“Hi,” I say awkwardly, hoping to extinguish the awkwardness. Just when I think I can get away with saying goodbye to Blake in a dignified manner, Jackson squares off and faces him.
“And you are?” he practically spits at Blake, who registers a very brief look of shock before his face hardens into a scowl.
“Don’t worry about me, man, who the hell are you, and why are you getting in my face?” Blake holds his own. He doesn’t even flinch at Jackson’s intimidating stance.
My stomach knots in nervous apprehension, anxiety slowly making its presence known. “Jackson,” I say softly, placing a hand gently on his arm, while I watch his jaw work solidly in an attempt to control his anger.
“You should go,” he says to Blake through clenched teeth, never backing down with his murderous glare, and angling his body so that he effectively positions himself between the two of us.
“Maia?” Blake looks to me for confirmation.
“It’s fine Blake,” I say with muted enthusiasm. He offers me a warm smile and nods before turning and walking off, not dignifying Jackson’s presence with even a glance in his direction.
Jackson turns to me, but before he even faces me directly, I turn around sharply and start off towards my apartment.
“Maia!” he says desperately, grabbing onto my arm in arm attempt to slow me down. I shake him off fiercely, but stop walking.
“What?” I ask abruptly, seething from this display of God only knows what.
“I’m sorry,” Jackson says ruefully.
“Sorry?” I almost laugh at the comment. “For what, for the fact that you think you own me, even though we are not together? Or for behaving like a barbarian in front of someone who was just being nice? Or maybe it’s that we broke up because you decided to get lap dances from whores. Or is it because you got caught?” The last two sentences fly from my mouth before my brain can stop them.
Jackson eyes widen in surprise. “What the fuck, Maia? How did you think I would react to that? The fact that you decided to end things with me does not mean that my feelings for you just up and vanished! As for the so-called lap dances, I wasn’t even lucid when that photo was taken. God, can we please just fucking move past that already!” Jackson’s voice spikes in frustration. He runs his hands over his head and down the back of his neck.
Honestly, I don’t know what to say. Am I being stupid by not letting this go? How the hell do I convince myself to trust him, after every instinct I have learned in my nineteen years tells me to protect myself from the pain that this type of love comes with?
“You don’t own me, you never will,” I reply with volition. “Get that straight right now. And you don’t get to come at me, or the people who I talk to, like that. Because, you don’t own me.” People walking past us on the street eye us with interest. Everybody loves a good fight right?
“You’re right,” Jackson sighs, deflated. “But you own me. You have since the day I met you. Ask me to change whatever you want, but don’t ask me to change that. I can try to be your friend because even if it’s in a small way, I need you. You made your decision about us and I promise to respect that. Don’t ask me to give up on us though.” Jackson’s eyes never leave mine and his voice softens. “You don’t get to decide how I feel, either.”
My heart splinters at Jackson’s words, the pain of what I’m doing resonates down to my very soul. “Jackson, I put you at arm’s length because that’s all I can give you right now, and maybe forever. Can you be my friend and accept that even though I love you, I may never let you back in to where we were?”
“If that’s what it takes to not lose you, then yes.” Jackson’s response is firm, resolute. “I’ve wasted a lot of time these last few years with how I lived, and however you decide to have me, I’m not wasting a second with you. Until you tell me otherwise.”
“Friends?” I say holding out a hand.
“Friends,” Jackson responds smiling, and pulls me into a warm and very platonic hug, which makes my heart break, again.
The white elephant in the room has shrunk ostensibly since our talk outside, and I find myself settling into Jackson’s easy nature after we take our newfound friendship into the café.
“Jade called me today,” Jackson says casually.
“Really, how is she?” I miss Jade so much. I miss my daily dose of crazy.
“Doing okay, said she misses you and sends her love,” he replies. “She didn’t say much about when she’d be back though.” Jackson always seems to be able to pre-empt the next words out of my mouth. “Meanwhile,” he continues after taking a swig of his beer, “know anyone who needs an employee? I need to start trawling the wanted ads soon.”
“Oh, why, I thought you had a full ride?” I ask curiously.
“I do,” he replies, “but it covers my tuition and books, with a separate portion for living. So from that I gotta pay for meals, the dorm, and whatever else. It was okay when I still had savings from the auto shop. But now I need to work a little.”
A thin veil of apprehension settles over me. The last time I suggested to Jackson that I pay for something didn’t go so well. But I do it anyway. Maybe the just friends version of us has a little less pride. “Would you consider a loan?” I say tentatively. Yeah, the just friends version of us is just as proud, and I know that be the way Jackson’s shoulders tense noticeably as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“Maia, you know how I feel about that,” he replies simply, and then stops talking, as if to say that the conversation ends right there.
“Well,” I push on anyway, “I can fund a private scholarship through my company, that money technically doesn’t belong to me.”
Jackson rolls his eyes. “The money still comes from you, Maia, and I don’t need charity, okay?” He says the last part low, and I decide to leave it alone for now.
