Scared of Beautiful (15 page)

“For?” she asks, looking up at me.

“For being so amazing today. I was worried how everything would turn out. Somehow knowing you’d be there at the end of it all helped,” I reply.

“Daniella’s easy to fall in love with, your parents are amazing, and as long as you are okay with Shana, then so am I,” she answers simply. I lean down and her lips meet mine. Maia almost seems too good to be true, and I pray that my streak of good things turning to shit is finally over.

Maia

I’m proud of myself for today, I must admit. If Jackson only knew that the whole of me was a very deep well of insecurity. The perks of being an ex-socialite: I can turn the façade on, and put the walls up when necessary. Pretend like I don’t wish that this whole situation was simpler, that all these complications would all just disappear. But for that to happen, Jackson would have to disappear too, and my body stiffens, threatening to break into sobs at just the thought. I could forget about everything, as I lay right here, entangled in him. We could. Hell, I could die right here.

“So, what happens now?” I ask feigning nonchalance. My head stays against his chest, too afraid to meet his eyes.

“With?” Jackson asks.

“With Daniella and Shana, I mean. Do you need to move back here?” I gulp back the knot that’s forming in my throat, almost afraid to hear what Jackson will say.

“Nothing. Shana lives in California, she’s engaged. Has no desire to move back here at all. So I guess we go back to Providence, I look for a part time job there, and I’ll see her when I can.” Jackson’s reply causes my whole body to sag with relief.

“So stay with me.” The words leave my mouth before I can suppress them. It’s one thing to get this close to someone so quickly, and a whole other thing to ask him to move in with you.
Shit! What did I do?

“Maia, not that I wouldn’t love to wake up next to you every day, but, it’s just, have you really thought this through? Are you sure that’s what you want?” Jackson tilts my chin and eyes me seriously.

No turning back now.
The most redemption I can hope for right now is to stick with the practicalities of the situation, and hope that I don’t sound like a stalker in the making. “It makes sense, you’re closer to the town center, easier to get a part time job, and no expenses from living on campus.” I shrug my shoulders with as much blasé as I can manage. “Offer’s available, and it is a two bedroom. We can have our own rooms,” I say teasingly.

Jackson flips me onto my back and presses his body against mine, his arms beside my head. “Deal's off,” he says, his voice low and gravelly as he leans into my neck. A thousand butterflies erupt in my stomach, and heat radiates through me. “Unless I spend every night with your legs tangled around me, deal’s off.” His voice is barely a whisper as his lips trail soft kisses down my shoulder. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist pulling him into me. I can feel his hardness pressed against my leg, and the idea of the clothing that is separating us is driving me crazy. Jackson’s hand slides down into my underwear as his lips find mine. His hand and lips move in perfect synchronicity, causing my body to arc towards him. He brings a finger to my mouth, warning me to keep it down. His hand works faster, and just as my whole body is about to explode, he slides it away and gives me a coy grin. “These can’t have all the fun,” he says cockily just before sliding down and taking my breast in his mouth.

My entire body feels lit up, from the inside. I need Jackson.
Right fucking now
. I jerk his head upwards and unbutton his jeans. As I take him in my hands, a low groan emits from his throat. “This,” I say breathlessly, holding his eye, “this is what I want.”

Jackson was working hard to contain himself, I could see, but those words were the last straw. In one quick movement his jeans are off, and so are mine. Pinning my hands above my head, he pushes into me, slowly at first. Each thrust moves me closer and closer to the edge. His eyes never leave mine as I fight to suppress my screams. I’ve yelled his name a thousand times in my mind already. His lips find mine as my legs wrap fiercely around his waist, forcing him in deeper. As my body reaches its breaking point, I press my mouth onto Jackson’s, the only way to stop me from crying out. Jackson leans his head into my shoulder and lays over me. Neither of us wants to move. My body still feels live, like a sparking wire. His breath is ragged in my ear, our bodies sticky against each other.
Fuck everything else, after what I just felt, no one can tell me that this is not real.
We lay there for what feels like hours. Through the window, I can see the sun glowing iridescent as it sets over the horizon. This may be a brief moment of happiness in a fractured reality, but it’s worth it.

Jackson rolls onto his side and props his head on his elbows. “Did you mean it? You really want me to stay with you?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you want to,” I say cautiously. “I guess you’re useful,” I say eyeing his naked lower half coyly. The joke is just a ruse, my feeble attempt at hiding my own insecurities and fear of rejection. For as much as I trust Jackson, a part of me won’t let my guard down completely, and maybe I never will. Maybe I’m just destined to keep these defense mechanisms as a means of self-preservation.

Jackson trails a finger down my shoulder. “You’re most beautiful like this,” he says softly.

“After sex?” I laugh, imagining my over flushed cheeks and bedroom hair.

“That too, but I mean when you’re vulnerable. It’s honest.”

I shift uncomfortably. I don’t like vulnerable. Vulnerable and easily toyed with was the old me, the me that I need to forget and move on from.

Noticing my now tense demeanor, Jackson turns my cheek to face him. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t promise you I never will. I won’t promise you something that I can’t completely control. But I promise you that you can trust me. You can trust that I will try every day never to hurt you.” A solitary tear rolls down my cheek as I avoid Jackson’s eyes. “Forget telling you, let me show you.”

