Chat Love (20 page)

I ask in a hoarse voice, “Where am I?”

Jackson rubs his face and groans. “You don’t remember at all?”

My head is pounding and my throat is dry. I look to my left and notice a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water resting on a nearby bedside table. I quickly take two pills, thankful for the feeling of the water sliding down my burning throat.

After swallowing, I mumble, “Did we sleep together?” I’m hoping that the answer will be no.

Jackson cocks his head. “Do you really think I’m that guy? I’m not the kind of person who has sex with a woman who’s passed out after throwing up.”

My eyes bug out. “Oh no, I threw up?” I ask.

He leans against the door and smiles. “Lots.”

My face heats up with embarrassment and I hide my head under the covers. “I am so sorry.”

I hear Jackson chuckle. I feel him sit on the edge of the bed as he places a hand on my leg. “I never knew a woman could throw up so much.” He laughs.

I groan again and try to bury myself deeper under the covers. “I don’t remember anything from last night.”

“Well, allow me to remind you,” Jackson says, beginning a long story about everything that had happened the previous night. Slowly, it all comes back to me in pieces. I remember the fight with the stranger, and I remember kissing him in the cab on the way home. I remember him pushing me up against a wall, and my legs wrapping around him as we kissed passionately, shedding our clothes. Then, things get a bit hazier until I remember leaning over the toilet in Jackson’s bathroom, vomiting, with him holding my hair and gently rubbing my back. All I can think is,
I threw up in front of Jackson Foster. It’s all over.
I’m mortified.

After Jackson finishes his story, I apologize again. He just laughs and slowly pulls the covers off of me, assuring me that I don’t need to apologize.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks. “Do you need to continue marking my toilet?” I shake my head and he gives me a lopsided grin. He leans in close as though he’s about to kiss me and then politely says with a smile, “You really need to brush your teeth.”

I cover my mouth, blushing again. He laughs loudly.

“There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom for you and I put out some clean towels so you can take a shower. I hung some clothes on the back of the door that you can wear, and when you’re done we can go out and get some brunch.”

I slowly rise from his bed, my muscles aching. I still have one hand over my mouth as I spot the large dog lying on the floor by the bathroom, staring at me. Jackson places a hand on my shoulder and gestures toward the dog.

“That’s Ginger. Don’t worry, she’s very friendly.”

“I noticed that this morning,” I say, still covering my mouth to hide my bad breath.

He guides me into a pristine, white bathroom. There is only one picture in the entire room: a beautiful framed photo of London hanging above the toilet. Next to the toilet is a shining white sink, bordered on the other side by an equally clean tub and shower. A neatly folded stack of clothes and towels are resting on the toilet lid, and there is a toothbrush, still in the package, lying on the counter near the sink.

Jackson leaves me, shutting the door behind him, and I begin to get undressed. I look in the mirror and see the poster girl for a hangover staring back at me; I am getting too old to keep doing things like this. I vigorously brush my teeth, trying to get the bad taste out of my mouth. I linger in the shower, enjoying the heat of the water as I freshen up. I step out of the shower, wrapping myself in the fluffy towel Jackson had laid out, and slowly put on my clothes. I’m wearing a pair of old sweat pants and one of his V-neck shirts, and I feel very comfortable. I run my fingers through my wet hair and stare in the mirror again, wishing that I had just a little makeup to help hide the bags under my eyes.

I walk out of the bathroom with my clothes and towel tucked under my arm and see Ginger lying by the door, looking up at me. She wags her tail gently and rolls over onto her back, begging for a belly rub. I scratch her belly and her tail wags faster as she nuzzles her head against my leg.

“She likes you,” I hear Jackson say.

I look up and see him standing in the doorway, watching the two of us on the floor.

“She’s a big teddy bear,” I reply, tousling her fur.

He chuckles. “She normally hates every girl she meets, with the exception of my mother and sisters; she’s more jealous than any woman I’ve ever met. I’m honestly surprised she’s even letting you touch her.”

“Well maybe you just haven’t been bringing the right kinds of women home,” I tease.

