Pleasure

Chapter Twelve

I throw his wet clothes in the dryer and give him a towel for his hair. He wraps the towel around his head and then tells me to look away. I give him a confused look, but turn around and face the wall. He shuffles behind me before telling me to turn back around. I shift my body and look at Jacob. His towel hangs off his waist while his jeans now sit in a ruffled pile on the ground. I scan over his body, careful not to miss any inch. He's so perfect, so what does he want with me?

"Lay down." He demands, softly. I do as I'm told and crawl under my blankets. He stalks over and crawls in next to me. I roll on my side and look up at him. He stays still, but sighs and raises an eyebrow. For some reason that makes me smile.

"What do you want to know?" He asks, lacing his fingers together and putting them on top of his chest. 

"Umm..." That's a good question. I'm not quite sure where to begin. "Where were you born?" I start with something simple. I figure I'll work it up from there.

"Florida." He answers, rolling over on his side and facing me. "I moved shortly after, though, my parents wanted to get out of there." 

"Why, did they hate it?"

"No," he smiles, "My mom always dreamed about Georgia. My dad was just willing to follow her anywhere." I admire his admiration. His eyes look so amazing, they're filled with such happiness. I scan his face and his demeanor is soft. He isn't hiding.

"What else ya got?" He ponders, smiling at my lips.

"Hm," I move my lips to the side and think some more. "Why does everyone at school think you're scary?"

He scrunches his eyebrows and looks past me. He inhales deeply, putting his hand into a fist and leaning on it. He doesn't look proud when he mumbles, "Because I went to jail, maybe."

I hesitate, not wanting to continue the conversation. I'm scared he'll flip out and walk away again. "Why?"

"I just got into a fight." That's it? A fight? He reads my facial expression, so he continues to speak. "I did this thing ... to this guy because he did some .. things to my sister."

This catches me off guard. "You have a sister?" 

"Had." My heart drops as I realize what he means. I want to stop the conversation, change topics, but he continues to speak. "After the guy did what he did, she kind of just ... changed. She went through so much trying to get justice for herself. There were so many questions and she couldn't cope with it. She had to relive the story over and over and over again. She took her own life shortly after. No one was really there for her, not even me. She just ... gave up." There's tears in his eyes but none of them fall down his face. He sniffles and rolls back on his back. 

"I was so angry I watched that guy walk away with no consequences. I couldn't stand it. Nobody would listen to her, so I did what I wanted to. I waited for him to leave his job, then I followed him and beat him. I remember hitting and hitting and hitting and I never wanted to stop. Every time I hit him, I felt like it wasn't hard enough, so I'd hit harder and harder. I only remember blood and the way his face looked from the back of the cop car. I couldn't tell his eye from his nose. He was sent to the hospital with severe conditions. They sentenced me to four months in jail, then I was let out on parole. I didn't care about any of that, though. If I had the chance, I'd do it again. I'll always want to do it again. People like him shouldn't be able to live their lives freely without consequences."

"What was her name?" He looks at me confused. "Your sister, what was her name?"

He smiles and answers, "Paisley."

I press my lips together and turn them upwards. "That's a beautiful name."  He nods, but says nothing. "What about your mom and dad?"

"Well my mom died in a car crash over ten years ago, and my dad died around two years ago, so it's just me now." He doesn't sound phased by this, which is surprising and hurtful at the same time.