And how can I want to keep a very safe distance from him at the same time as wanting to invade his personal space? I’m starting to think I need some serious help…professional help. I’m a freaking head-case.
Then there’s the one question that perhaps I should’ve been focusing on all along…why, at the last minute, did he choose to sit next to me?
I sure as hell wouldn’t willingly sit next to someone who was staring at me like an idiot, so why did he? And if he, somehow miraculously, didn’t notice my little meltdown, it still doesn’t explain why, out of all the empty seats and many beautiful girls in that room, he sat next to me.
He didn’t even take an empty seat; he demanded that I move to accommodate him. At the time, I didn’t think to look and see what his friends made of his behavior; one minute he’s following them and the next he’s bailed and sat with a strange, shy, openly hostile girl that he decides shouldn’t frown.
To say I’m confused is an understatement.
* * *
Friday comes around too quickly and I find myself sat in a quiet corner of the library with my stomach in my mouth.
This inconvenient organ relocation prevented me from eating any breakfast and that won’t help my goal to be less of a bitch with Jackson…because let’s be honest, I had no real reason to be a bitch last time.
I wish I could say that I haven’t given him a second thought since Monday or that I haven’t been secretly hoping to see him around campus – preferably not with his tongue in another girls mouth – or that he and his compelling eyes have not been invading my thoughts and distracting me numerous times a day...
…I wish I was a better liar.
But I’m more than a bit pathetic and I’ve thought of nearly nothing else. The warning portion of my brain has been completely overpowered by the half that has enjoyed this intoxication. This hungrier, dirtier part of myself wants to strip Jackson completely naked and…oh…that is not a suitable daydream for the library.
I’m studiously ignoring the fact that I haven’t slept properly since I met him and that twice this week, I’ve woken up screaming at the top of my lungs, drenched in sweat and too terrified to cross-examine the nightmare.
The lack of sleep is also not going to help me be nice towards Jackson, because my good conscience won out regarding my attitude towards the mysterious man who irritates me. I weighed my options: on the one hand, I could be rude to him to get him to leave me alone, but that didn’t work out so well on Monday, or I can be polite and hope he quickly discovers how shy and boring I am and then leaves me alone. I went with option two…mostly because I don’t like being mean to people.
There’s also the small, deluded voice that says if I am nice to him, maybe he’ll get naked with me…that’s the voice that confuses me the most. I desperately need to work out my jumbled feelings towards this man I barely know, so my plan is to be civil – not going to be easy on an empty stomach with no sleep – and to get this paper sorted as quickly as possible so that I don’t have to see him again. That way, I get my life back…uncomplicated and unconsumed with thoughts of him.
To get me out of my own head, I decide listening to music is the relaxing way forward, so I grab my headphones and head towards the stacks containing the Astronomy textbooks and journals.
The music soothes my jittery nerves with its soulful melodies. I have an eclectic taste in music ranging from rock to cheesy pop – mostly it’s anything I can sing and dance to, but today I’ve selected a playlist I created to chill me out. It only contains songs with soft, melodic beats and soulful voices; the type of songs created to envelop you and allow you to lose yourself in the peaceful rhythms.
It works, and before long I’m swaying to the beat and slowly dancing along the bookcase until I locate a suitable textbook; this corner of the library is unusually quiet, so there are no witnesses.
I don’t see him, but I can feel his eyes pouring over me and I stop mid-sway to turn and see him casually leaning against the bookshelf a meter behind me, his delicious lips pulled into a lazy grin as his eyes rake over me from head to toe.
I feel naked from his perusal and the dirty voice in my head loves it and wants to play filthy, sweaty games with the sexy specimen before me. My rational brain wants to re-engage with my mouth and pick my jaw up off the floor.
In the dusty light of the library, Jackson looks…indescribably handsome. All sex-on-legs in his casual jean, shirt combo with disheveled dark hair and killer cheekbones.
Fuck me.
I want him.
Right here, right now, in the middle of the library. I want this man I barely know to pin me against the bookcase and fuck me hard and senseless. Blushing at my wayward thoughts, I try to regain my composure as I remove my headphones.
“Hey, beautiful. Sorry, I’m late,” he murmurs seductively.
Shit. Breathe Emilia, breathe. “Hey,” I reply lamely.
“Found anything interesting?”
“Well, I don’t really know what I’m looking for considering I paid zero attention in class. I can’t even tell you the Professor’s name,” I admit sheepishly.
“Yes, you did seem a little…preoccupied,” his full watt smile derails my thought process. He knows.
He knows the complete brain frazzling effect he has on me and I get the impression he’s enjoying watching me stumble and blush, and I don’t know what possesses me, but I actually giggle at this remark.
“That’s a lovely sound,” he says sincerely.
“It’s the first time I’ve laughed in weeks.”
Jackson seems momentarily upset by this, but the expression disappears as quickly as it appeared leaving me to question what I saw.
“Dr. Ashton,” he says as if he’s talking perfect sense.
“Excuse me?”
“The Astronomy Professor. His name is Dr. Ashton. This is probably a good one to start with,” his large hand selects a book and heads back toward my table where I notice he’s already set out his notepad and laptop.
How did he know this was my table?
“It’s the closest table to the Astronomy section and I remembered you had a blue bag,” he answers my unspoken question, which freaks me the fuck out. “You look confused by how I knew you were sitting here,” he says by way of explanation, inadvertently reading my mind again.
We sit in silence for a few moments while he flicks through the textbook and I feel compelled to try and make conversation.
“I’m sorry if I was rude to you the other day,” even if you totally asked for it by giving me stick for frowning and not paying attention…yeah, that’s the hangry voice talking.
“I wasn’t aware that you were, and anyway, it’s always healthy for me to remember that not every woman wants to throw her number my way,” he smirks. It’s a dangerously hot, flirtatious smile and I feel my composure going up in flames…much like the rest of me.
“Yeah, guess I didn’t feel compelled to give it to you when every time I see you, you’re in another compromising position and always with a different girl,” I tease. “I’m not the notch-in-a-bedpost type of girl.”
“That fact, I am acutely aware of.”
What does that mean?