking more than slightly awkward as she looked around, unable to hold my gaze for too long.
“So, what’s up?” I asked, because Alex didn’t immediately start rambling. She looked at me and cleared her throat.
“Grace told me what happened last night,” she said. “At Tyler’s party. About you showing up.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Alex looked at the ground, and then back up at me. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, and for the first time since I’d met her, she seemed less confident than usual. Her calm demeanor was shaken. Doubt was etched in her features; her trust in my loyalty and friendship to Grace hovering between acceptance and suspicion. Her expression said everything, including the gnawing desire to keep on hating me but knowing that she was running out of reasons to.
“I know we’re not friends,” Alex said.
“And here I thought we were besties.” I chuckled mirthlessly, and she scoffed.
“Just listen to me, Jackson,” she said. “Grace . . . well, she seems to be pretty smitten with you.”
“Does she?” I asked, and suddenly I felt a bit annoyed. “Because she keeps bailing on me for no reason whatsoever, and I’m running out of ways to convince her that I’m not her dad.”
“Yeah, I know,” Alex said. She shrugged slightly. “She’s scared.”
“I know she is. But there’s no reason to be.”
“Jackson . . .” Alex trailed off momentarily, and then looked back up to meet my eyes. The deep-rooted hatred for me was temporarily gone, and in its place, I finally saw the compassion and love she had for her friend; her sister. Her ego had been set aside for a moment, and now I saw girl who had been through so much as a child, an orphan, and her goal in life now was to protect the only people she had left, the family she’d ever known. That was Grace.
“You don’t need to explain anything,” I told Alex. Truthfully, I just didn’t want her to start crying, or something, because I knew damn well I wasn’t as manly sometimes as I pretended to be.
“I know this has been hard,” Alex continued. “But following through is the best thing you can do for her. I know Grace. I know how she is. She’s testing you because she’s certain you’re going to hurt her, or leave. And while both you and I know that you won’t, she doesn’t.”
“What should I do?” I asked. “I can’t seem to make her happy, Alex.”
“You do make her happy,” Alex said. “Every damn day. She’s the only one who doesn’t see that.” She took a deep breath, sighing. “She needs you to love her. That’s all. Love her and never stop loving her.”
Chapter 53
Grace
Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.”
I never took that quote literally until now. It turns out Mr. King was wise beyond his years.
Self-pity is a dangerous game; I knew that all too well. I was not oblivious to the misfortunes and devastation still happening around the world, even when at times I wanted nothing more than to mope in my own sadness.
As a small child, I knew better than to let a man dictate my feelings. Bearing witness to my mother’s own reliance on men turned me off the desire to trust one. Her self-worth had at one time depended on my father, and I wanted never to experience that. Pain and depression seemed foreseeable in every circumstance. I’d been cynical around men my entire life, and now I’d found it had all been for an excellent reason. Pain is inevitable . . . the choices that lead to the pain, however, are not.
Pushing Jackson from my life was harder than I’d initially expected. I still struggled with admitting I’d fallen for someone so deeply and passionately. There was no solace in Alex’s words, even in her pleas to give it another chance. She urged me to open my soul to him and trust I wouldn’t be hurt. Even Shawn grudgingly admitted a few days later that I’d seemed happier when I was with Jackson. Because my pride was stronger than my self-pity, I disregarded their advice.
I hid the suffocating anguish the best I could, which wasn’t well, especially when Jackson’s name popped up on my phone multiple times a day. Even then, however, text messages stayed closed and unread, his desperate knocks on the door vindictively ignored. After about two weeks in, his calls, texts, and drop-ins were sporadic and became less and less.
I found during the loneliest nights that I’d wake each morning with a stiff, sore jaw from grinding my teeth, an anxious habit I’d acquired as a child, which hadn’t reared its ugly head again until now. My nails were bitten to the core, cuticles bleeding from the mindless nit-picking I’d inflicted. Clothes that had recently been too tight for me were now sliding on without a fight, even with room to spare.
While I still attended my classes religiously, I only ever left remembering less than a quarter of the lecture I’d just heard. I avoided every place on campus that Jackson for any reason could have been. I wanted to see him, to talk to him, to hold him, but deep down I knew that cutting him out entirely would save me the heartache in the long run. We couldn’t drag this out, we both knew better than that. Jackson deserved more than me, more than some girl with a trunk full of emotional baggage and anxiety issues. He was so self-assured, so open and vibrant, and I was the exact opposite. We weren’t compatible, and I think we both knew it, even if neither of us wanted to admit it.
Three weeks later, on a rainy Saturday evening, Alex and I decided to go to the last football game of the season. Well, she decided. It seemed to be Alex’s ploy to get me out of my pajamas and through the front door, and while I wasn’t pleased, I knew in this physical state I wouldn’t be able to take her. Shawn joined us, too, because I’d concluded that I couldn’t push people like him away anymore; not if I wanted anybody to stick around.
I pulled on some sweats so I could tighten the string around the waist (according to Alex, my ass was too flat now to even bother trying to wear jeans), and then I reached into the closet for a jacket, withdrawing a hoodie instead that was not by any means mine. It was a Seattle University Football hoodie that Jackson must have left behind. I raised the fabric to my nose and inhaled deeply, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. Before I could shed a tear over it, Alex was coming out of the bathroom all prepped and ready, and I couldn’t let myself break down in front of her. I threw the hoodie into the back of the closet, grabbed my own jacket, and followed her out the door.
The Mini Dome, an enormous indoor sport’s arena that boasted the size of two football fields, was brimming with cars and pedestrians. Inside and out was packed with hundreds and hundreds of college students from our school. The rivalry school was on the other side of the arena dressed in their colors and costumes. It was hot and stuffy around us as Alex and I waded through the crowd to find decent seats. We met Shawn there who already had mugs of beer and Styrofoam plates of nachos f
or us. Alex had convinced me to paint my face our school colors before leaving the house, just to show some school pride, and I told her I’d only do it if she did it, too. We both looked ridiculous, but we didn’t look any sillier than the hundreds of other students doing the same thing.
By halftime, The Bengals were up by fifteen points. The drill team in their flashy costumes sauntered out onto the field to do their halftime show. While I was glad we were winning, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes over the fact that Tyler was kicking ass. He’d stepped up in Jackson’s place and was playing damn well for an inconsiderate jerk.
As the drill team wrapped up their performance dance and made their way off the field, Alex and I bought another cup of beer and got to our feet to cheer for the last half of the game. We watched the team run back out onto the field, but before they could get into position, there was a loud squeal over the crowd of onlookers, the sharp sound of a microphone playback.
“Frick,” Alex said, poking one finger into her ear canal. Most the stadium went quiet as murmurs sifted through the crowd. Down below, on the field, a figure walked out to stand near the team. It was Jackson, and he was holding the microphone in his hand. He stopped a few feet in front of his old teammates and looked up at the stands of people.
“What on earth is he doing?” I asked Alex. My heart was racing now, unpleasantly fluttering against my chest. The entire crowd was staring at him. Some people were whispering while others shouted and whistled. Alex looked at me and then peered at Shawn. He shrugged.
“Grace Harrison,” Jackson said into the microphone. My name echoed off the dome around us, bouncing off the walls, and I prayed I was imaging it all as the big screen above our heads flashed to our section of the arena, zoning on my deer-in-the-headlights expression.
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