Bittersweet Moments

27 | Ganache

27 | Ganache

We didn't get ice cream, unfortunately, but we got home alright and picked up ganache on the way.

The house never looked as empty as I saw it. Jackson and I stopped at the foot of the steps and I cocked an eyebrow at him. I had messed up my hair lots of times in the car, and I also had taken the liberty to remove these death traps we called 'heels'. It made me wonder how those other girls could walk with needles on their feet.

"Are you sure you're okay slee – staying with me here?" he asked, looking at me. I must've looked like a disaster.

"Jackson, I already agreed with you," I insisted. I was so tired – almost insanity kind of tired. "Now stop being a baby and carry me."

He seemed taken aback by the request, "Wh – what?"

I stepped forwards towards him. In his eyes, I saw my own, cold and dead and heavy. "Carry me upstairs," I made sure to pronounce everything slowly.

"Y – you want me to . . . "

No, I wasn't expecting bridal style, swoop up to the rose petal bedroom and the satin sheets. I just wanted a ride up because my feet were worn out nubs and I was in no mood to argue with Jackson about it. I hated explaining so I just took the chance to come up behind him and try to climb his back.

"Wait, wait, wait! Ollie you're – " he cut himself off with a grunt when I was finally hitched on him. I locked my arms around his neck and my complaints began to be muffled when I buried my head on his shoulder.

Jackson was wheezing. But instead of dropping me, he just caved in and took both my legs to wrap around his waist. "You're so heavy," he grunted as he heaved me up to make sure I wouldn't slide off.

"Onward my lousy steed!" I grumbled. Eyelids getting heavy. Need to restore energy. God, why couldn't I be in my bedroom instead, cuddled up with the laptop?

"No, no," Jackson let out a big breath. We weren't even moving yet. "I can't carry you, Ollie. Get off my back." He dropped his hands, slumping. I answered with a groan and incoherent words.

"Bastard! I'm tired!" I whined. He crouched so I could get off. So much for a ride to the bedroom.

"It's just stairs, sweets. I'm going to collapse halfway up."

More grunting and groaning. In defiance, I went up a few steps, sat down, and laid my head on the higher step and cushioning it with my arms. Wow, it was so comfortable in here. No wonder John and Sherlock slept on a flight of stairs once. Jackson moved up above me and tapped my head with one foot.

"Sweets, it's just nearby. You're not going to walk a marathon. Get up, please," he urged on. I closed my eyes and yawned. No, not until he carried me.

I was almost into the abyss of slumber when I heard Jackson's footsteps fading. He was gone. Seriously? Was he going to leave me alone here? With his parents finding me the next morning? And he said he was the one who wanted me with him tonight.

Whimpering a bit, I fought with myself. My body was too worn out to climb up and follow him up there. But I also wanted to go to his bedroom and rest on the his soft bed. Maybe just a bit more effort, Ollie . . .

I tried to get up.

No, screw it. Let them find me here in the morning and let my future-self suffer in embarrassment.

But Jackson came back, five minutes later. Or more than that, probably. I didn't count. I heard a bit of squeaking when he came down. He had something with him.