Page 18

Chloe

A s we reach the top of the hill, the view opens up before us. The cliffs extend endlessly, the sun breaking through the clouds and reflecting off the ocean. Jackson’s hand is steady and warm in mine, our fingers laced together naturally, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

"Wow," I breathe, taking in the view. "It’s such a pretty day.”

Jackson grins. "Worth the hike right?"

“Maybe,” I admit, hoping he quickly forgets how much I complained on the way up here.

My heart flutters as he leads me toward the cliff edge. I can't believe this is really happening - that Jackson and I are on an actual date.

"Close your eyes," Jackson says.

I raise an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Trust me." He squeezes my hand gently.

With a dramatic sigh, I comply. Jackson guides me forward a few more steps before coming to a stop.

“Are you going to push me off the cliff?” I crack open an eye.

“If you don’t keep your eyes closed, maybe.”

I hear his backpack zipper open and some rustling.

“Jackson…”

“Two more seconds.”

I fold my arms and wait, resisting the urge to open my eyes.

"Okay, open them."

I blink my eyes open and gasp. Spread out before me is a picnic blanket and a few Tupperware tubs scattered across the blue pattern. There’s plastic tumblers and what looks like non-alcoholic bubbly to one side too.

"Jackson, this is..." I trail off, willing my eyes not to glisten. It’s just a picnic.

But it’s so thoughtful. So sweet. Not something you’d expect someone like Jackson with his tattoos and worn t-shirts to do.

At least, not something anyone else would expect. I know him better than that and I’m starting to get the feeling he’d do anything for me.

He rubs the back of his neck and looks to the ground. "I know it’s not much. I don’t own a wicker basket or whatever but—”

I shake my head emphatically. "It's perfect."

We settle onto the blanket and Jackson begins unpacking popping open the tubs. I grin as I spot peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and great big wedges of honeydew melon alongside donuts from the bakery in town.

"How did you remember all this?" I ask, marveling at the spread.

Jackson shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "I pay attention."

A warm glow spreads through my chest. It's such a simple statement, but it means everything. Jackson notices the little things, the details that make me who I am. He sees me—really sees me—in a way no one else ever has.

As he pours the drinks, I can't stop smiling. For the first time in months, I feel light. Free. Like anything is possible, as long as Jackson is by my side.

I can't help but laugh as Jackson meticulously arranges the food on paper plates, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Who knew the big bad mechanic had such a knack for picnics?" I tease, nudging his shoulder. "I didn’t even know you owned a picnic blanket.”

“Well, it’s Dad’s for one, and it’s just a couple of sandwiches.”

“You’re definitely ruining your reputation.”

“I have a reputation?”

“Are you kidding? All the girls at school were so jealous you were best friends with my brother. They thought you were such a bad boy.”

“And what do you think?”

I blush, recalling the time before Brendan when I’d watched him playing football in the garden from my bedroom window, willing him to rip off his t-shirt.

“I was too busy studying to think about boys,” I say primly.

He fixes me with a knowing look. “Yeah, I believe you.”

As Jackson hands me a drink, I can't help but compare this to my dates with Brendan. It was fun at first, being his girlfriend. Like a novelty. But after the first few months, it grew more difficult. Was I wearing the right thing? Would I be the perfect girlfriend for him?

I can’t believe I wasted so much time with that idiot.

But at least I’m here. With Jackson. Making up for so much lost time.

"Hey, Chlo," Jackson says, waving a hand in front of my face. "You okay? You zoned out for a second there."

I smile, feeling a rush of gratitude. "Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking about how nice this is. How different..."

I trail off, not wanting to bring up Brendan, but Jackson seems to understand. He reaches out, gently squeezing my hand.

"I'm glad you're here," he says softly. "With me."

I pluck a strand of grass from the ground. “I guess my only regret is I didn’t figure this out sooner.”

Jackson nods. “I get it but I guess I kind of believe things are meant to happen for a reason.”

“Like fate?”

“I suppose. I just think maybe we weren’t ready for each other.”

“You were a bit of an idiot when you were younger,” I concede with laugh. "Remember that time you and Ethan tried to build a treehouse in our backyard? God, that was a disaster."

Jackson groans. "How was I supposed to know your dad's power tools were off-limits?"

"I mean maybe because they're power tools?" I bite into a sandwich.

"Hey, I didn’t chop any limbs off. That’s the main thing."

“But you did cut through my Mom’s fairy lights.”

Jackson takes a sip of his drink and laughs. “I’m pretty sure she still hasn’t forgiven me for that.”

“Oh yeah, she’s still mad about that for sure. Every summer, she tells my dad not to cut through the new ones just like Jackson did when he trims the hedges.”

Jackson's expression softens. "Your mom has always been good to me.”

