Road Tripping

04

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"I DON'T WANT to go back, Jacks." I pout childishly and stare down at my bare feet with crossed arms. "Don't worry." Jackson reassures me, from the couch adjacent from the one I slept on. "'Hot Blondie' won't let Nate hurt you," of course a laughed at his joke, but I couldn't help but notice the pang of anxiety that washed over me at the mention of his name.

"Did I ever tell you," I start, getting up and boiling the kettle. "That you have amazing eyebrows?" Jacks laughs, before moving into the kitchen and standing opposite me. "It's so quiet," Jackson mentions, sparking an outburst from me.

"Ooh, ooh! Can I please play some of my music? Please Jacks?" I don't let him answer, for I have already began to search for a speaker. I plug my phone into the speaker near the tv, and shuffle my favourite playlist. 'Migraine' by Twenty One Pilots comes on first.

"I-I-I-I've got a migraine. And my pain will range from up, down and sideways." I sing, jumping nimbly yet ungracefully onto the kitchen table. I spin around, only breaking my string of raps when I feel the stable surface below disappear from underneath me, and I am falling backwards.

This is it. This is how I die. How uncool.

I let out an oomph when I hit the tiled ground. I immediately look up at Jackson, who is not bothering to stifle his laugh as he sips from the mug in his hand. "Why didn't you catch me? That wouldn't been a perfectly cliche and utterly adorable moment,"

Hastily, Jackson swallows another mouthful of my tea and moves towards me. "I didn't think that you'd be interested in sharing a cliche moment with me, cause you seemed pretty into Josh last night."

I frown and knit my eyebrows together. Once I shiver, I get up; the floor was cold. "I want a bed," I cry, before running down the hallway erratically. I hear Jacks yelling behind me, but I continue to open all of the doors.

Finally, I swing open a door at the end of the hall, revealing a King sized bed with white sheets. I squeal in excitement and run towards the bed, throwing my body in the air and expecting a soft and satisfying landing.

But rather then that, I'm seized by the waist and swung around to face a brooding pair of gloomy eyes. "Want!"
I scream, writhing under Jackson's firm grasp. Suddenly, I feel breath fan my neck. "How's that for a cliche moment?" My breath hitches, and for a second I am speechless.

But, per usual, a witty remark comes naturally. "Would be better if you let me on the bloody bed! Why won't you let me? Don't you want me to mess up the sheets?" I smirk.

"No," Jackson's face is still at my neck. "I just didn't want you to lay on my side," he giggles, before releasing me and jumping onto the bed.

"I hate you," I mutter, before running away, intent on an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Running quietly, I make my way into a linen cupboard. I scramble like some variety of monkey onto the top shelf, pushing myself back so I'm out of direct view.

Not long after, I hear the door open. I use every single ounce of the self-control I have to stop my immature snickers. When Jackson's beaming face appears abruptly next to mine, I flinch in fright; hitting my head on the top of the shelf.

"Ow," I mumble, rubbing my throbbing scalp. "how'd you know where I was?" Jacks laughs heartily, before concentrating on my face. "Because," he whispers, moving his face closer to mine, "This is always my hiding spot, and I figured, great minds think alike," he tapped his nose.