"In California with my toes in the sand," he hummed, his body slowly swaying. I emerged from the corner I was hiding behind and smiled.
"Use the sleeves of my sweater," I sung. He turned around, a smirk playing on his lips. He approached me, intertw...
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It had been a full week since I had ki- connected my lips with Jacksons' and it had conveniently been all I could think about. Jackson and I hadn't talked much since we were having our first football game and some how he managed to get on the team in the mere two weeks he'd been here.
I found myself mourning Jacksons' visit before he even left. Despite him not leaving for another two weeks, I needed to find a way to cope with the distance between the both of us.
In the few moments Jackson and I would talk, it tended to be flirtatious. Of course it was, after all, I was talking to the infamous California boy. He insisted that I come to the game and be his personal cheerleader because all the other ones are annoying and want to get in my pants'. It was a stupid comment that probably isn't true but I couldn't control my racing heart when he said it.
Everything about Jackson seemed like a summer fling down to his looks. And him only being here for a month added to my theory. Technically, it still was summer but it wasn't summer break. Part of me wanted to believe otherwise and hold onto him for as long as possible but the other part knew all too well that he'd be packing his bags.
In a way, I was glad that he didn't really ask me out. There were the occasional kisses on the cheek and the shared gazes, but it wasn't official. As long as it stayed not official, I would be okay – I think. I can't tell for sure since I didn't really know what being official could feel like.
I continuously repeated the night we shared in my head. He told me that I made him feel something, and I didn't have the guts to tell him that he made me feel something as well.
I couldn't help wondering. Wondering if this what loved felt like, wondering if this is could be some type of addictive drug that someone slipped into my drink. In my seventeen years of living, I've never felt this way or had anyone made me feel this way.
I furrowed my face into my pillow and let out a groan. How can I love Jackson for making me feel like this but hate him at the same time?
Hormones. I blame it on the hormones.
"Get up, get up, get up!" Faith jumped onto my bed making me shake under the force. She nudged me to do something other than drown into the depths of my mind. "You can't be thinking about him all the time," my best friend rolled her eyes.
I sighed, getting up. "I just don't get it Faith. Of all people I could lo- find a liking to, why the guy that lives like a gazillion miles away?"
"Well," she sat up next to me. Her usual cheerful demeanor had slowly morphed into serious Faith. I watched her eyes darken to become the hidden abyss of wild jungles. "I don't know if Jack is going back to California. He loves the place with his whole heart, but," her voice became hushed as if she was talking to herself now. "The last memory of him there was the divorce."
I sat in silence. I hadn't even considered that before. If he were to go back to California, all he'd remember was the ghost of what his family was last. He'd have to be with the man that raised him before betraying him and his mother.
