Tattered ‎‧₊˚✧[Jameson Hawthorne]✧˚₊‧

Chapter 9

(Gabriella's POV)

I stumbled along the halls, Jameson by my side making sure I don't accidentally get impaled with a sharp object.

Hehe. Impaled. I immediately thought of Olaf.

I think the last straw for Jamie was when I rammed into him, making us both slam into a wall.

"Alright, that's it," Jameson said, his voice strained. I think I might have hurt him a little. I don't know what the problem is. He's always drunk, what's the problem with me escaping reality for once?

As I was mulling over why he was irritated, Jameson picked me up bridal style. I shrieked, but quickly tried to smother it.

Jameson carried me to my room as I giggled softly to myself, wringing my red dress as if the world were the funniest place to be.

"You okay?" Jameson asked with a grin, his tone light, though there was a warmth in his voice that softened the teasing.

I looked up, my wide, glassy eyes locking onto him as if he were the answer to some unsolvable riddle. "Jameson, did you know," I began, taking in his face as if it were the most beautiful art piece anyone has ever created, "that you have the nicest face? Like, really. It's so... symmetrical."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking towards my room. "Symmetrical, huh? That's high praise. I'll take it."

I waved a hand dismissively, thinking about how caring he was, bothering himself with taking me to my room. I would have thought Matt would do it, but... Jamie doing it did something to me. It did something to my mind, my stomach, my heart.

"Jameson, you always take care of me, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for you, but you really didn't have to," I told the boy carrying me.

"I take care of you because I want to," he said softly. "You know that, right?"

I nodded slowly, my gaze still fixed on him. "You're good, Jameson," I said quietly, my playful tone fading into something more serious. "Too good, maybe."

Something flickered over Jamie's face. "Gabs--"

"Shh," I murmured, placing a finger gently on his lips, a dreamy smile on my face. "I know you're going to say something sweet, but let me have this moment."

Jameson smiled against my finger and looked at me with an expression I can't quite place. I might be able to tell tomorrow, but I doubt I'll remember this at all. "Alright, I'll let you have your moment," he said to me quietly.

I leaned my head onto his chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.. "Can I tell you a secret?" I whispered to him.

"Of course," Jamie said, smiling down at me. I felt his arm underneath my legs move, and I heard a door open.

Huh. I guess with our talking, I didn't realize we made it to my room. Jamie carried me inside, walking to my bed and placing me down, bringing the covers up to my shoulders.

"I think I love you," I admitted softly once he stopped moving and fussing around with my blanket. My voice was so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

"You think?" He teased gently, obviously trying to keep the moment light.

I laughed softly, being able to tell that my words have affected him. "Okay, I know. But don't hold it against me in the morning, alright?"

Jameson got into bed with me, hugging me and resting his chin atop my head. "I won't. But just so you know, I think I love you too."

I hummed contentedly in his arms, and Jameson lay there, holding me as the quiet of the night wrapped around them. It didn't matter if I wouldn't remember this clearly in the morning. What mattered was the way I somehow fit so perfectly in his arms, the way my heart swelled whenever he held me, laughed with me, smiled at me.