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It makes me feel a little less out of my depth.
24
LUNA
Eardrum-threateningly loud musicechoes off the walls of my apartment, my only company since Kate and Amelia left for Thanksgiving with their families.
I hum along to it, letting it calm me even though I feel the complete opposite; nothing elevates my stress levels quite like packing. I’m powering through, though, because packing means getting out of Sun Valley, and God knows I could use that. With everything happening lately, this city and this apartment have felt stifling.
I fixed the monstrous mess I made. Apologized to Amelia and meant it so very much.It’s not okay but I forgive you,she’d said and I’d taken it happily because God, it was more than I deserved.
But repaired friendships aside, I still need to get out of here. I’m actually looking forward to this weekend. Not because I love Thanksgiving or anything, Ma and I don’t even celebrate it. The extent of our grand plans usually includes a mountain of takeout eaten in our pajamas on the sofa, a cheesy romcom playing in the background as my mom grills me for the latest gossip. That’s what I’m excited for; some good ol’ normality.
Though, my excitement is slightly tainted as I wonder how the hell I'm going to avoid Eva and Bea for an entire weekend—call me a princess but I’ve been treated a little too well lately to revert back to dodging thinly veiled insults and silly, childish mean girl bureaucracy. And Owen is a whole other tangled web.
With the blaring music and my full focus on strategizing plans of evasion, I don’t hear my phone ringing. It’s only when the song changes do I hear it, along with knocking. Ignoring the latter—the tenants of this apartment don’t have the best track record with unexpected visitors—I answer my phone. “Hello?”
“Open your door.”
The smile on my face is damn near automatic.
I fly to the door at lightning speed. Within seconds of opening it, Jackson’s inside and all up in my business. “I’ve been knocking for ten minutes.”
“What’re you doing here?”
Large hands settle on my waist. “I'm not gonna see you for four days.”
“And a few extra hours was gonna kill you?”
“Maybe.”
“Drama queen.”
“Stop being a brat and kiss me.”
I roll my eyes but oblige because how can I not? Hands tug me flush against him before circling around, pawing my ass. Toying with the hem of the t-shirt riding up my thighs, Jackson pulls back just enough to glance down at my attire. “Is that mine?”
“Yup,” I reply, not the slightest bit ashamed.
A pleased noise rumbles in his throat as he tugs on the hem again. A palm slaps my bare skin as he gives me a final peck. “Put some pants on and let's go get some food.”
“I can't. I have to pack.”
Eyes dart in the direction my thumb jerks, dark brows shooting up when Jackson clocks my overwhelming suitcase. “You know you're only going for a weekend, right?”
“Shut up.”
His laughter creates a warm feeling in the pit of my belly that only spreads when he grips the back of my neck and pulls me in to kiss my forehead. “Go pack. I'll cook.”
“You cook?”
Modest as always, Jackson just shrugs and ambles into the kitchen, rooting through the cupboards and fridge like he owns the place.
Apparently, he cooks.
Damn it.
* * *
