Scared of Beautiful (18 page)

“Hey!” The words that left my mouth were supposed to be casual, supposed to ooze with nonchalance and, well, just ease. Except they don’t. The single, solitary word shoots out of my upper orifice like it was synthetically sped up, and combined with the awkward grin on my face, it’s just an enormous fail on my part. The only way I’m getting through this, I decide, is with indifference.
It’s going to be one long ass afternoon
.

I didn’t, however, take into account that when I was trying to be an elusive ice queen, the fact that I am and probably always will be annoyingly comfortable in Jackson’s company. After stuffing our faces, we order drinks and relax into the evening, which as it turns out, flies by with ease. The more scotch I drink, the more attractive Jackson becomes and my eyes revert more than once to the bulge in his jeans. If he notices, he doesn’t mention a thing, but does casually adjust his pants when I lean forward to grab my phone from my bag, or to reapply my lip-gloss. I know I’m teasing, deliberately bending forward to flash my black lace bra. I want him to want me. But at the same time, I told him not to. More than once in the evening I’m distracted by the head versus heart versus vagina dilemma I have going on.

“This is nice,” Jackson says quietly during our third round of drinks.

“What?” I ask curiously.

“Having drinks, no pressure. I guess we can be friends after all. Who knew?” He gives me a cocky sideways grin.

“Easy huh?” I say with mock offense.

“Not even missing me a little?” I try to sound nonchalant, but the sadness makes its way past my smile.

“Every day,” he says looking down with sudden interest at the label on his beer bottle. “If being friends is the only way to see you, then it’s what I gladly take.”

The conversation stalls right then, because truthfully, there’s nothing either of us can say. We’re both lying and we know it. This awkwardness, this conversation, will always be the elephant in the room for us.

I knock back the contents of my glass and order another. I should stop drinking. That’s what I should do. We should say goodnight and exit stage left to our respective lonely beds right fucking now. But neither of us go. Neither of us can. The Clever Bean around us is alive with the sounds of glasses clinking and drunken merriment. I knock back the next glass as it lands in my hand.

“I should go,” I say with hesitation before grabbing my bag.

“I’ll walk you,” Jackson says standing up.

“I’m fine, it’s a few doors down,” I reply with a polite smile.

Jackson gives me a cocky grin, “Mama said to be a gentleman at all times. Gotta listen to mama, now.”

I shrug and we walk. The whiskey obviously has a much stronger effect on me now that I’m standing up and using my lower extremities. After me missing the curb twice, Jackson slides an arm around my waist. I would tell him to back off, but he’s all that’s keeping me walking in a straight line. And he smells so fucking good, like soap and fresh mint mixed with an ocean breeze.

This half drunk, half lucid state that I’m in is doing nothing to help me maintain my resolve. I want to fucking leap into Jackson’s arms, wrap my arms and legs around his person and hold on for dear life. The urge almost brings me to my knees a few times in our short walk. I stay silent, as I’m not able to trust myself with whatever could spew verbally from my mouth. Jackson opens my building door and holds it open for me. “

Will you be okay from here?” he asks.

Yes, no, not really, maybe. What the hell do I say?
Before my brain formulates a decent response to the question, my body answers for me, and my traitorous lips crash into his. Jackson grabs my waist and kisses me as though he’s been roaming a desert and I’m his oasis, his water.

“
Maia
.” My name leaves his lips through the kiss in a guttural moan, and it sounds so freaking hot. It must be the alcohol affecting me, because every nerve in my body feels like it’s laced with live voltage.

Jackson pushes me up against the far wall, and the first thought that pops into my head is,
thank God I don’t have a doorman
. My body rocks between the wall and Jackson, and his hips grind me into the plaster so hard I’m worried for a moment that I’ll go straight through. Our kisses are feverish, almost suffocating us, and the air around us electric. He struggles to find bare skin, practically clawing at my dress. Without a moment’s hesitation, I reach down for his belt buckle, my fingers clumsily prying it apart. I want to feel Jackson so badly that the thought clouds every other in my mind.

Jackson lets out a half-guttural moan and sighs before placing his hand over mine and moving it gently away. My foggy brain takes a moment to process what he’s doing. I meet his eyes and though still lust filled, there is a sadness that illuminates them.
Regret?
My partially coherent brain can’t quite process what’s happening.

“Maia…” Jackson’s voice trails off as though he wants nothing in the world more than to avoid what he’s about to say.

I hand him the out he needs. Before he can finish the sentence, I shove him away and run up the stairs. He doesn’t follow me, and I don’t dare glance back, although I know he’s watching me race up the stairs. The world blurs as tears distort my vision and the true weight of my stupidity dawns on me, pushing through my impaired lucidity.
I let him go, what the hell did I expect?

My shaky hands unlock the door as I stumble over the threshold. My body and heart both ache for Jackson, but abject humiliation stops me from running back out the door to stop him. What will I say?
No, I don’t want to be with you. But I do want to sleep with you. No I’m lying because I love you and I need you. But I can’t need you. And I definitely can’t tell you that I need you.
My body curls itself into the fetal position on the couch, and that’s where I stay.

The morning sun filters through my bay windows and the blinding glare sears my eyes, which I already know are red rimmed and puffy. I had hope that the alcohol would provide me with a much-needed sense of vagueness about the previous night’s happenings. Sadly though, that was not the case. Along with my throbbing head and churning stomach, I remembered, with absolute clarity, the way Jackson kissed and held me just before he pushed me away.

