Falling For Jackson Again ✓

28| KISSING IS THE NEW SPARK.

MIA

I'm definitely sure my cheeks are red. Or maybe something is wrong with my face because the look on his face was filled with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I—”

I couldn't finish. He dropped the photo book, raised his hand, and placed it on my cheek, caressing it softly. My mind went blank. “You look a little flushed,” he said.

I wanted to tell him that I was fine, that the reason I was like this was because of him. And who could blame me? He was so close to me that just a small push would make my dream come true. But I couldn’t. Not like this.

The situation went extreme when I noticed his hand, which was placed on my cheek, began to move lower and stopped at my neck.

Okay, time to run.

I rose from the bed like I had done before, startling him. “It's…getting late,” I blurted out, searching for my shoes. The dog stared at me curiously from the ground but later returned to its original position. As I tried to avoid Jackson's curious look, I noticed a couple of boxes.

They were placed beside the bed, with some others kept separately. “You haven’t unpacked yet?”

I didn't get a chance to help as I felt two hands on my shoulders, spinning me to face him, leaving me shocked for a moment.

“I'll do them later. Just been busy.” His eyes didn’t match his lips; they didn’t flow together, and I almost saw a sign of fear.

I shrugged. “Okay, but what kept you so busy that you haven't unpacked?” I released a brief laugh, heading towards the door as I felt his presence behind me.

He said something, but it came as a low whisper. I turned to him. “Sorry, I can't hear—” My words caught in my throat as I came face to face with his chest, my face smashing into it.

It didn’t seem like a problem, but hell, it was! Because as I backed up a little, I was face to face with his bare chest.

He just had to wear a tank top.

My feet moved back slowly, trying to avoid another awkward stare, but I was pulled back. I turned my gaze to him, realizing that his hand was on my waist. He wanted me closer.

I thought maybe it was just the clouds in my mind, but no, he truly wanted me closer. His eyes burned with something familiar, reminiscent of those times in romance books where the male lead gazes at his beloved like she’s his entire world, or in teen movies when the jock and the cute nerdy girl share an awkward moment before he uses it as an excuse to kiss her.

Could this be it? Was I the nerdy girl, and he the jock? It seemed possible, but I had to be sure. I kept staring at him, which wasn’t hard since he had the darkest brown eyes I had ever seen. Maybe when he sleeps, I could count his lashes.

"That's creepy," my conscience chided, but I couldn’t care less. I was a goner whenever it came to him.

My heart leaped with joy, thinking of all the possibilities of my story being like one from the movies, but a sudden thought destroyed it in a second. What if this isn’t what I want? What if my feelings for him died the day he left without telling me, unknowingly leaving a void in my heart, trapping me into thinking that what I felt for him was love?

Love. Could that be what I'm feeling right now? Even if it is, the most important piece of the puzzle is standing in front of me, doing nothing, just looking—or maybe waiting.

But for what? Me? Does he expect me to pull back or something? His eyes looked lost, confused, like he didn’t mean to hold my waist so tightly, as though he wanted us to stay like this forever.