He pulls me onto his lap, sitting me up and kisses me softly, a kiss so sweet yet so filled with passion that it weakens my legs and sends a delicious shiver down my spine. He slides me onto him and rocks me tenderly, holding me firmly against him. The room around me fades as my body surrenders, soul and all, to Jackson. A realization hits me as my fingers knead into his back.
I let him into my world, I already have, and I’m terrified of losing him.
This is one broken heart I couldn’t live with. I hold on to him with every fiber of my being.

Eventually we manage to disentangle ourselves, spent and completely euphoric. We decide on separate showers because truthfully, the exhaustion versus the temptation of being naked in such close proximity to each other is a conundrum all on its own.

I feel eyes on me as I slide my jeans up my thighs. “What?” I ask.

“So, do you feel like going out tonight?” Jackson asks apprehensively, avoiding my gaze. I get the distinct impression that he wants me to decline.

“To where?” A nervous knot forms in my stomach.

“Emmanuel invited us to go to a club.” Jackson sighs, as though he’s waiting on the torrent of expletives that should leave my mouth at the mention of Emmanuel’s name and the suggestion that I actually spend more than five seconds in the fool’s company.

“You should go,” I reply, walking over and lacing my fingers round the back of his head. “I think he’s an asshole, but he is your friend, so go.” The words exit my mouth with confident fluidity, but every part of me wants to beg him to stay here with me.
Jesus, I hate this neediness that Jackson has stirred in me.
Such weakness.

“Really?” He’s dubious about my response, and with good reason. “If you’re sure,” he says finally, reaching for his phone amidst the disheveled sheets. My gut tells me that this is not a good idea. Jackson’s hot and sweet, and has just enough of a bad boy edge to make him extremely fuckable. But I trust him; if I’m going to love him, I have no choice.

Jackson

Truth be told, I don’t really want to be anywhere but with Maia tonight.
Or any night
. But I have to show my face, rep is everything in these parts. Plus, the friends I have who are not assholes like Emmanuel deserve a look in. No doubt that in my absence my parents will search their memory banks for my most embarrassing childhood moments to pass on to Maia. It’s all good, though; she knows the worst of me so far and loves me anyway.

“You look hot,” Maia comments from the edge of the bed as I button up my ice blue shirt. The quiver in her voice betrays her as she feigns nonchalance.

“I can stay,” I say for the hundredth time this evening.
But the answer won’t change.

“No, go,” she says absently. I lean down and give her the most reassuring kiss I can. I hear the bass from Emmanuel’s truck before it pulls up, and make my exit before guilt tells me to keep my ass at home. As I leave, Maia follows me into the kitchen, where my mother is filling the house with the most delicious aromas. My mother gives Maia a soft smile and shoots me a hard, disapproving glare as I leave.

Emmanuel doesn’t change, he never will
. Heavy bass beats over a hip hop track, which I can guess it either about bitches or weed. The bass reverberates against my back, the music all but deafens me as I slide into the passenger seat. Shotgun, just like old times. Our old crew, Tripp, Mike, and Daryl look more than faded. Now more than ever I realize that I’m so over this fucking shit. Before we drive off, Emmanuel throws me a Corona and a blunt. I stare down at the offending weed and pass it back.

“What’s the matter, Ivy League? Smoke up, the night’s young. And Amber’s waiting for you at the club,” he shouts over the music with a sly smile. I crack open the Corona and lay the joint on the dash, and Emmanuel’s attitude tells me that this pisses him off.

No one talks on the way to the club, ‘cause who the fuck can say anything over this loud ass music? Club 40 is exactly where I left it, the same raggedy ass strippers polluting the entryway, the same high as hell fools looking for a fight.

“So, remember I said Amber’s waiting for you? She missed you man. Last time I did her she couldn’t stop talking about you.” Emmanuel chides confidently as we amble over to the club’s door.

Even his gangsta lean pisses me the fuck off these days. “Not interested,” I say plainly. I have no intention of contributing anymore to this fucked up plan of his.
Why in the hell would I need to stick my dick into some filthy stripper with Maia at home?

“Man, stop being a pussy! What the girl at home don’t know won’t hurt her.” Always the argument. Screw now, think later. I turn to face him.

“I’ll know, so quit with this shit already. It’s not happening. The weed, whatever else is stashed in your pocket, none of it, and especially not Amber.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, “Alright man, but don’t say I didn’t try to hook you up.”

The distinct smell of Club 40 assaults my nostrils as I walk in. Nothing but sex and weed, and too many fools who don’t own deodorant. The more steps we take inside, the more I regret not staying at home with Maia. Before too long, I’m running into people that I know, some I’d rather not.

As promised, Amber is there, front and center. Her stretch mark-covered breasts bulge out of an ugly looking corset, and leather hot pants add to the foul opinion I have of her. Seeing her does nothing but make me think of Maia’s smooth breasts and perky ass. My dick rises to attention at the thought, as I try to ignore Amber grinding against me. She raises her head and gives me her best attempt at a seductive grin, and reaches down to grab my crotch. “Not for you,” I yell over the music, moving her wrist away with necessary force. Her eyes flash anger and hurt, before she turns away, whispers something to Emmanuel and stalks off.
Fucking classless whore.

As the night rolls on and the drinks keep flowing, I find myself loosening up, even managing to converse on a real level with Emmanuel once or twice. It’s no surprise that after hearing that I was at Brown, loose women from all over the place are desperately trying to get my attention. And this baffles me, I’m still fucking broke, still driving the same car, and not looking to take any of these hood rats from the ghetto and rehabilitate them. I am impressed at how many of them actually do think of the future.
More classless whores
. Emmanuel threatens a few wannabe gangstas who are getting a little anxious that their women keep trying to ride my dick.