The just friends version of us becomes easier as we settle into casual conversation, leaving the topics of Atlanta and college funding well away from the banter. Jackson knocks back the beers steadily, and while I can see that he is nowhere near drunk, I still know that he is in no position to drive back to the campus. I wonder, for a brief moment if that was his intention, or has been, all along. And the thought doesn’t sit well with me, not at all.
Chapter 24
Jackson
I’m careful not to let Maia see how my eyes steal glances, roaming along the smooth skin on her neck. And how I adjust myself by shifting in my seat when she brings the beer bottle to her lips, and a thousand indecent thoughts fill my mind. The girl is beautiful and sadly for me, I happen to know just how beautiful every part of her is, and feels. And to know that I won’t be touching any part of that tonight is nothing short of corporal punishment. Torture. I’m aware that the number of beers that I have knocked back renders me incapable of driving back to campus. And it wasn’t intentional on my part, at least not consciously. And if my subconscious has fucked up, I may very well spend the night sleeping in the Mustang.
“How are you getting back?” Maia asks.
“I’m not sure,” I reply nonchalantly. “I’ll probably just hang out in the Mustang for a while till I sober up I guess, not a big deal.” I shrug my shoulders.
She looks away in contemplation, at war with her own thoughts, and eventually looks up at me and says, “You can hang out in the apartment for awhile to sober up. The Bean is closing soon. It’s nearly midnight. But just as friends.”
She adds the last part on quickly. Just in case I decide to get the wrong idea. Truth is I’m not even trying to get into Maia’s pants tonight, but let’s be real. I am a red-blooded male who happens to think that the sexiest, most perfect woman is sitting before me. My head might tell me that going with her was a bad idea, but my dick is all in. In fact, it’s already speeding towards the apartment block.
“Okay,” I reply, trying to cull the happy lilt in my voice.
Maia pays the bill and for once I choose not to argue with her. I finger the small box in my ja
cket pocket that holds a delicate platinum infinity charm on a thin platinum chain. This encompasses every ounce of savings I had left, hence my need to seek employment now. I had planned on giving this to Maia before we came back from Atlanta, except things didn’t go according to planned. I hope she’ll accept it as a friendship token. The charm matches one of my tattoos. The cold chill that blasts us as we step out onto the street causes Maia to shiver instantly. I consider wrapping my arms around her, but I get the sense that that may be pushing the friendship a little.
Thankfully the heat is already on in her apartment, and we settle onto the couch as she makes us two espressos with a machine that costs more than my car. We settle into the plush lounge and for a few minutes, nobody says anything. We don’t need to.
“Wanna watch something?” Maia asks, breaking the silence.
“Sure,” I smile.
After a few moments of playful debate over rom com or horror, we finally settle on some zombie love story and settle back into the couch. The movie is bad, so bad in fact that Maia falls asleep after the first ten minutes. I watch her chest rise and fall steadily, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber. I could stare at her all night, and imagine that minus all the bullshit of the last month, our lives could go on forever with just this much peace.
After a while, my eyelids grow heavy and I drift off to sleep. Largely because the zombies have resorted to eating each others faces off, in the name of true love. Who makes this shit? In the early hours of the morning, I wake to find the lights out, the TV off, and a blanket placed lightly over me. Maia is no longer next to me. I walk over to the kitchen for a glass of water and notice the thin stream of light from her lamp, seeping through the master bedroom door. I walk over, glass in hand and stare over at Maia as her head rests gently against her pillow. I wish I could make sure her world was like this all the time; no fear, no mistrust, no anxiety. I have no idea how to do that. She’s been so hurt, still is so wounded. I wonder to myself whether this is one of those times when people say love is just not enough.
She stirs, and I take a step back. Her eyes open slowly and focus on me standing in the doorway. Looking every bit the stalker that I feel like. She holds my gaze intently, and my dick springs to life, hoping that what I’m thinking is what she’s thinking. This time I won’t say no. I don’t have it in me a second time. Fuck it! What do I have to lose? I take a few tentative steps into the bedroom. Maia’s eyes don’t leave mine. She watches me apprehensively at first, but slowly, the closer I get to the bed, the more I see her eyes fill with a lustful glow.
As I reach the bedside, she pulls the sheet down in invitation, and my dick solidifies at the sight of her in a grey Brown t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts. Before I have an opportunity to lower myself onto her, Maia sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She hooks her fingers into the belt loop of my jeans and pulls me, her head level with my crotch, her eyes never leaving mine. Maia brings me into her until I’m planted between her legs, her head dangerously close to my dick. The thought of what comes next is enough to cause me to close my eyes in sheer pleasure. Her hands move slowly to undo my belt buckle and roll down my zipper, before she drops my jeans to my ankles and pushes my boxers down to follow. Sliding her hands up the back of my thighs, she tortures me, teasing me by kissing my thighs, the bottom of my stomach. My hand grabs the back of her head in guidance.
“Don’t tease,” I whisper, the words coming out almost like a desperate plea.
Her lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Close your eyes,” she says low.
