She’s . . . jealous?
“Yes. I’m jealous!” she announced, like I’d asked the question aloud. Rae waved her hands wildly in the air. “But, you know, it’s not even about them. They were delightful. Absolutely delightful. Fine. Have sex with hundreds of women. Fine. But am I an idiot? Just tell me.” She jutted her chin out, eyes flashing.
“No. Of course not—”
“When I’m with you, all I see and can think about is you, Rae,” she cut me off, mimicking my words from earlier and punching the chips next to her. “I don’t believe a single thing you say.”
“I have never lied to you.” The words came out rough, my throat full of gravel and my chest full of lead.
She ignored me, ranting like I hadn’t spoken. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this. I promised myself that if I saw you, I would be friendly but cool, since we are just friends. Obviously, if you wanted to be more than just friends, if our little car trip had meant anything at all to you, you would’ve called me.”
I didn’t try to offer the excuse of not having her number. I didn’t have her number, but I could’ve asked Sienna for it a hundred times now that her cell was in my recent calls history. But I did say, “You know you mean something to me.”
She scoffed. “Whatever. I don’t care. I should just get over it.” Rae flicked her hands in the air like she was flicking the idea of me away. “I really should. But then your harem shows up, and I don’t know, I guess I’m jealous that you wanted all those women more than you wanted me.”
A surge of anger had me gritting out, “And what would be the point of wanting you, Rae? Are you planning to stay in Green Valley? Are you moving here?”
“No. Because I have no reason to stay, do I? No one wants me here.” She laughed, sweeping her arm out. “Listen, there is one more thing I want to know. I understand that you’ve changed”—she said the word changed like it was the dumbest word in the English language— “and you want a long-term relationship with a nice, dedicated, hard-working, struggling, unfun woman. But this is what I don’t get, why didn’t we have sex that night when we first met? According to everyone ,you were Mr. Funtimes back then. Why didn’t you want me?”
Her accusation landed right in the center of my chest, unleashing my temper. Acting on instinct, I encircled her wrists with my fingers, hauling her up such that we were both kneeling, just inches between us. “You think I didn’t want you that night?”
“No. I don’t.” She pushed against me but didn’t try to break free. “You could’ve taken my bishop at any point!” The end of her sentence was whispered harshly, like maybe she wanted to yell but knew she couldn’t.
I followed suit and lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. “You told me, when we were at the overlook that night, the minute we had sex, I’d be—and I quote—‘dead to you.’ I thought—” I shook my head at the memory, at the burst of panic I’d felt when she’d said those words, and the stupidity of my hasty, desperate logic at the time. Swallowing thickly, I forced myself to even my tone, loosening my grip on her wrists. “I thought, if we didn’t sleep together—if we didn’t have sex that night— then maybe you’d be open to seeing me again. Maybe it wouldn’t count as a one-night stand.”
Her lips parted in surprise and most of the anger drained right out of her.
“But to your original question, the answer is no, Rae. I haven’t had sex with all those women. Just two of them. But I did mess around with the other two. They all went to college together, and I happily took whatever they offered. Because I didn’t care if I saw them again, and they didn’t care if they saw me. I messed around a lot when I was younger, and it was all fun and it was all easy. And none of it lasted or mattered. I didn’t expect it to. I didn’t spend nights aching for any of them, wondering what they were doing, wondering if they’d be open to seeing me again, wondering if they still remembered me or ever thought about me.”
Her beautiful brown eyes were unguarded, searching, and she seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for me to finish.
“I could’ve asked Sienna for your number, you’re right. I thought about it a thousand times. But I didn’t because I am blind when I’m with you. I’m not sure I can be a good man when I’m with you. I’m not sure I can trust myself not to push you for more than you want to give me. And that’s on me. That’s my failure. So, yes. I could’ve called. But I’m crazy about you, and being crazy about someone isn’t good for me. Or them.”
“Oh, Jackson.”
“And just like everything I’ve ever said to you since the moment we met, that’s the God’s honest truth.” I said through gritted teeth, letting her go and moving to stand.
“No. Wait. Wait a minute.” Now she reached for me, dragging me down and keeping me on my knees—figuratively and literally. “I wish you had said something to me back then.”
“Why? Would you have stayed?” I spat, angrier than I had a right to be.
“Yes. I would have!” She nodded earnestly, closing the distance between us to tenderly cup my jaw between her hands. “I wanted to stay that night. I wanted to get to know you. I wanted you to take me fishing. And if you’d asked, I would have stayed.”
What? I shook my head, ingrained instinct telling me to reject her words.
Rae leaned forward to kiss me, a short, urgent press of lips before wrapping her arms around my shoulders and placing her cheek next to mine. “I don’t know what to do,” she said, squeezing me tightly. “I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t understand it myself, and I know it doesn’t make sense, because we barely know each other, but I want a shot at being your nice, dedicated, hard-working, struggling, unfun woman.”
What is happening?
My brain couldn’t keep up. But my body, my hands in particular, seemed to know exactly what I wanted. I twined several locks of her long, thick hair around my fingers and pulled gently, forcing her chin back. I looked down at her, at the uncertainty, the hopeful vulnerability written all over her features.
Something too big to contain or measure swelled within me, a feeling, a sense, an emotion I couldn’t name, but it was fierce, and it turned my heart into a wild drum such that I heard nothing else. My mouth was on hers then, claiming the sweet sound of her surprise as I laid her back on the blanket and tasted her tongue, settling myself firmly between her open thighs and rocking forward.
She moaned. Her fingers clawed at my shirt to lift it, to reach inside and touch my skin, branding the expanse of my back.
Her nails dragged around my side, scratching my stomach as I feasted on her neck and pushed up her white T-shirt. I wasn’t thinking about anything—not where we were, not who stood nearby, or who might happen upon us. Making Rae feel good, making Rae come, making Rae beg—whoa, not sure where that one came from—occupied the entirety of my thoughts. Kissing and tasting every square inch of her body, listening to her sounds of ecstasy, feeling her muscles lock up, the intensity surprising her, just like I’d had the honor of doing twice upon a time.