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I slipped out of his bedroom, swooping up the clothes that I’d worn to his house. Despite the conversation about me staying at his house more often, I still hadn’t brought any of my clothes over. It just didn’t feel right.
Because we’re not really together.
And I knew that. The fact that I had to keep reminding myself about it made my head spin. I was too emotional about us, and Maeve was right....maybe I was too attached to Jackson.
“Here, wear this.” Jackson’s voice caught me off guard as he handed me a T-shirt. “Your shirt got a stain on it…”
“Right,” I muttered, taking it from him and slipping the black Rolling Stones shirt over top of my bra. I pulled on my pants and then rolled up the rest of my clothes, setting them on the bed beside me as I took a seat, focused on Jackson. “So…what is it that we need to talk about?”
The look on his face was borderline troubling as he stood in front of me, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. I hated how attracted I was to him now—not that I hadn’t been before. It was just…more so, now.
“I had a meeting with the PR team,” Jackson began, tossing his towel into the opening of the bathroom. I heard it hit the tile floor with a soft thump but kept my attention on the bright green eyes focused on me.
“And?” I urged, growing impatient. “What happened?”
He let out a worrisome sigh. “We’re going on an end-of-summer tour.”
I hesitated, trying to decipher why this was some kind of big deal. “Does this have to do with the fact that I was being weird about you not calling me over the weekend? Because that totally doesn’t matter…I was just being weird,” I said quickly, trying to downplay it. “I know this isn’t a real relationship.”
And I keep feeling the need to remind everyone of that.
Jackson made a face that I couldn’t read for a moment, but then shook his head. “It’s got nothing to do with any of that, actually.”
“Oh…”
“It’s about the tour…”
I bit down on my bottom lip, trying desperately to understand what he was trying to get at—and why he was being so elusive about it. “Just say whatever it is.”
He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “They want you to go with us.”
I blinked a couple of times, processing what he said—and still not seeing the big deal. “When do you leave? How long is the tour?”
“Well, we leave soon. I think they’re considering as early as next week, which would be fine, but—”
“I’m not done with my summer classes,” I cut him off, my brows furrowed. “There’s no way they’ll be able to come up with a substitute at the last minute, and the kids will be so bummed. I’ve been working to put together their final program too.” My voice fell, and then I realized this was why he wasn’t looking forward to talking about it. “I can’t go.”
Jackson let out a sharp sigh. “You have to.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
Frustration began to build in my chest, and I struggled to maintain my composure after everything I had been through. “Why do I have to?” I stood to my feet. “It wasn’t written in the contract. Nothing was said. It makes no sense at all. I’ve done everything that I’m supposed to do!”
“Lena, calm down.” Jackson took a step toward me, stretching out his hands. “I’ll pay to help find a substitute, and then we can figure out a way for you to start the semester online or something.”
“Oh my god,” I said, exasperated. “You mean to tell me I have to miss out on my master’s program too? Why can’t I just stay here? Plenty of rock stars don’t take their significant others. Can’t I just fly out to see you or something?” My voice shook with anger and frustration.
“Lena, I tried.” His shoulders fell.
“How hard did you try?” I demanded, feeling my emotions slipping up on me. I knew it wasn’t a fair question. I knew it. But still, my relationship with Jackson was so difficult to understand. Sometimes I thought he actually cared, and other times I had to remind myself of why we were still talking and seeing each other.
It was nothing but business—and a little pleasure.
“I tried really hard.” Jackson’s voice caught me off guard after a moment had passed between us. “I swear. I didn’t want you to come.”
Ouch. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did.