I nod. “She loves you really.”

“Does that mean she won’t mind me dating her daughter?”

Dating. I can’t help but love that we’re that official. “I think she’ll be thrilled actually.”

He leans in toward me, his face mere inches away. I can smell his aftershave and my whole body tingles in anticipation.

“I’m pretty thrilled myself,” he murmurs.

My heart skips a beat and I move closer but a distant rumble catches my attention. I look up, noticing for the first time the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

"Uh, Jackson?" I gesture toward the sky. "I think we might be in for some rain."

He sits up, scanning the sky with a furrowed brow. "Crap. I checked the weather and it was meant to be fine.”

“The curse of living by the sea.”

“Don't worry, we've got time.”

The first fat raindrop splashes on my nose, making me yelp.

“Or not,” he says, standing and grabbing my hand. "We should move."

I scramble to my feet, but Jackson’s already packing up, shoving food into the basket and rolling up the blanket with quick, practiced motions. I stand frozen for a moment, watching him work, until he tugs my hand.

“Don’t just stand there. Come on," he says, urging me down the hill.

By the time we reach the bottom and gotten closer to town, the rain turns torrential. We sprint across the grass, my feet slipping a little on the wet ground. Jackson's grip on my hand is firm, steadying me as we run.

"In here," Jackson points to a small wooden gazebo the younger kids in town often hang out in. We dash inside just as the rain really starts hammering down.

Breathing hard, I glance at Jackson, his soaked t-shirt clinging to his chest and shoulders. My fingers twitch with the urge to touch him, but I settle for brushing a wet strand of hair from my face.

Jackson grimaces. "So much for our perfect picnic date."

"Are you kidding? This was way more memorable."

I wrap my arms about myself when a shiver runs through me.

"You're cold," he says, stepping closer. He runs his hands up and down my arms, creating friction. "Better?"

I nod, unable to respond as I’m too aware of how close we are.

Jackson's gaze meets mine, and the air between us seems to crackle with electricity that has nothing to do with the storm. His hands slow their movement but don't leave my arms.

"Chloe," he says softly, his gaze dropping to my lips.

"Yeah?" I whisper back.

Instead of answering, Jackson leans in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens.

I press my hands to his chest, mindful of the strength and firmness of his body.

The kiss grows heated and he presses it deeper, tasting me.

My breaths grow ragged and my body pangs with need.

I need more kisses. More Jackson.

He holds me close, moving against me and making me gasp. Slowly, he breaks the kiss, a smile playing on his lips.

"I feel like we’re getting good at this.”

His lips quirk. “Oh for sure.”

Rain drums against the roof of the gazebo and I take a shaky breath. He draws me into his side, wrapping me in a solid embrace that keeps me from shivering in my damp clothes.

He points toward the sky. “Looks like the rain is easing. Maybe we can finish our picnic.”

I only ate half a sandwich and some melon but I don’t feel remotely hungry anymore, not even for the best donuts in town. I feel like I could spend all day being kissed by Jackson and never need anything else.

“Maybe we can go back to mine,” I suggest. “Mom and Dad aren’t home.”

“That might not be a good idea.”

I scowl. “Why not?”

He gives a lopsided smile and twists to face me fully. “This is new and you’re—” He sighs. “It’s really hard to control myself around you. You’re insanely beautiful, Chlo, and I want things that maybe should wait…Christ, this isn’t easy to say.”

“Oh.”

I hadn’t thought about sex. Well, I had. But for most of my life, it had just seemed like something I’d worry about in the future.

But with Jackson in front of me, looking insanely sexy with his wet hair and clothing all tight against his body, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to think of anything else now. Especially after he’s admitted to wanting sex with me.

“It’s early days, Chlo.” He wraps his arms fully around me. “There’s no need to rush into anything.”

He’s right of course. We’ve only just started dating properly and I’m hardly going to have sex after a few kisses.

“Thank you for being honest.” I say, ignoring the pang of disappointment that is too dumb to mention. I always knew I’d never have sex with just anyone. I guess I must have known Brendan wasn’t really the guy for me or I wouldn’t have put it off for so long.

I can’t leap from one relationship straight into a sexual one with Jackson. That would be insane.

He places a tender kiss on my forehead, his lips warm against my skin. “I want us to take our time, make sure this is right for both of us.”

“You’re right.”

The trouble is, now all I’m going to be thinking about is what sex with Jackson would be like. If his kisses are any indication, it’d be incredible.

I take a shaky breath, trying to focus on my soaked, uncomfortable clothes instead of the way he makes me feel.

His honesty is refreshing, and I know he’s right about taking it slow.

Still, my body isn’t quite on the same page.

One date with Jackson Whitaker, and I’m already losing my head. What has he done to me?