Scared of Beautiful (19 page)

My phone buzzes back a few minutes later and surprisingly the answer is simple:
Okay.
There is a God after all!
Come by later.

The rest of the day moves painfully slowly. I barely register my presence in any of my classes and only just manage to keep up with my lecturers. The thought of seeing Maia this evening dominates every minute of my day. I receive a text from Jill asking about studying later, which I don’t hesitate to reply to with a resounding, yet slightly more politely worded
no
.

My phone rings late afternoon and I’m sure it’s Maia calling to cancel. “Hello?” I answer. Maia’s voice doesn’t greet me on the other end, but one that I miss equally does.

“Forgetting your friends?” the voice asks sarcastically.

“Not at all, Jade,” I quip. “How you doing?”

“Missin’ you and Maia, otherwise okay,” Jade replies casually. “But I called to give you a heads up about something.”

“What’s up?” I ask, my curiosity definitely piqued.

“Word around here is that Emmanuel has something big in the works, big and probably very bad. Supposedly, he’s calling in all his favors for this. He’s real mum about it all. I can’t get anything through the grapevine, but apparently he’s joining the big time. Says you owe him a few favors, too.”

“Pfft,” I laugh dismissively. “I don’t owe Emmanuel shit, and after the massive fuck up he caused with Maia, he better not even think of dialing my number.”

“Hey, hey now, don’t shoot the messenger, just giving you a heads up is all,” replies Jade swiftly.

“Good looking out Jade,” I respond with complete sincerity. “How you been, anyway?” I ask, initiating a quick subject change. “I’m lonely without you here.”

“Doin’ okay. Enjoying not being on that uptight college campus for a bit. Still planning on coming back, though. I thought I had found true love a little while ago, but she ended up getting knocked up by that Timmy kid down the road so… Anyway, why are you lonely? Maia not agreeing to keep you warm yet?”

Typical Jade, her whole life story and the probe into mine, all in one swift movement. “No,” I sigh, suddenly feeling quite deflated. “The more I try to fix things, the more I seem to fuck them up. I don’t even know what I do wrong half the time!”

“Don’t give up,” Jade reassures me. “Maia can be a stone cold bitch sometimes, part of why I love her, but she’ll come around. You know she’s complicated. Anyways, I gotta go, call me sometime.”

Jade hangs up, and I think back on how I ended up at Brown in the first place. I came here to avoid complication, get away from the drama in my life. And here I am, chasing the very thing I was trying to run away from.

I’d give up right now if I weren’t absolutely sure that Maia is worth every minute of complication. As I make my way over to the Bean, a whirlwind of trepidation engulfs me. There’s so much that I want to say to her, but it feels like whatever I do say just pushes her back into the bubble that she has created for herself, further out of my reach.
I’m not going to lie, this friends thing is hard as fuck.
The thought of seeing Maia puts a spring in my step, and unfortunately for me, also an ache in my groin, an itch that no one else, myself included, can scratch.

I park the Mustang off on a side street, in the event that I stay the night. The thought is almost laughable, but still, my dick is hopeful. As I round the corner, the first thing that catches my eye is the last thing that I want to see. The silhouette of Maia’s frame standing outside the Bean in her skinny jeans, with tendrils of her hair floating weightlessly in the breeze that’s picked up, causes my heart to beat erratically and almost uncomfortably in my chest. That’s the thing with us guys, take something away from us, and we want it a million times more.

The smile that has made its way to my lips, however, quickly dissipates as I see that she’s laughing animatedly with same douche that she nearly scalded with coffee this morning. With any luck, he’s pissed and she’s convincing him not to sue.
But I doubt that
. Every fiber in my being erupts in a searing, heated rage, and the first thought I have is to walk over and fucking deck the prick for even talking to her. More so, after the issues that Maia and I have had, truthfully, I want to fuck him up because he has no right to be making her smile like that. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to root myself in place on the sidewalk in an effort to calm the fuck down. I watch in abject horror as he leans in to say something and she ducks her head away in a shy smile.
Fucking asshole
. Not that I know him, but he’s fucking asshole all the same. I let the scene play out for a few more seconds before I purposefully make my way over to the Bean.

Maia

The guy who I accidentally scalded with my much-needed coffee this morning turns out to be a medical intern at Rhode Island Hospital named Blake Carson. I was shocked as hell when he pulled me aside outside of the Bean to strike up a conversation. I laugh because he’s genuinely funny, and continue the conversation at least partially because I know that Jackson will be walking down the street at any given moment. If I hadn’t been so intent on getting the hell out of dodge and away from Jackson this morning, I may have noticed that Blake is nothing short of a god. He has that expensive, well-bred look about him, but without the pompous arrogance of Bryce, and the same kind homely feel that Jackson has. With the sandy blonde waves that casually frame his face, tan and lean swimmer’s physique, and soft hazel eyes, Blake is the kind of guy for whom women would drool, fight over and fall for.

“Seriously though, you do owe me a shirt. So maybe you can take me shopping and I can buy you lunch?” says Blake, with a teasing glint in his eye.

I smile at his not so subtle hint at taking me out, but don’t offer any more. Truthfully he’s not Jackson. He never will be. A slight pang of guilty finds its way to my gut at the thought of entertaining this chat with Blake just to make Jackson jealous. And further, if Jackson isn’t jealous, I may very well just be gutted. I open my mouth to respond to Blake’s offer, when in my peripheral vision I see Jackson sauntering across the road. He offers me a placid smile as he closes in on us, and it erupts a bevy of butterflies in my stomach. That’s more than Blake achieved in ten minutes of conversation. He strolls over and plants a kiss on my cheek, blatantly ignoring Blake, who shifts uncomfortably as the display of territorial demarcation happening in front of him.

