AllFreeNovel
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Jackson is singing.
Like belting at the top of his lungs in that deep, husky voice, swaying around the kitchen brandishing a spatula singing.
I think I'm going to die.
Packing was abandoned long ago in favor of watching him dance around, so fucking cute.
And hot. Very hot.
I know I’m checking him out, he knows I’m checking him out, and yet still, when he suddenly looks up from the stove, I drop my gaze. Grabbing the first piece of clothing I can find, I pretend to inspect it, ignoring the low chuckle from the kitchen.
“Luna?”
I aim for nonchalance as I glance up.
Jackson smirks, leaning against the counter with his arms folded. “You hungry?”
Yup.
Very.
I shrug as I clamber to my feet. “I could eat.”
Joining him in the kitchen, I fish out cutlery while he dishes up a portion each of something delicious-smelling—kare raisu, he tells me it’s called—and carries our bowls to the living room. Halfway through cracking open a couple drinks for us, nose crinkled in disgust as I handle the dreaded grapefruit Crush, my phone chimes from the sofa where Jackson chucked it earlier.
“Can you check that?” It's probably just my mom checking my flight details for the millionth time.
Except the moment I turn around, I know it's not.
Jaw rigid, Jackson grips my phone way too tightly.
I take a cautious step toward him. “What?”
Brown eyes soften when they meet mine. Without a word, he sets my phone on the table, gesturing to it stiffly. Bracing myself for an unsolicited dick pic, I squint at the screen.
The text I find is arguably worse than a random penis.
Owen: hey sugarplum, see you tomorrow night? Parents are out of town. Need something to be thankful for again ;)
Fuck.
When I automatically go for my ring and come up empty—the little bastard glints at me teasingly from Jackson’s pinky—I cross my arms over my chest awkwardly. “I wouldn’t have replied,” is all I can think to offer.
“I know,” is his soft, genuine reply that confuses me because he doesn't exactly look thrilled. I sure as hell wouldn't be.
“You're not pissed?”
“Not at you.” Sitting down, Jackson digs into his food with a shrug. When I make no effort to join him, a crease forms between his brows. “Should I be?”
No.
It would be so easy to just say no.
I never did like taking the easy way.
“If I thought you were going home to fuck other girls, I'd probably be a little pissed.”
In a split second, something shifts in Jackson. Not in his demeanor; he remains as calm as ever as he sets down his food and leans back, smoothing his hands down his thighs before resting his arms on the back of the sofa. Such a casual stance yet every muscle is tight, every vein pronounced.
