The Girl Unnoticed

29. New Feelings

Chapter Twenty Nine : New Feelings

It's 11:57 pm.

I can't sleep.
God.
What did I just do?

My fingers brushed over my lips, reminiscing the lingering feeling of Jackson's lips on mine.

I stared at the ceiling above me. I have just kissed Jackson McLean. Uhm, is that not absurd? Hello? It's JacksonfreakingMcLean.

We were pretty awkward and stuff, you know, after the kiss and we're kinda just like "well.." and "right.." before finally, Jackson decided I should probably head home and drove me back here.

I faced down on my pillow and groaned into it. What is wrong with me? I can't believe I've just lost my first kiss to the dangerous, bad and unpredictable boy who coincidentially was my first crush back in middle school.

Shit, I don't even know him that well. Apart from his popularity and good looks and mysteriousness, I don't even know what is his middle name, his favourite color (most probably black), his favourite ice-cream flavour, his pet peeves, his life philosphy, his family or his birthday. Like literally, nothing.

What if he has a weird sleeping habit? What if he secretly is a criminal? What if he is actually drunk during the kiss? What if I'm just one of his games?

Oh my God. I placed my hand over my forehead, trying to fend off all the bad thoughts creeping into my mind. Stop overthinking, Lei.

My sixteen-nearly seventeen-years of preserving the untouchability of my lips has been broken.

Is this happening? I thought to myself within my four pale lilac bedroom walls.

Maybe it is. You know, happening.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jackson's P.O.V

"I'm home," I called out when I reached home.

No reply.

I went to the living room and saw my mom sitting on the couch, watching TV. Her hand held a glass of wine and instantly, I know she's in one of her moods.

I sat down cautiously on the couch opposite her. She took notice of me finally.

"Glad you're back, Jack. Your father got back his old temper because of his business," Mom said in her familiar tired tone. The wrinkles around her eyes had became more visible. The worry had aged her more than she is.

"What happened?" I asked, keeping my hands on my knees intently.

She gave me a glance before looking back at her TV show about some Russian women talking about dresses.

"He got back from work early today," she started. "Said there was business he needed to attend to and needed some document from home. Then, he got a phone call and started raising his voice, talking like he used to."

I gave her a half nod to assure her I'm listening.

Mom continued," Lastly, broke the flower vase and started cursing words at the air or me, I've no idea. Kept repeating "these bloody fellows" and "never keep up to their expectations" or something. He was really stressed and his old temper is back for no good."

I stared at the carpet underneath my feet. Dad used to have this awful temper years ago. And when I meant awful, I mean like really bad. Dangerous, even.

He constantly breaks things in the house and sometimes even put Mom to the blame. I stood up for Mom several times but to no avail. I was being hated for it. I remembered the look he gave me like I was the son he wished he never had. I winced at the memory.