I peel myself off of the sofa and slowly amble my way to the shower.
Coffee, I need coffee.
After washing yesterday’s funk from my skin and hair, and deciding that my giving-zero-fucks factor will only allow me to throw on a pair of yoga pants, my Brown sweater and a pair of running shoes, I make my way down to the Clever Bean. The waitress eyes me cautiously when I order a double shot piccolo, but doesn’t venture to make small talk
. I must have my fuck off face on as well.
As I turn to leave, a familiar frame catches my eye. And it’s the last person I want to see. Not only that, it’s the last person I want to see in the last situation in which I want to see him.

Jackson sits at the window, chatting animatedly to some school-girl looking blond. Her neat bob and swept back fringe, combined with her almost flawless, makeup free face, liken her to a candidate for the nunnery. She smiles shyly as he talks. And all I can do is stare. And envision myself strolling over and yanking every strawberry blonde lock from her scalp.

I turn to walk away, figuring that leaving with my dignity and my coffee is the only likely solution, but in my feverish attempt to escape, I collide with a rock solid structure, sending my coffee flying to the floor, with my person in hot pursuit. A pair of arms catches me just before I completely lose my footing.

“Whoa!” The voice is cheerful, if not slightly mocking.

“Sorry, I…sorry,” I stammer.
Well, there goes my dignity
. The arms that grab me are long and lean, and so is the body they are attached to. And if I weren’t so mortified by the situation, and horrified by the sight of Jackson with that blonde, I may have paid attention to the rest of him. But I don’t. I hightail it out of the Bean like my ass is on fire. As I steal a glance back, Jackson’s eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I think I see pity in those beautiful brown wells.

Jackson

If Maia had looked closer, she would have seen that Jill and I were looking through a CAD design book. She would have noticed that I was not at all interested in the blonde with me. But after sending her to bed last night, alone, I doubt that’s what she saw. I doubt that’s what she thought. I did, however, want to stab the asshole that tried to rescue the damsel in distress.
My damsel in distress.
I saw red when that athletic fucker looked at Maia the way he did. Thankfully I don’t think she noticed.

“Jackson?” Jill’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

“
Mmm
,” I answer absently. She eyes me curiously and for a moment I see a flash of what looks like annoyance. She covers it well though. “Hey, Jill, can we go over this stuff later?” I’m sure she wants to throw her vanilla latte in my lap, but she refrains.

“How about back here, later tonight?” Jill’s tone is hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe,” I answer before grabbing my books. “I’ll call you,” I call over my shoulder as I make my way to the counter to order a coffee to go.

This is such a fucking bad idea.
I know it
. My heart, which is stupid as shit, tells me that I can’t leave Maia thinking that I was replacing her with Jill. My brain is telling me to fucking run away until she has had a chance to calm down about last night.

I knock tentatively, and stand back apprehensively. I feel like a fucking schoolboy on his way to see the principal.
How did we get here?
Not so long ago, I was introducing Maia to the family, now she barely wants anything to do with me. A week ago I had her legs wrapped around me with no sign of ever letting go, and today I can barely get her to look at me.

Maia opens the door slowly and peers out through the crack. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to see me, so I hold up the white flag I brought, which happens to be a coffee. Obviously, her desperation for caffeine is an urge too strong to resist, and the door swings open.

“Should I take a guess and say that you and I are not in a real good place right now?” Were it not for the hurt in her eyes that betrayed her, Maia looked calm, way too calm.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she says simply. “I have a class to get to soon though.”
So I guess she’s madder than I thought.

“Can I get a ride in?” my question is posed so hesitantly, I almost feel afraid for me.

“How’d you get here in the first place?” she asks quietly.

“Jill gave me a ride over. We’re doing an assignment together.” I reply, so timidly that for a moment I think I may be lying. I probably wouldn’t believe me either. But fuck it, there it is. The truth. Not the whole truth. The whole truth would go something like,
I hate not being with you, hate that this is awkward, we’re wasting time on this talking shit, and I’m slightly relieved that you were jealous this morning.
But having testosterone means that men find it hard to lay all our shit bare like that. And I am no exception.

“Give me a sec,” she answers, before walking into her bedroom.

About twenty minutes later, we’re driving down the busy streets to the Brown campus.

“Maia, about last night…” I say after ten minutes of awkward silence.

“You don’t have to explain,” she says, cutting me off. “I was drunk. I’m sorry for throwing myself at you like that.” Her hands wring the steering wheel nervously.

“I do,” I reply. “Believe me, there is not one single part of me that doesn’t want you. But you trust me so little as it is. Do you really think I wanted you to wake up thinking that I took the first drunken opportunity I had to fuck you?”

I sigh in frustration. My cold shower did nothing to calm me down last night after leaving Maia’s. Her eyes are fixed pointedly at the road ahead, as she expertly avoids my gaze. “Jesus, Maia, I barely got you to agree to be friends! And there is nothing going on between Jill and I.” My voice inches up a notch in exasperation.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Jackson.”

Maia has perfected the art of distancing herself. The girl sure can be stone cold when she wants to be. Our conversation comes to an abrupt halt when she pulls up outside my dorm.

The morning leaves me completely deflated. I admit that I had chosen to meet Jill at the Bean in the hopes that it would elicit some kind of jealousy from Maia. I didn’t count on her completely shutting down on me like this. I had hoped that proving to her that I was a gentleman last night would score me a few points. Turns out, I’m zero for two. Nothing happened as I had envisioned it.
Fuck!

I pull out my phone and try one last ditch effort to fix this.

Can we at least talk tonight?
My finger hovers over the send button. No man likes to send a message that they know is going to result in a firm
fuck off
disguised as a
no
.