He laughs loudly and walks over to me, touching my arm lightly.

“You look good with my clothes on,” he says, then silently takes the towel out from under my arm and leaves the room.

I walk through the doorway and follow a hall to a large living room furnished with black couches, a massive TV, large speakers, and several shelves filled with books and movies. In the corner sits a small bar stocked with various bottles of liquor, and the floor is scattered with plush dog toys. The walls are decorated with several beautiful paintings that look expensive, and I find myself impressed with Jackson’s taste in art. I take a right and enter a large dining room with a wooden table, which connects to a fully stocked kitchen featuring marble counters and shiny appliances.

“So do you like what you see?” Jackson asks, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

I run my fingers through my wet hair and lean back against him. “Well, it’s definitely a bachelor pad, but it’s very nice,” I nudge his ribs with my elbow.

He lets go of me and walks into the kitchen. He opens a cabinet door, taking out a plastic grocery bag and handing it to me.

“For your clothes,” he explains.

I thank him and put my clothes in the bag. I suddenly hear a vibrating sound and follow it into the living room, spotting my red purse lying on the couch. I go through my bag and find my phone, seeing that I have several missed calls and text messages.

“Don’t worry,” Jackson says from the doorway. “I already spoke to your friend.” I turn and see him looking at me. He continues, “After you passed out, I heard your phone going off and answered it. Your friend Autumn was crying on the other end, wondering why you hadn’t come home when you’d told Skyler that you were going back to your place. I assured her that you were safe and I that was taking care of you.”

I sit on his couch and cover my face. “Jackson, I am so embarrassed. I’m so sorry.”

“Listen, why don’t you call your friends back while I go walk Ginger, and when I come back we can go get something to eat.” I shake my head, and he insists. “You need to get something in your stomach or you’ll only get sick again.”

I uncover my face and look at him, surprised by how he somehow still manages to look attractive after a night of heavy partying. I notice a bruise on his face and I walk up to him, touching it gently.

“Was this from last night?” I ask, concerned. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault that you got into that fight. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He gently grabs my hand and lightly kisses it. “You told me that you wanted to dance with me last night, so you were trying to make me jealous.” He moves a piece of wet hair away from my eyes with his free hand. “We were all drinking last night, so we weren’t exactly in a logical state of mind. Shit happens; it’s OK.”

He lets go of my hand and grabs Ginger’s leash off the kitchen counter. He calls her over, clipping the leash onto her collar, and plucks his keys from a bowl near the door. He opens the door and turns to look at me again before exiting.

“Lucia, I wanted to dance with you too,” he says, and then shuts the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

After calling Autumn and listening to a scolding speech about how I could have gotten myself killed, I explain to her where I am and what happened last night. She immediately shifts from being upset with me to being excited, and tells me that she now has a newfound respect for Jackson and thinks that I should date him. I laugh and listen to her ramble, putting her on speakerphone and sending a few texts to other friends while she prattles on about marriage.

As I hang up the phone and finish the last text to Danni, Jackson returns from his walk with Ginger. I must look upset, because he takes a seat next to me on the couch, an expression of worry on his face.

“Are you OK?” he asks.

I shake my head and groan. “Not exactly. I acted like a complete fool last night. I drank too much, got you into a fight, worried my friends, and got sick in front of you.” I lean back on the couch. “I’m sorry.”

He covers my mouth with his hand. “I don’t want to hear you apologize again. I already told you that everything is fine. We both did stupid stuff last night.” He looks down at his lap, avoiding eye contact with me. After a brief pause, he changes the subject. “Let’s go find a place to eat, I’m starving.” He grabs my hand and wraps the end of Ginger’s leash around his wrist, guiding us both out of the apartment and locking the door behind us.

We choose a small café only a few blocks away from Jackson’s apartment on the Upper East Side. He lives near Central Park, which is convenient for him considering that his dog needs frequent walking. Jackson knows the owners of the café well, so they allow him to bring Ginger inside on the condition that she will remain quiet and stay near our feet.

