Tattered, p.32
Tattered, page 32
“Sure are a lot of stars. You don’t see stars like this in the city.”
I nodded. “I love it out here. I come out as much as I can in the summer to enjoy them. I live right over there.” I pointed past him to the back of my parents’ house. “Above the garage.” Yes, it was borderline loser to live twenty feet from my parents, but it was free and there wasn’t a huge rental market in Lark Cove.
Jackson’s boots skidded on the wood chips as he stopped his swing and stood. With his hand extended, he nodded to my place. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
I practically flew out of my seat. The minute my fingers slid against his palm, I got another one of those zaps. My breathing came in erratic pants rather than smooth ins and outs as he led me toward my house. With every step, I wished home wasn’t so close and my mom’s garden miles away, not just yards.
I tried not to wiggle my fingers, keeping them still in his grip so he wouldn’t let me go. But I was so excited to be holding Jackson’s hand, it was nearly impossible. Every atom in my body was buzzing. Never before had electrons whirled around protons and neutrons so fast.
Much too soon, we reached the base of the staircase that ran up the backside of the garage. I’d expected him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t. He towered over my five-five with an odd stare.
Maybe it was the light, or lack thereof, but his eyes seemed duller than usual, the blue clouded by a slight haze, and they looked tired.
I would stand here forever holding Jackson’s hand, but as exhaustion rolled off his wide shoulders, I reluctantly slipped my hand free. “I, um . . . thanks. Maybe we could—”
One moment I was trying to find the words to ask him out to dinner. The next, he was kissing me.
Jackson Page was kissing me.
On the lips.
His thick hands came to my cheeks. His calloused fingers slipped into the roots of my hair. And his tongue ran over my bottom lip.
My eyes went wide. Was this happening? His eyelids were closed. His nose was brushing mine. Our mouths were touching.
Jackson Page was kissing me. On. The. Lips!
I couldn’t not smile. When I did, he took advantage of the part in my lips and his tongue slid inside, tickling the inside of my cheek.
I gasped and turned to mush. Gripping his forearms so I wouldn’t fall, I relaxed completely into his kiss, letting my eyelids fall. His taste was incredible. It was minty with a hint of citrus. There was something else on his tongue too, but I wasn’t sure what.
Hesitantly, I stroked my tongue against his. I had no idea if I was doing this right, but when Jackson moaned into my mouth, I did it again.
From there, whatever he did, I copied. When he crested his tongue over my top lip, I did the same to his bottom. When he nipped at the corner of my mouth, I gave him one right back. And when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, I waited until his was free, then did the same.
It was hot and wet and magic.
The scruff on his jaw made the skin around my lips the exact right amount of raw. An ache unlike anything I’d felt before curled in my belly. A throb pulsed between my legs. Without thinking, I shuffled my hips closer, brushing against the hardness in his jeans.
He hissed, sending a blast of air between us that cooled the wet skin above my lip. Then after one last lick, he pulled away.
“Sorry,” he whispered, not letting go of my face. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t,” I breathed. “Don’t be sorry.”
Because I’d never be sorry for that kiss.
My first kiss.
Something I’d avoided for years because I’d been waiting for this kiss with Jackson.
“I’d better go.” His hands dropped from my face and he planted a soft kiss on my forehead. Then he backed away three steps before turning around. Even then, he glanced over his shoulder a couple of times as he walked through my parents’ yard.
I waved and hurried up my stairs. The minute I closed the door behind me, I went to the window beside the door since it overlooked the playground. Crouched on my floor, hidden behind a curtain, I watched as Jackson passed the swings and the silver slide. It didn’t take him long to step back onto the sidewalk and turn toward his house.
When he disappeared behind the corner of the school, I sank to the floor and let a happy grin stretch my cheeks.
After years of watching and waiting and hoping, Jackson had finally noticed me.
Me, the shy girl who’d loved him from a distance. Tonight, he’d made one of my dreams come true.
Sleep didn’t come easy after my kiss with Jackson. I replayed it over and over and over, touching my swollen lips until eventually I crashed around four a.m. When my alarm went off at six, I jumped out of bed with a perky smile, like I’d slept for a day.
The smile stayed all day long. Every time I got weary, I’d think of Jackson’s kiss and get hit with a fresh burst of energy.
