Chapter 23
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 f-uck, 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 f-ucking 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.