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LUNA
I'm in a daze as I walk to class.
It’s been twenty-four hours and I still feel like I’m floating.
Jackson’s face, eyes dark and expression feral, consistently flashes through my mind, and it keeps making me smile. I look like a fucking freak gliding around campus with a big, dopey grin on my face.
I don’t recognize myself. I’m not a girl who glides around post hook-up, giddy over a guy. And I’m not a clingy girl either but yesterday? The girls practically had to peel me off Jackson, only the allure of so much gossip—I’ve never been so proud as I was when I found out Amelia racked up a fucking novel’s worth of drama in one itty bitty night—convincing me to part ways. I probably would’ve been happy curled up in his lap all day and that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
As much as I want to blame it on being weakened by the multiple orgasms, I can't. I'd be lying.
I like Oscar Jackson and it’s fucking terrifying.
Completely unexplored territory.
Everything about him, all the reasons I like him, are completely fucking new to me.
When I’m talking, he looks at me like he’s actually listening. Like he’s hanging on the edge of every word. Even when I’m silent, which makes zero fucking sense, I know, but it’s true.
He doesn’t make me feel so…much. I spend my entire day, my entire fucking life, searching for tiny snippets of calm just so I can catch my breath and boom, he appears, and it’s all goes silent.
It doesn’t make sense. I sure as hell don’t like it, the concept of a man magically being the solution to my problems.
But that’s just how it is.
That’s just how I feel.
As I breeze into class, I try not to think about it for just a couple of hours.
Settling in my usual seat, I occupy my mind with firing up my laptop and doodling on my hand but that doesn't work for long. No matter how hard I try, I keep seeing him in my mind, keep feeling his fingers ghosting my skin. It gets to the point where I have to physically shake the thought of him off to clear my head.
I silently rejoice at the arrival of Pen but even that potential distraction doesn’t last long. One look at me and she narrows her eyes. “You got laid.”
My new friend is a sex psychic. Good to know.
“I did not.” It’s only half a lie. Technically, there was no laying involved. Just some good old fashioned… groping?
“Liar.” Blue-green eyes pointedly flick to the telltale bruises on the base of my neck that apparently, my high-collared shirt does nothing to hide. “It was that guy, wasn’t it?”
“What guy?”
My attempt at cluelessness is a monumental failure at which Pen scoffs. “The baseball player with all the hair.”
“Jackson,” I correct her, and even though I drop my head to hide the involuntary smile his name evokes, Pen catches it. She bats her lashes as she coos his name dramatically. I have to clamp my hand over her mouth to get her to stop.
“So?” She slaps me away, brows wiggling. “I take it he was good.”
I take only the briefest of pauses before sighing. “Understatement.”
“But you didn't have sex?”
“Nope.” I kiss my teeth, still a little disgruntled about that part. “He wants to take me on adatefirst.”
“Aw. A gentleman. Rare find,” Pen muses, chewing on the back of her pen thoughtfully. Her gaze flits to the front of the room when Professor Jacobs noisily enters the room, and she pouts at the sight of her dad. “Damn it. I wanted details.” Turning back to me, she pokes my arm. “I have a class after this but are you free for a late lunch?”
I nod my somewhat reluctant agreement just as the professor starts talking and for the next hour, I just about manage to keep my mind out of the gutter and on world politics.
Barely.