And I do. If she asked me to run down the street hard and naked as payment for wrapping her lips around my dick, I would gladly comply. Maia’s tongue moves in one sure motion along the underside of my now very hard shaft, and my body lets out an involuntary low moan. Her lips wrap around me as she takes me all in. My fingers grip her hair as she moves steadily back and forth, and my hips find their own rhythm, all of their own volition. I pull back before I lose my shit. I’ve missed Maia too much to end this experience by coming in her mouth. Maia looks at me questioningly until I reach down and kneel in front of her.
Chapter 25
Maia
For this one moment, everything is right with the world. I’ll allow myself this tonight. My body needs Jackson in a way that is primal. He kneels in front of me, and I pull his shirt over his head, taking in his toned chest and allowing my eyes to slip down to the perfect V-shape below. A searing heat rushes through my body, landing squarely between my legs. Jackson takes my arm and plants soft kisses on my wrists and all the way up to my shoulders. A delicious tingle courses through my body as his lips nuzzle my neck, before making their way down to my breasts. Jackson’s tongue expertly licks circles around my nipples as my body arcs, and I moan in pleasure. The amount of control we’re both showing by taking this slow is remarkable. Until he comes up, and our lips meet.
All of a sudden, a mutual fever takes hold of us. Where once was slow and sensual, has now been replaced by fervor and absolutely raw need. Our kisses are deep, suffocating in the best possible way. Jackson’s hands search my body desperately as I fall back on the bed with him following, his hard on stabbing deliciously into my inner thigh. My hips arch towards it, begging for it, needing it. My hand reaches down, grabbing him, long and hard, in an effort to guide him to where I want him to be.
“Maia,” Jackson breathes my name, our lips still touching. His hand slips between the soft flesh of my thighs, rubbing slow, purposeful circles, until he slides a finger in. My body arches in response, but this is a poor substitute for what I have in my hand.
“Now!” I say aggressively. “Don’t tease.” The words leave my mouth as a desperate whimper. Jackson’s eyes meet mine and his lips curl upwards in a coy grin.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Maia, say it,” he says softly with a dangerous edge.
“Fuck me, now!” I demand fiercely.
I hear a foil wrapper crinkle before Jackson slides into me slowly, savoring each moment. He lets out an animal groan, as I purse my lips together to mute the strangled cry that threatens to escape. He fills every inch of me, as my legs form a vice grip around his waist and his hips grind slowly and purposefully into me. Our bodies move in unison, perfect synchronicity, our lips and hips both dancing to an intense harmony, building with each thrust and moan to a perfect crescendo.
Jackson grabs my hands and grips them above my head. “Fuck Maia,” he moans as he picks up speed.
I’m past the point of being quiet, and loud moans fly from my mouth with each thrust, each one hurting me with a beautiful pain, each building a wave in my body that’s bigger than the last. Until they crash, sending violent spasms through me, my nails digging into my own palms. Jackson’s eyes meet mine and I see in them complete reckless abandon. He thrusts into me with purpose until his hips grind with finality into mine, and moments later, a loud animalistic roar floods from his mouth. His hands tighten over my wrists as his body goes rigid before falling over mine, the both of us exhausted, completely spent. What have we done? What have I done?
Jackson rolls over and steals a glance in my direction before getting up to dispose of the soggy prophylactic and retrieve his boxer shorts from the floor. My soul craves these moments of absolute recklessness, of acting without thinking or talking myself out of it. But I deny myself them, because inevitably they lead to heartache and pain. Right now though, I swat away those thoughts and settle into my pillow, enjoying the wonderful ache between my legs. Jackson doesn’t come back immediately, and for a horrible moment I feel relief at the fact that he may have left. Except for the fact that his jeans and shirt lay in a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor. I forego my Brown t-shirt and slip Jackson’s white V-neck on before padding softly out to the lounge.
Jackson stares out the window down onto the street below. He looks resplendent, in just his boxers illuminated by the moonlight. I lean against the door frame, contemplating why I am denying myself this. Him.
And then the memory of Atlanta, all the complications, the gut wrenching pain I felt when I thought that he had hurt me, it all floods back. Giving me my answer.
“You know, running away in the early morning in your boxers will definitely give you hypothermia. Parts of you may start falling off,” I joke.
Jackson turns around to face me. “I figured you may need the space,” he replies seriously. He always knows what I need and when. “So, are we still friends? What was that?” Jackson asks softly.
“We’re friends Jackson, I told you that’s what I wanted. That was, well, it was great, but it was what it was,” I reply casually.
“Yeah, but what was it?” Jackson walks over and leans against the wall, matching my stance. “Did we fuck?”
“We did,” I smile.
“Did you like it?” he asks snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me in to him.
“I did,” I reply, “so maybe we could be friends, but with a few benefits.”
Jackson looks at me sadly and opens his mouth to reply, but decides against it. I’ve fooled myself into believing that this is the only way to keep Jackson near me without getting hurt. It’s naïve to believe, stupid as shit, and an all around bad idea that encompasses me setting myself up for disaster and making him feel like I’m using him.
“Do you really think we can do that?” Jackson asks me doubtfully.
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