Page 63 of Middle Ground

“Where are you going?” I ask. “The inn’s back there.”

He nods. “I’m aware.”

My protests go unacknowledged until Jackson whips his car into the parking lot of Fraisier Creek High School. Class has already let out for the day, so the lot is empty except for the odd vehicle belonging to teachers and custodial staff.

“Taking me to relive my glory days?” I ask.

Jackson looks over at me, his eyes making a slow perusal of my body, and then he grins. “Come on, Ellison. We both know you didn’t peak in high school.”

Jackson unclicks his seatbelt and then he’s pushing out of the car. I follow suit, more curious than I want to be. As it is, I’m not even sure why I’m going along with this. The air conditioning in Jackson’s fancy car only did so much to brighten my mood—I’m still incredibly tired and dripping in boob sweat.

I meet Jackson at the hood of the car. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

“We’re going to have some good old-fashioned, small-town fun,” he replies, then begins to loosen his tie. “Think you can handle that?”

I glower. “What part of me being tired and sweaty made you think I would want to take part in whatever this is?”

He sighs. “I hate to play this card, but you owe me.”

I scoff. “I’ll give you two dollars for the gas you burned.”

“Just humour me. Please?”

“Fine.” Then I realize that both his tie and suit jacket are lying on the hood of his car. His fingers are now fiddling with his belt buckle. “Why the hell are you taking your clothes off in a schoolparking lot?”

“Because we’re going to the creek.”

“The creek?”

He shrugs. “I overheard Ashley talking to a friend about it. Seems as good a place as any to spend the afternoon.”

While my initial instinct is to blow him off, I don’t.

“Alright, Hotshot. But unless you want to choke on teen spirit, you’ll follow me. I know a better spot.”

Jackson nudges my arm. “You seem awfully familiar with this place.”

I offer him a crooked grin. “Oh, I totally used to skip school to make out with boys here. Mostly Rudy.”

“The pizza guy?”

“The one and only.”

An odd expression crosses his face, but it disappears just as quickly as it arrived. We walk through the trees, away from the school and the local hangout spot, until we hit a secluded part of the creek farther down.

When I turn to Jackson, I stop short. The sight of him carefully unbuttoning his shirt has my mouth watering. But then I notice he has a small scar running down the middle of his chest, between his pecs.

I’m staring. IknowI’m staring, but can I will my eyes away? Not a chance in hell. Which is exactly where I’ll be headed for lusting after my business partner and eyeing his scars.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

My head snaps up. “What thing?”

He smirks. “That thing where you can’t keep your eyes offme.”

I scoff, crossing my arms. “Don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy.”

“Don’t need to. You do such a good job of that already.”