Page 62

Marlow

“Are you okay?” Panic shrouds Tealey’s tone.

“Yes, I’m okay,” I whisper.

“Thank God.” Yawning, she asks, “Then why are you calling me at . . .” She pauses, I assume to check the time. “Four thirty-six?” Maybe I shouldn’t have called, but I need to talk through my feelings with someone I trust.

“What am I doing, Teals?” I ask, confused by my revolving emotions.

Jackson and I were supposed to be a little fun.

Nothing more.

Sex —the casual kind with no strings involved.

That’s worked great for a while, but he only knows a portion of my situation.

I have no room in my life right now for the added commitment.

None of that will come as a surprise to him.

I’ve never portrayed myself to be any different.

But no one could have predicted Jackson and I would hook up.

Least of all, the two of us. We’ve always been more different than alike in our views on life.

From art to movies, food to cocktails, how we like to spend our time to how we spend our money, Jackson St. James couldn’t be a worse match for me.

“I don’t know. What are you doing?”

I peek back into the bedroom, where Jackson sleeps so peacefully. The moonlight glides over the cut of his muscles and the sharp corner of his jaw. Crossing the living room so I don’t wake him, I say, “I should leave, but my gut tells me to stay.”

“Then you should stay.”

“I can’t do this, though.”

An impatient sigh, which is uncharacteristic for my friend, is heard. “Marlow?”

“Yeah?”

She gulps and then says, “You’ve been doing this with Jackson for some time now.

Hold on . . . Let me get out of bed so I don’t wake Rad.

” I hang on the line, listening to the soft shuffling from her end of the call.

“Okay, we can talk now. Tell me, Marlow, what’s so different about tonight than the other nights you two have been together? ”

“We kissed. He kissed me, and I kissed him.”

“I know.” A light giggle permeates the line. “We were all there.”

Sitting on the windowsill, I say, “It?—”

She gasps. “Wait. I may be a little slow at this hour, but I just realized what you meant. You and Jackson don’t kiss?”

“We kiss in . . . hrm . . . How do I put this? We kiss in certain ways, but we don’t kiss like we did tonight.”

“I had no idea.” Her voice is clearer, the fog of sleep stripped away. “I thought?—”

“I know.”

“So . . . ” She pauses again. I can tell by her humming that she’s hesitant to speak her mind.

“It’s okay. You know I’ll tell you anything.”

Lowering her voice, she says, “How was it?”

“It was amazing.” Just like him. I keep that part to myself, though. Generally, I’m an open book, but sometimes, I keep my cards close to my chest. Jackson is one of those cards. My finances are another.

But I smile, thinking of how he makes me laugh when he gives me a hard time about pretty much everything. But then he looks at me like I’m more than he could ask for. The man is gorgeous with his GQ face and a body that is hard everywhere except when it comes to his heart.

I’m dramatic and over the top, and sometimes self-absorbed. So I’ve been told. Though I can admit to the tendencies and see the worst of my parents in me, Jackson seems to have a soft spot for me.

Go figure.

Tealey asks, “Amazing is amazing , so why are you calling me when you could be with him right now?”

“I . . .” I stand back up and pace in front of the windows, staring out into the darkness of the night.

Lights dot the cityscape like stars in the sky.

“What if I mess it up?” That would be so like me.

I not only have a knack for falling into traps but I’ve caused a few catastrophes as well and never portrayed myself any different.

It’s just safer to be alone.

“You won’t,” she says. “Jackson knows who you are, and that’s who he wants.”

“I don’t want him to hurt me.” I clear my throat softly to clear the emotions threatening to clog.

“Every man I’ve ever trusted has hurt me in one way or another.

Cheating boyfriends in high school or guys who dumped me in college to the ultimate betrayal of my dad.

Always traveling to a new movie set, he left the house manager to raise me.

And let me tell you, she wasn’t paid enough for that job.

I may have felt abandoned by my parents physically, but I knew I would always have a safety net financially.

I never thought my dad was capable of doing what he did.

” I tear up. “The lies. I can’t get past the lies he told me. ”

“You don’t need to forget or forgive right now. That can come in time if you so wish, but those situations are better handled after sunrise. As for Jackson, he’s not like your dad or any of those loser boyfriends.”

I stop and cross my arm over my chest, holding my hand on my other bicep. “I’m messed up, Tealey. I don’t want to hurt him either.”

“Then don’t.”

The answers come so easily to her. I always thought as a social worker, she’d see things as right or wrong, fair or unfair, but she lives in the gray area, her heart empathetic to others.

That’s not a trait I was born with, but I’m envious of her.

I’m so fortunate to have her in my life.

She knows my heart, and I’ll be forever grateful for her friendship.

“Maybe it is that easy,” I say, “and I’m overthinking this. The man didn’t ask me to marry him. It was only a kiss, no matter how amazing it was.”

“I can tell you’re tired. Go easy on yourself and get some rest, Marlow. You can deal with everything in the light of day instead of self-sabotaging yourself in the late hour.”

The university’s freshmen orientation may have brought Tealey and Cammie into my life, but our friendship has thrived over the years. The weight of my worries begins to dissipate. “Why do I feel like I have to solve all my problems tonight?”

“I don’t know. You have a lot going on in your life, so maybe that’s making you restless.”

“You’re right.” Thinking about Jackson brings a smile to my face. “I can go back in there and just sleep.”

