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“Well, shit.AndhereIthought you had good taste.”
“Imet him, you know.”Myperfectly sensible mind—the mind of an adult woman—is overrun by the crazed ramblings of a rabid teenage vampire show fanatic.
“YoumetJonas?When?HereinL.A.?JonashatesL.A.”
“No.WhenIwas a teenager back home inRiverside.Atthe mall.Hewas there as part of a contest with our local radio station.Whydoes everything happen at the mall when you’re a teenager?”
“Ididn’t have a mall growing up.Everythinghappened in a barn, whereI’mfrom.”
“Huh.”Ifile that little morsel of information away for future consideration.IknowJackson’sfromCanada.ButInever thought about what his childhood was like.He’sbeen famous for so long,IguessIdidn’t think he had much of a childhood.
“Now, back to the mall.Whathappened when you metJonas?”
“Itwas the best day of my teenage life.Iwas completely convinced thatVampireClaudewas going to lay eyes on me and immediately fall in love with me.Hewas going to bring me toL.A., where we’d both be rich and famous or else make me into a vampire and we’d live forever together.Foreverin love.”Teenageme was a complete idiot.
“Youknow he’s not actually a vampire, right?”
“Thereis no reasoning with a teenage girl.Theheart wants what the heart wants.”
“Andyou wanted a toxic, pompous, vampire old enough to be your great-great-great-great—andIthink we need a few more greats in there—great grandfather?”
“LikeIsaid, the heart wants what the heart wants.Andtoxic was not a word in our vocabulary back then.Beingstolen away from my family and friends seemed totally romantic.Now, it’s givingStockholmvibes, for sure.”
“I’mnot going to lie to you.Thiscompletely changes howIsee you.Here,Ithought you had taste.Butyou were obsessed withJonas, when you could have been obsessed with me?”Jacksonshakes his head.
“Noteveryone is obsessed with you.Sorryto disappoint.”
“Shit, you said you don’t have my abs tattooed on your back, but please tell me you don’t haveJonas’ smug face on there?”
“No.Ican confirmIhave zero back tattoos.Butonly because my mom wouldn’t let me do that either.”Ipull my leg up from the black floor mat to hold it out in front of the dash.Runningmy fingers over the tattoo above my right ankle,Iturn back toJackson. “Youshould probably know about this, though.Ihave a tattoo of a bumblebee on my ankle.”
“Selena,Iclocked the bumblebee in the elevator.Ispent six hours staring at you.”
“Oh, right.”HowdidImiss that he spent six hours staring at me, whenIspent the whole six hours staring at him?Nomatter how many times he tells me that,Istill don’t quite believe it.
“Doyou have any tattoos thatIcan’t see with your clothes on?”
“Nope.”
“Whatabout piercings?”Jacksonglances over at me. “Otherthan the ones on your ears?”
Pressingmy hand to my ear to fiddle with my textured gold hoop,Ishake my head. “Nope, again.”
“Idon’t have any piercings, butI’vegot some tattoos.I’llshow you when we’re back at the house.”
Myeyes spread wide. “Oh.Youcan probably just tell me about them.Thatwould probably be good.”
“Youworried you won’t be able to resist me with my clothes off?”Thecocky smile he gives me makes me want to slap him.Orkiss him.No, no.Therewill be no slapping.Anddefinitely no kissing.
“Absolutelynot.Ijust… think that we should keep this as professional as we can.Tryto hold on to a bit of normal.”
Jackson’slips twitch. “Becausethis whole thing is completely normal.Selena, my life hasn’t been normal since the dayImet you.Butdon’t worry,Idon’t have any tattoos you can’t see in a bathing suit.Yet.”
“Oh, planning on a dick tattoo?”
“Nah,Iwas thinking of a treasure trail tattoo that says,You’rewelcome,”Jacksontells me with a grin.
“That’sliterally the most disgusting thingI’veever heard.”
