“You haven’t made any friends?” He seems genuinely concerned by this.
“I haven’t felt like myself enough to have tried.”
“You’ve been yourself with me.”
“But I’m not trying to make friends with you. Currently, Mr. Smoak, you are just the flirt I got paired with to write a paper.”
“You think I’m a flirt?”
“I know you’re a flirt – I’ve seen you around campus with your harem of beauties. You must’ve liked the cheerleader from last Friday…I don’t think you could’ve pushed your tongue down her throat any further if you tried.”
“Jealous?” he teases.
YES, the dirty half of my brain screams.
“Not to burst your self-important bubble, Jackson, but not all women dream of being the fleeting fuck that you and your super-muscled cronies have forgotten about by morning.” The nerve of this man.
“Speaking of dreams, why do you look so tired?” He changes track completely as if I haven’t just insulted him by calling him a blatant man-whore.
“Generally, people look tired when they are tired.”
“Then why are you tired?”
“Well, being tired is normally the result of a lack of sleep,” I’m patronizing him now, but I really am tired and don’t have the patience for this prolonged interrogation.
“Why are you being so awkward and evasive?”
“Because I’m tired and you’re wasting my time by not asking the right questions. If you want to know why I haven’t been sleeping then ask me why I haven’t been sleeping. Don’t dance around the subject,” I snap.
“Okay, why aren’t you sleeping?” His tone is softer now and it throws me off my argumentative balance.
“Are you trying to be my friend now?” I counter.
“Yes,” his indigo eyes burn with sincerity.
That throws me further.
“Because I’m having nightmares,” I admit quietly.
“Tell me about it?” And he actually sounds like he cares.
I breathe in deeply through my nose and say it in a rush. “I die…painfully. Covered in blood on a cold, damp sidewalk in the dark. Every night it feels more real than the last and it frightens me.”
Jackson’s whole demeanor changes; his expression stern, his back rigid and his eyes alight with something close to fear. He moves his chair closer and locks his eyes with mine. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave a single detail out.”
Something in his tone warns me not to argue.
The atmosphere between us has shifted and everything feels deadly serious all of a sudden and I’m compelled to tell him everything, even though I’m going to sound certifiably crazy.
“Every dream starts the same, with an image I saw when you first looked at me. It’s of you and me dancing around a pretty impressive looking ballroom – all fancy chandeliers and black and white marble, while a string quartet plays in the background. It feels very turn-of-the-last-century. You dance me around effortlessly for hours and for the whole night you never leave my side. Later, when you’ve walked me home, we…,” I swallow past the boulder in my throat… dear god, this is mortifying and Jackson just keeps staring intently at me. “…Well, we make out and it’s pretty damn hot,” I finish quickly.
Jackson manages a small smile and just waits for me to continue.
“I stand in my doorway watching you leave. At the end of the road, you turn and wave goodbye and then something happens and I don’t know how to describe it. The sensation is so strange. For a moment it’s not entirely unpleasant; I feel it in my neck and its deep and intense, but a split second later it’s agony. Burning agony and I’m screaming – I can’t stop screaming and there’s blood everywhere. It takes only a few moments before I’m covered with it and fall to the sidewalk. I’m vaguely aware that it’s cold and wet and that I can’t scream anymore as the blood fills my mouth and I start choking on it. I try to stem the bleeding with my hands, but there’s so much blood and it’s slippery and I really start to panic when I’m able to put my hand through a gaping wound into my neck. All the while you are shouting and sprinting towards me, but something stops you before you reach me. Everything starts to get fuzzy around the edges. I can see the pool of blood that I’m lying in – I’m practically swimming in it and you’re fighting someone and it’s ferocious, but you start to drift out of focus and I know I barely have any blood left to bleed. You finally get to me, but you’re already covered in blood and for a moment I fear that it’s yours. When you look at me, I can see the panic in your eyes as you tangle your hands with mine to stop the bleeding, but I have nothing left. My lungs burn for oxygen, my heart thumps so painfully in my chest, my eyes sting with the tears my body can no longer make and I fall…like the ground has lurched out from under me and everything disappears in one painful second. I wake up screaming at this point.” I take another deep breath to calm my heart rate and take the edge off the tears threatening to make an appearance.
Jackson looks like he’s seen a ghost. He leans forward and takes my face firmly in both of his hands.
“Show me your eyes,” he demands and his tone leaves me under no illusion; I don’t have a choice in the matter.
I’m not sure what relevance this has, but I lift my shaking hands to my face and try to tip my face forward to remove the lenses, but his hands are like a vice and I can’t move.
“Let me,” he whispers and with the softest flutter of his fingers across my eyes, he has my lenses out in seconds. I blink in surprise. Jackson just stares, captivated with his face closer than before. He is mere inches from me, his fingertips caressing my cheeks with the silkiest touch as he holds my face firmly in front of his.
“They’re stunning,” he breathes and despite my jittery nerves and fraught emotional state, I’ve never been so desperate to be kissed in my whole life.
Jackson floods my senses at such close proximity, all I can see and feel and smell is him and it pushes me into sensory overload. Every cell in my body begs to be kissed and touched by him. I long to bridge the gap and plant my lips on his, but I still can’t move. I’m trying to read his face, but he’s so close I can’t focus my eyes; I think I see shock, surprise and some other intense emotion I can’t define.
I place my hands on top of his, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine as I try to pull so that he releases my face slightly. Reluctantly, he loosens his grip, giving me the opportunity I’ve been aching for. I lift my face to his and brush my mouth against his full, silken, utterly sexy lips. They’re hot and firm and the sound of his gasp does exquisite things to the muscles between my legs, but like a slap to the face, he pulls back and clasps my face firmly back in place…away from his.
“Tonight,” he pants and the sound sets my clenched abdominal muscles on fire. The burn is unbearable and the only way I can think to cool the flames is to have him touch me…I want his hands on me, soothing me, stimulating me…fucking me. Having him inside me is the only cure I want. I groan in protest – I don’t want to wait until tonight…I don’t t think I can wait until tonight.