Goin' to Jackson { Jackson Wang Series }

Chapter 3

The heavy bass thumped hard in Jen's chest. The lights flashed as a mass of people writhed on the dance floor. This isn't my scene at all, she thought ruefully. Jackson sat beside her wearing dark sunglasses even in the dimly lit club to avoid being recognized. Luckily for him, the swarm of humanity was having too much fun to take much notice of him. In the darkness, Jen was hardly able to make out the sharp planes of his face and his high cheekbones.

She had arrived the night before to a somewhat tepid reception. Jackson had sent a driver to pick her up at the airport and take her to the hotel. He had emerged from his room to give her a quick hug before sending her off to bed. It was late, she reasoned. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but she had hoped that their reunion would be a little more dramatic. Upon waking up in the morning, she had found that the band and the whole crew had gone to the concert venue to rehearse. So, she ate a quiet breakfast and read a book for several hours. Jackson texted her during his breaks but couldn't come back to the hotel for lunch or dinner. She had been provided great backstage access during the concert, but only got to see short flashes of Jackson as he rushed around backstage in a flurry of activity. She didn't want to say she was regretting coming out to meet him on tour, but she had hoped he would have a little more free time. It's only the first whole day, she chided herself. Give it time.

The rest of the table was drinking beer, but Jen was gripping tightly to a glass of pinot grigio. Jackson grinned at her and winked. Bambam was standing and re-enacting a scene from his favorite movie, Black Panther. This was supposed to be her welcome party, but she found herself feeling a bit lost in the crowded club. As she drank the last of her wine, she considered filling her glass again, but decided against it. Alcohol is no solution for the blues, she reminded herself. As her beloved Frida Kahlo had once said, "I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim."

She gave Jackson a pleading look and he leaned toward her and whispered, "Do you want to go get some air?"

"Yes!" she replied, a little too quickly. "I know you guys put this together for me, but it's not my kind of thing."

"Yeah, I get it," he said.

Jackson gave their apologies to the group and they stepped out into the cooler air outside. Immediately, upon emerging from the nightclub, they were approached by a group of women.

"Jackson! Oh, my God, will you take a picture with us?" one woman shrieked as she pulled her phone from her purse.

"Sure," he replied graciously.

The scantily clad women surrounded him, pushing Jen to the background. Two of them draped their arms around his neck. Jackson turned to give Jen an apologetic look. He allowed his arms to hover behind the women, being careful not to actually touch them. After taking the picture, one of the women hanging from his neck stole a kiss on the cheek before running off into the crowded street.

"I'm sorry about that," said Jackson sheepishly. "They think they own me sometimes. Most of what happens to me with fans in non-consensual," he bemoaned.

They passed a tree that had been unceremoniously forced into the ground beside the busy street to give an appearance of "green space." Jen grabbed a small stick that had fallen to the ground and pointed it at Jackson.

"En garde," she teased, as she assumed the fencing posture.

Jackson grabbed another stick and accepted her challenge.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he questioned. "I was on the national fencing team in Hong Kong."

"Show me what you got, big boy," countered Jen, taking a stab at his stomach.

Jackson easily blocked the move and began a series of countermoves, culminating in a successful poke to her unguarded midsection.

"Ouch," Jen yelled playfully.

Jackson's gazed clouded with concern. "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to actually poke you in the stomach. I just got a little over-zealous there." His hand reached to check her for any injury, but he quickly pulled it away again, as if touching her would give him an electrical shock. Jen lifted her shirt very slightly to reveal her tan midsection with no signs of redness.

"See? All good," she said. "You hardly even grazed me," she taunted. "It's just a flesh wound," she continued, holding her belly in the throws of mock pain.

Jackson laughed and dropped his weapon. "I missed you," he said, his face taking on a serious shadow.

"Really?" questioned Jen. "You could have fooled me. You haven't hardly said two words to me since I got here."

Jackson nodded. "I'm sorry about how busy I've been. I think I have Wednesday off. Maybe we can go out to dinner then. I probably should have warned you that I would be pretty tied up," he said apologetically.

"No, it's OK. I mean, I knew you were going to be super busy and it was my choice to come anyway," Jen said. "I guess I was a little confused by the fact that you gave me a hug when I got here, and you haven't touched me since. It all just feels a little sterile and cold," Jen explained, meeting his gaze for a brief moment.

Jackson looked at his feet. "I'm so sorry. I guess sometimes I forget that things are different in other parts of the world. The way I was raised is that you don't go around just touching people and invading their personal space without permission," he clarified.

"Yeah, I get that. I mean, I actually like my personal space, but with me being Mexican American, I find that my personal space is invaded pretty regularly by family and friends. I mean, I come from two cultures that have very little personal space. I'm 24

and my dad still hugs me from behind and pretends to eat the back of my head," she laughed.

"I guess, for me, it's normal to go without touching people, but, for you, it must have felt like something was wrong. Part of it is that we are never alone. In China, you know, you don't show affection publicly where everyone can see you. You save that kind of thing for when you are in your home."

"Yeah, I get it," Jen replied. "It just felt like something was off between us and it made me worry that, maybe, I shouldn't have come."

Jackson shook his head. "I feel so awful that I made you feel that way," he said. "I am so psyched to have you here. You have no idea," he assured her.

They walked on for several blocks in amicable silence. Jen felt a raindrop hit her shoulder, then another, and another, and soon the rain was falling steadily. Jackson looked around, hoping to find a place for them to escape the rain. It was late and the restaurants that lined the street were all closed. He removed his long overcoat and held it above Jen's head, shielding her from the offending droplets. He covered his own head as well, using the overcoat as their own little hiding place. Jen could feel his breath against her cheek.

"I'm going to kiss you on the count of three, OK?" he warned. "If you don't want it, just turn your face away, OK?" He searched her eyes and saw what he hoped was anticipation. "One...two..."

Jen kissed him firmly before he ever reached the count of three. She wrapped her arms around his neck under the overcoat. Jackson felt something beyond grudging consent. This was hunger. It was months of pent-up longing, breaking free all at once. He kissed her back, glad to have the privacy of the overcoat. He knew that passersby would guess what was going on under that coat, but he didn't care. His mouth moved over hers in unmistakable passion. When they finally pulled away, Jen stroked his hair and said, "Now, that's a real welcome home."