My head hurt like a bitch, and I still wanted to collapse and sleep for days, but I could stand now. I could breathe. I still kind of wanted to throw up, but there was nothing in my stomach to vomit up anymore; nothing but stark yellow stomach bile. My hands shook, but not because of me feeling so ill.
No, they shook in anger over what happened. Over what those idiots did to me.
How dare they? Who the hell did they think they were, making a fool of me? And Archer—what the fuck was wrong with him? His hot and cold act was just that, an act, and I’d fallen for it like a fool among fools. Hook, line, and sinker.
I never thought I was an idiot before. Sure, I did some rash things, but didn’t everyone? Everyone had their moments. This…there was no comparing this to anything. Tonight had been just cruel. Awful and cruel, not kids being kids. Tonight was about kids trying to play God, trying to tell me I didn’t belong here in Midpark.
You know what? Fuck them. Fuck every single one of them.
They thought they got the best of me tonight—and they might’ve, if Jacob hadn’t shown up—but never again. I swore to myself as I rinsed off my face, scrubbed off the smeared makeup and ran my hands through my wet hair, I swore to myself I would never let them get the better of me again.
They thought they’d seen the real Jaz? They had no idea the fire they’d set inside me. No idea how badly I wanted to get them back. Revenge. I wanted revenge, and I would have it. They had no idea the lengths I would go to to get them back for tonight.
Dramatic? Maybe, but they’d crossed the line. They had to have drugged me. A drink, even on an empty stomach, wouldn’t affect me so quickly.
What? Did they think to mock me, have me realize the truth, and then pass me around to the lucky guys who were there? Fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck them all.
My mind was a whirlwind of potential torment, thinking of all of the ways I could make them pay. Archer, Brittany, her friends. They would all rue the day they thought they could get the best of me.
I had no idea how long I stood there in the shower, but eventually I got out. I had to use the towel hanging on the wall to dry myself, and as I rubbed it against my face and hair, I couldn’t help but catch the scent on the towel. It smelled like Jacob.
It…wasn’t a bad smell, actually. Musky, manly. The kind of scent I could close my eyes and get lost in—if it wasn’t for tonight, I might’ve let myself. But now wasn’t the time to get lost in a man’s smell, especially someone like Jacob. Someone who I was not only working with, but also someone who was quite a few years older than me. He had to be nearing thirty. That was…a bit old for me.
Maybe.
Once my body was dry, I paused as I stared down at my dress. My legs felt a little stiff, and a whole lot sore, as if I’d done some hardcore exercise without realizing it. Maybe it was just my muscles trying to recover from whatever was in my system earlier.
There was no way I’d get myself into that dress again. That dress…held some awful memories now, memories I’d rather forget entirely.
No, there would be no forgetting what happened tonight. The memories would fester in my brain until they got their comeuppance.
My eyes spotted the clothes Jacob had brought in. They were his—and I bet they smelled like him, too. I probably shouldn’t wear them either, but what choice did I have in the moment? I put my bra back on, along with my panties. I kept the tights off, leaving them on top of my dress on the floor. Might as well throw that shit out. Mom wouldn’t know the difference…until she saw me coming home in clothes that weren’t mine.
Damn. I couldn’t tell her the truth of what happened. I’d only worry her, and I wanted to be able to take care of it myself. Might have to play dirty, but obviously those other girls—and Archer—didn’t care about playing dirty. I’d have to think up another story to tell Mom, but I wouldn’t worry about that now. Right now, I just wanted to get dressed, maybe run a comb through my hair, since I assumed he didn’t have a brush in this place.
Jacob obviously didn’t have a girlfriend. It was very clear he lived alone here. Not sure if that made me curious or relieved. Curious because he was a cute guy beneath that stubble, and relieved because I didn’t want a girlfriend to get jealous of me or something. Things weren’t like that between us.
The shirt he’d given me had some kind of sports logo on it, and I swayed a little on my feet as I slipped it on. I had to grip the vanity’s edge to keep myself upright as I stuck one leg in the sweatpants, one after the other. I looked in the drawers for a comb, and I found one after two drawers, under a bunch of things.
Man, this guy had no organizational skills whatsoever. Everything was just thrown into the drawers haphazardly. Maybe he needed a girlfriend.
Brushing my thick hair with a comb was a bit of a process. It got tangled more often than not, and after a few tries, I simply gave up. My hair was too thick and too long to succumb to a comb. I needed a legit brush to get its lengths under control.
I tossed the comb back into the messy drawer, shutting it with a frown. Quietly, I exited the bathroom, pausing to hear where Jacob was. Of course, I realized I was technically in the apartment of a stranger, but I figured if he wanted to take advantage of me, he had ample opportunity to.
My ears heard grunting coming from a semi-open door down the hall, and I slowly walked toward it, taking my time in moving. If I went too fast, I’d probably fall. My legs did not feel strong enough to hold my body weight, and let’s not even get into how badly my head felt right now. I literally felt like I’d been run over by a train.
Not an exaggeration, sadly.
My bare feet on the vinyl flooring were near silent, and I peeked into the room before stepping in, not certain of what I’d see.
Jacob. He’d changed into workout clothes and was furiously going at a large punching bag that looked like it’d seen better days. He might not take care of himself physically, but he worked out like a maniac, apparently. The room was full of workout equipment—weight machines, an elliptical, and that punching bag. He was very fit under those clothes, wasn’t he?
I moved to lean against the door frame, silent as I watched him give his all to the punching bag. Over and over he hit it, his fingers curled into fists. Both his hands were wrapped in something white—bandages?
His arm muscles tensed every time he did a jab. Watching him work out was something I could do all night, frankly. It would help get my mind off everything that happened tonight; a nice distraction.
I was content in watching him quietly, but then he paused in his punching and reached for the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up to wipe his face; he must’ve been sweating too much. As the fabric lifted up, I spotted something on his lower back. Since I wasn’t next to him, I couldn’t tell what it was, but it looked like it wrapped around his abdomen to his stomach.
What was that? A scar? Some kind of deformity? It didn’t matter. Regardless, Jacob was a fine male specimen, even if it did look like he hardly slept and forgot to shave more often than not.
A huge part of me wanted to address whatever was on his lower back, but instead I simply broke my silence by saying, “What were you doing there tonight?” I was in my own mind more than I was when he’d first appeared at Brittany’s house, and now I wondered just how the hell he’d been there to become my savior for the night.