We are currently eating our brunch, and I am hungrier than I realized. Jackson is working on a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns while I take bites from a plate full of pancakes. We both are drinking coffee and water. The coffee has already worked wonders for my hangover, and I’m in a much better mood than I was when I first woke up. Jackson is currently explaining to me why he chose to live on the Upper East Side, saying that he never wants to live anywhere else.

He notices me watching as he slips Ginger some sausage and asks, “Do you have any pets?”

I shake my head. “No, but I wish I could. My building doesn’t allow it.” He nods in understanding. “I have to be honest, though; it kind of surprises me that you have a dog. Especially a female dog,” I quickly add, “No offense.”

He laughs deeply, “Do I honestly seem to be that heartless?” I laugh and shake my head. “I got Ginger with my ex-fiancé Lisa. We thought that getting a dog would bring us closer together and help us fix our problems, but it really just showed me that we weren’t actually meant to be together.”

I swallow another bite of pancakes and ask, “How did you know?”

“Well, for starters, she did not warm up to Ginger. She was so cold toward her; she never wanted to pet her, walk her, or even feed her. Plus, Ginger didn’t really care much for Lisa, either.”

“I wonder why,” I say with a smirk.

He smiles. “It just showed me that she and I were more different than I’d thought; I realized that she probably wouldn’t make a very good mother.”

I almost choke on my water when he mentions parenthood. “You want to have children?” I ask, surprised.

His eyes widen with shock. “Do I really come across as that much of an arse?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, it’s just, that you seem more like a George Clooney than a Brad Pitt. You give off the vibe of an eternal bachelor, if you know what I mean.”

He laughs out loud, receiving several stares from other people in the café. I lower my head in embarrassment. I know how I must look, dressed in his baggy clothes; I know what people around us must be thinking.

I groan when I notice an older woman staring at me with her eyebrow raised. I can practically read the judgment on her face.

Jackson hears my moan and asks, “Is your stomach still upset?”

“No, it’s not that,” I say. “People are staring at me because I’m wearing your clothes. They think that we just woke up from a one-night stand.”

“Well, let them think whatever they want.” He gives me a grin and continues to eat his lunch.

The following day, I wash Jackson’s clothes and take them back to his place after work. While riding in the cab, I can’t stop thinking of how our relationship has been changing lately. At work he’s actually been polite, and sometimes even gives me a genuine smile or compliment. I’m not sure why he’s been acting so differently, but I won’t lie and say that I don’t enjoy the new Jackson.

The cab reaches his place and I take a deep breath, walking into his building. I feel confident in a stylishly casual outfit, and I march up to the elevator boldly. Before I can enter, an elderly doorman stops me, wanting to know my reason for being there. I explain that I’m there to see Jackson and the man’s eyes light up.

“Jackson Foster?” he asks. “That’s great; I’ll let him know you’re here.” He offers his hand. “My name is Dennis, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” I reply, shaking his hand. “Mine is Lucia.”

Dennis smiles at me. “That’s certainly a pretty name.” He picks up the phone and dials a number, waiting for Jackson to answer.

While he’s calling I take the opportunity to look around the large lobby. The floor is beautifully tiled, and there is a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Dennis’s desk has a marble top and holds a phone, a security monitor, a laptop, and a newspaper.. The building Jackson lives in appears to be very posh, but I’m honestly not the least bit surprised. Jackson is the kind of man who knows how to spend his money in order to enjoy the finer things in life.

“Miss?” I turn and see Dennis staring at me with a smile. “Jackson says to go ahead.”

I thank him and make my way into the elevator, pushing the button for Jackson’s floor and waiting. I mentally prepare myself, trying to decide exactly what to say to Jackson. I want to appear nonchalant and casual so that I don’t scare him away. I rehearse a sentence in my head,
Hey, I cleaned your clothes and wanted to give them back; thanks again.
Sounds good enough to me.

The door opens with a ding and I see Jackson leaning against the wall, waiting to meet me. He raises an eyebrow when he sees the bag of his clothes in my hand.

I lift up the bag, smiling. “Here are the clothes that you lent me, cleaned and smelling better than before.”
Not the way I rehearsed,
I think to myself,
but it’ll do.