He said it as though I didn't know it myself. As though we were at a medical ward and he was a doctor handing me the terrible news. Jackson's eyes were sympathetic but after analyzing them for a few seconds, looking deep into the solid, black color, I just wanted to get out of there.
"I-I..." I stutter, unable to assemble a simple sentence.
"Don't pretend that whenever we touch, you don't feel sparks."
He edged his body closer to mine and placed a reassuring hand onto my shoulder. And what he had previousy said, I couldn't deny. It was strange for me. I don't know if it was strange for Jackson too. His touch caused thrills of energy to erupt underneath my skin. I wasn't blind to notice, also, that his eyes were softer. Instead of remaining that eerie tone, they had transformed back to its original state; warmer, brighter and hazel.
Despite feeling the urge to stay for a while, I couldn't. With an abrupt realization that he was still a stranger and he had no right to tell me who he thought I was, I left, and he didnt follow. I didn't hold any regrets and my heart wasn't flooded with rue.
I sighed, letting out some of the negative thoughts and worries which had rented their own apartments in the back of my head. It was time to stop acting so depressed. No one else could change me, only myself. To be honest, no one else would be willing to. So, I guess that left me surrounded with only clones of, well, me.
I checked my watch at 1:30pm. Considering the time, I'd probably be hiding in my usual seat behind that tall kid with the large, yet impressive afro. He disabled my clear sight of the teacher, along with the board, but to be frank with you, I couldn't care less. Religious Studies wasn't a very beloved subject of mine. If I had been in English or History, on the other hand, I would be sat in the teachers office with both of our parents, having to explain why their kid had come home with a horizontally cut afro.
But I wasn't in the classroom. I was inside the Drama studio. The walls had been painted a dark burgundy colour, the floor was charcoal and at the front of the classroom hung heavy, black curtains. All of my friends are here, I mocked as I roamed around the empty room.
Feeling rather curious, I fidgeted with the light settings so that the front bulbs were switched on, and directed at me. I felt like a real actress, ready to give an important monologue to a row of crimson chairs.
After just pretending how it'd feel like to be in the role of an actor, I realized I was alone, I didn't have any dialogue to act out so I sang. Breathing heaps of air in, expanding my rib cage, I then exhaled. I played my first word after repeating some breathing exercises.
When I had reached the age of four, my mother had taken me to singing classes, having being fed up with my constant screeching. It was a smart decision, she would say. After a few professional lessons when I was fourteen, my mother blessed me for having such an angelic voice. It was after then, that my mother would ask me to sing songs for her. This included various versions of Ave Maria. Of course, I couldn't really take my singing up a notch further and perform opera, but I'd sing soft verses, in rhythm of my own beat and timing. This was all my mother asked for when she had gotten ill. I remember laying beside her and singing gently into her ear. It was all she ever wanted. No gift cards, no flowers, no presents, just my voice.
The surface of the walls bounced the words to my song back and fourth and echoed my voice, adding quite a crispy flare to it. My singing was the only thing alive in the room. Or so I thought.
"You have a beautiful voice."
My eyes shot open to see if I was just imagining. Maybe I had fallen too deep in my own thoughts whilst singing that my mind had decided to play tricks on me? But no such thing. I was transfixed on the dark figure, his shadow approaching closer.
"How did you find me?" I quickly blurt out, stepping back, but he just continued on.
"Simple; I followed the voice." Jackson responded, his hand finding the arch of my back and pulling my body towards him so that we stood only inches apart.
That short distance was totally abolished when he embraced me, his arms holding a strong grip and his face resting on the surface of my shoulder.
I sighed heavily, trying to breathe with a normal speed. But I found that task to be near impossible because the closer we seemed to be, the faster my blood circulated through my vessels. And our bodies were crammed into each other, that even a piece of paper couldn't fit through us, so at that moment of time, I thought that I would faint. Although, it was as though Jackson wouldn't allow me to. He would be there to catch me if I did, holding me upright. I couldn't figure out why, but with everything I had, I felt safe.
"Jackson." I whisper, allowing my arms sudden permission to snake around his neck.
I had planned to tell him to stop doing this and that I had to go, but my inner wolf told me otherwise. She said that it felt too right to leave. I also remember her saying that we were meant to be, Jackson and I. Confused, I wanted to ask why that was, but he interrupted.
"Avery, you don't know what you're doing to me," his husky voice mumbled into my ear too close for me not to quiver.
I could feel his breath on my skin, I could feel it getting hotter until his lips found its aim: my jawline.
"Jackson, enough!" I spontaneously demand, whilst pushing him back to renounce our distance.
However, I wanted to take it back. Not because I didn't want him to stop (...well maybe? But can you blame this poor girl?) but ultimately because his face had gotten angry, and stiff. I figured that he was gritting his teeth due to the fact that I swiftly caught sight of the back of his chiseled jaw clenching.
Was he going to stay like a statue forever? I thought. The silence hung in the air like a damp towel, and because of this, I was willing to say something. I kept my mouth clamped, nevertheless.
"Are you that thick to not know?" He points out, quite rudely actually.
"I'm your mate, Avery, and you are mine." Jackson states, stomping out after reading my baffled expression.
Wait a second...
MATE???
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YOU ARE READING
The Revenge of the Geek Betrayal.
RomanceHe trailed his lips across the blunt outline of my collarbone, my warm cheek under the soft caress of his hand. "Avery," he whispers, his low, husky voice on my bear skin. Intimate fire flared beneath my very soul, This was it, I thought. I had fin...