“Hi,” I say awkwardly, hoping to extinguish the awkwardness. Just when I think I can get away with saying goodbye to Blake in a dignified manner, Jackson squares off and faces him.

“And you are?” he practically spits at Blake, who registers a very brief look of shock before his face hardens into a scowl.

“Don’t worry about me, man, who the hell are you, and why are you getting in my face?” Blake holds his own. He doesn’t even flinch at Jackson’s intimidating stance.

My stomach knots in nervous apprehension, anxiety slowly making its presence known. “Jackson,” I say softly, placing a hand gently on his arm, while I watch his jaw work solidly in an attempt to control his anger.

“You should go,” he says to Blake through clenched teeth, never backing down with his murderous glare, and angling his body so that he effectively positions himself between the two of us.

“Maia?” Blake looks to me for confirmation.

“It’s fine Blake,” I say with muted enthusiasm. He offers me a warm smile and nods before turning and walking off, not dignifying Jackson’s presence with even a glance in his direction.

Jackson turns to me, but before he even faces me directly, I turn around sharply and start off towards my apartment.

“Maia!” he says desperately, grabbing onto my arm in arm attempt to slow me down. I shake him off fiercely, but stop walking.

“What?” I ask abruptly, seething from this display of God only knows what.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson says ruefully.

“Sorry?” I almost laugh at the comment. “For what, for the fact that you think you own me, even though we are not together? Or for behaving like a barbarian in front of someone who was just being nice? Or maybe it’s that we broke up because you decided to get lap dances from whores. Or is it because you got caught?” The last two sentences fly from my mouth before my brain can stop them.

Jackson eyes widen in surprise. “What the fuck, Maia? How did you think I would react to that? The fact that you decided to end things with me does not mean that my feelings for you just up and vanished! As for the so-called lap dances, I wasn’t even lucid when that photo was taken. God, can we please just fucking move past that already!” Jackson’s voice spikes in frustration. He runs his hands over his head and down the back of his neck.

Honestly, I don’t know what to say.
Am I being stupid by not letting this go?
How the hell do I convince myself to trust him, after every instinct I have learned in my nineteen years tells me to protect myself from the pain that this type of love comes with?

“You don’t own me, you never will,” I reply with volition. “Get that straight right now. And you don’t get to come at me, or the people who I talk to, like that. Because, you don’t own me.” People walking past us on the street eye us with interest.
Everybody loves a good fight right?

“You’re right,” Jackson sighs, deflated. “But
you
own
me
. You have since the day I met you. Ask me to change whatever you want, but don’t ask me to change that. I can try to be your friend because even if it’s in a small way, I need you. You made your decision about us and I promise to respect that. Don’t ask me to give up on us though.” Jackson’s eyes never leave mine and his voice softens. “You don’t get to decide how I feel, either.”

My heart splinters at Jackson’s words, the pain of what I’m doing resonates down to my very soul. “Jackson, I put you at arm’s length because that’s all I can give you right now, and maybe forever. Can you be my friend and accept that even though I love you, I may never let you back in to where we were?”

“If that’s what it takes to not lose you, then yes.” Jackson’s response is firm, resolute. “I’ve wasted a lot of time these last few years with how I lived, and however you decide to have me, I’m not wasting a second with you. Until you tell me otherwise.”

“Friends?” I say holding out a hand.

“Friends,” Jackson responds smiling, and pulls me into a warm and very platonic hug, which makes my heart break, again.

The white elephant in the room has shrunk ostensibly since our talk outside, and I find myself settling into Jackson’s easy nature after we take our newfound friendship into the café.

“Jade called me today,” Jackson says casually.

“Really, how is she?” I miss Jade so much. I miss my daily dose of crazy.

“Doing okay, said she misses you and sends her love,” he replies. “She didn’t say much about when she’d be back though.” Jackson always seems to be able to pre-empt the next words out of my mouth. “Meanwhile,” he continues after taking a swig of his beer, “know anyone who needs an employee? I need to start trawling the wanted ads soon.”

“Oh, why, I thought you had a full ride?” I ask curiously.

“I do,” he replies, “but it covers my tuition and books, with a separate portion for living. So from that I gotta pay for meals, the dorm, and whatever else. It was okay when I still had savings from the auto shop. But now I need to work a little.”

A thin veil of apprehension settles over me. The last time I suggested to Jackson that I pay for something didn’t go so well. But I do it anyway. Maybe the
just friends
version of us has a little less pride. “Would you consider a loan?” I say tentatively. Yeah, the
just friends
version of us is just as proud, and I know that be the way Jackson’s shoulders tense noticeably as soon as the words leave my mouth.

“Maia, you know how I feel about that,” he replies simply, and then stops talking, as if to say that the conversation ends right there.

“Well,” I push on anyway, “I can fund a private scholarship through my company, that money technically doesn’t belong to me.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “The money still comes from you, Maia, and I don’t need charity, okay?” He says the last part low, and I decide to leave it alone for now.

The
just friends
version of us becomes easier as we settle into casual conversation, leaving the topics of Atlanta and college funding well away from the banter. Jackson knocks back the beers steadily, and while I can see that he is nowhere near drunk, I still know that he is in no position to drive back to the campus. I wonder, for a brief moment if that was his intention, or has been, all along. And the thought doesn’t sit well with me, not at all.