“Exactly. Just enjoy your time with him.”

Breathing becomes easier. “Hey,” I whisper, “thanks for answering.”

“Always. Go have a good night.”

“You, too. Good night.”

I hang up and return my phone to my bag before slipping back into bed. There’s no great production. Jackson just rolls over and wraps me in his arms again like we’ve done this a million times.

Reveling in the feel of him pressed against me, I close my eyes, feeling safe, feeling cared for, feeling cherished, and fall back asleep.

Startling awake in the gentle light of the rising sun, I gasp as my heart races. Fortunately, Jackson’s still asleep next to me.

Not closing the blinds before we fell into bed was a mistake, although understandable since he’s utterly distracting. The man is a modern-day Adonis, and he kept his promise. I forgot all about the rest of the world. At least for a few hours.

I gently maneuver out from under the heaviness of his arm, the heat too much to stay covered, and then shield my eyes from the brightness pouring in from the outside.

Tiptoeing across the room, I go into the bathroom to freshen up. The giddiness I felt only hours ago has settled into the pit of my stomach, making me question myself all over again.

When I return to the bedroom, I stop at the end of the bed and debate what I should be doing. Leaving should be easy. It’s something I’ve done many times before. He’s walked out my door just the same, if not more. So why is my heart not as sure as my head this time?

I reach down for my dress and slip it on, zipping up the back.

Jackson St. James and I are a disaster in the making.

As different as we are, we’re too alike when it comes to relationships. We burn them to the ground before they have a chance to flicker into a flame. I put one shoe on and then lean down to put on the other.

Jackson will hate me.

But he’ll thank me one day for leaving.

I’m not emotionally built like either of my friends—Tealey, the hopeless romantic, or Cammie, the woman born to be a mother.

I take one last look at the man who opened his heart to me and, in the process, opened mine before walking to the door. I stop with my back to him.

Why am I hesitating?

Why am I fighting this?

I was raised by two dysfunctional people in the Hollywood Hills who still can’t figure out their own lives, even after being divorced from each other for fifteen years. Staying goes against my inherited nature.

They’ve had other marriages between them and countless affairs. Breakups, makeups, and a few days of being single amongst the ruins of their relationships. And their life choices have spilled down on me.

Other than my friends, I’ve never had anyone I could count on. Cam and Teals taught me the meaning of true friendship, but why continue to pretend I’m capable of ever opening my heart again when it comes to men? I’m not, especially not at this point in my life.

I already have enough trouble and don’t need to add to the pile. I’m saving him from a disaster down the road.

I look at him, sleeping so soundly, his hair growing darker with the years, his jaw that tenses during sex is relaxed. He’s so handsome that sometimes I have to look away, not feeling worthy of the way he looks at me like I’m not as damaged.

Sex with Jackson is incredible, but why’d we have to get our feelings involved?

I take a deep, staggering breath and make my way from the bedroom through his apartment, snapping up my clutch from the table near the door. There’s no reason I should stay, but a million reasons why I should go, including a package waiting for me at home.

Leave now. Get out before I’m in too deep and drag him down with me.

He didn’t act drunk, but I’m going to chalk up this night and the emotions we tangled ourselves up in and blame it on the alcohol and holiday.

Jackson’s friendship is worth protecting, even from myself, because I couldn’t stop myself from falling for him.

Falling?

No. That’s not possible.

This is too much to think about at six in the morning.

It will be best if I just start that walk home now to get it over with. After all, there is no shame in my heel game. And these red soles are still stunning even at this hour.

I open the door and head for the elevator, also not ashamed of leaving at sunrise.

Why would I be? I have needs and desires, and I enjoy feeling pleasure.

Weaker men tell me I fuck like a man because I can walk away right after.

What can I say? It’s a specialty of mine.

Clearly. But if their egos are too fragile, then we have no business tangling in the sheets either.

Cutting through the lobby straight to the sidewalk to call a cab, I raise my arm into the air. I think cabbies know this time of hour is golden for getting low-key fares. One pulls to the curb, and I hop in, giving the driver my address.

As the cab drives away, I don’t bother looking back, but my chest twists in doubt. Maybe I shouldn’t have left while he was sleeping. What’s he going to think when he wakes up? Or maybe it won’t matter because it usually doesn’t.

Last night mattered.

It did to me.

I’m sure it did to him.

We both know it was different. The night was infused with feelings, even if we did put off delving into deeper conversations.

Should I have left a note or made coffee or something to ease that blow? Unlike most men, nothing about Jackson is delicate. He gives as good as he gets and never thinks twice about walking away when he knows it’s not right.

Will he know we’re not right together?

By the way we kissed, I’m thinking everything might be a little messy in his mind as well. Why’d we cross that line? Was it a statement for us to make, to taste and test before we walk away? Were we proving something or making it worse?

It wasn’t just a kiss to me. I felt that embrace in my toes.

I’ve never been kissed like that—kissed with so much emotion that reached inside me and cradled some deep hidden part of me.

His touch sets my body on fire and my heart beating like a drum.

He consumes with a look, and then I’m supposed to walk away like my soul wasn’t just devoured.

Kissing Jackson St. James is everything I ever dreamed a kiss would be. But we’re not supposed to be real. I’m a friend with benefits, at best. That’s the zone I feel most comfortable residing in when it comes to him and whatever this is between us.

But there’s one thing I can’t deny.

That kiss just changed everything.