By six o’clock, I was eager to get away from the camp. Not because I hadn’t had a great day with the kids and my staff, but because I wanted so badly to see Jackson again. So instead of going home, like I normally did on Tuesday evenings, I steered my Ford Escape toward the bar.
The parking lot was full but I squeezed into a tight space in the last row. I did a quick check in my visor mirror, pulling my hair into a topknot and smearing on some lip gloss. Then I popped a piece of cinnamon gum. I doubted Jackson would kiss me while working, but he might and I wanted to be prepared.
I walked into the bar with a confidence I hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever. I strolled right up to the bar, sliding into a rickety old stool next to Wayne and Ronny, two locals who came down to the bar most nights. Normally, I picked a table in the middle of the room or a booth in the corner, somewhere I wasn’t conspicuous.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I was going to be front and center.
“Hi, guys.”
“Hey, Willa.” Wayne patted my shoulder. “How are you today?”
“I’m great. How are you?”
“Can’t complain.”
I loved that Wayne always had a smile. I’d known him my entire life and couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in a good mood. Even during his divorce. He was in his late fifties, like my dad, and worked at the school doing maintenance. He’d always walk the halls whistling a cheery tune.
“Um, is Jackson here tonight?” I asked, my eyes scanning the bar.
Wayne didn’t answer because at that moment, Jackson came out of the back carrying a pizza pan. He delivered it to one of the tables, then came back around the bar.
The minute he made eye contact, my heart jumped into my throat. “Hey,” I breathed as the smile on my face got impossibly wider.
Jackson grinned. “Hey, Willow. What can I get for you?”
My smile faltered. Willow? I stared at him, hoping he’d start laughing at his not-so-funny joke, but he just stood there, waiting to take my drink order.
“It’s Willa. With an a,” I snapped. “Will-a.”
He winced. “Sorry. I suck at names. Did you want a drink?”
I suck at names. That’s how he was going to play this? He was going to pretend that last night hadn’t happened? Was kissing me really so bad that he’d resort to childish games?
“I’ll get your drink, Willa,” Wayne offered. “How about a Bud Light?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Coming up.” Jackson whipped a pint glass from beneath the bar and took it to the tap.
“It’s still weird to me that you’re old enough to drink.” Wayne chuckled. “I remember you coming into the school every summer when you were just a little thing, helping your daddy get his classroom all ready for the school year.”
I faked a smile for Wayne as Jackson set down my beer.
He turned and grabbed a bottle of aspirin from behind the cash register, opening the cap and popping a couple of pills into his mouth.
“Not feeling good?” Ronny asked.
Jackson shook his head. “I haven’t had a bitch of a hangover like this in years. The damn thing has lasted all day. Remind me never to do tequila shots, then smoke a joint with the tourists again. I’m a fucking dumbass.”
Ronny and Wayne both laughed.
I did not.
Tequila and weed. That was the taste I couldn’t pinpoint last night. That was the reason for the haze in his eyes. He’d been drunk and high during my first kiss.
“Did you stay out late?” Ronny asked Jackson.
He shrugged. “Not really. I closed up around midnight after the tourists left the bar. Walked home and passed out.”
I stared at his profile, waiting for his eyes to at least flicker my way. He was forgetting a stop on his stroll home. Was that intentional? Did he not want Wayne and Ronny to know he’d even talked to me? Or had he forgotten me completely in his inebriated state?
“You just went home and fell asleep?” I asked.
He glanced over. “Pretty much. Had some crazy dreams though.”
I narrowed my gaze, assessing his expression. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t omitting pieces of his story.
He really had forgotten.
He’d forgotten the best night of my life. The best first kiss in the history of first kisses.
He’d forgotten me.
The pain nearly knocked me off my stool. Jackson continued to chat with Wayne and Ronny while I stared unblinking at my beer glass. The bubbles collected on the rim, then burst.
Like my heart.
Enough, Willa. Enough.
My friends had told me for years to move on, to forget my schoolgirl crush on Jackson and go after a man who actually knew I existed.
But I’d nurtured and coddled the fantasy for nine years.
I’d finally had enough. This was the kick in the rear I’d needed to let him go. In a way, I was glad this had all happened.
Yep, glad. Super glad.
G-L-A-D, glad.
He was just a silly dream.
And it was time to chase a new one.
Devney Perry, Tattered
