First Choice (Sam Wilkinson/Nash Grier)

Chapter 62

Sam's POV

"Yesterday shouldn't have happened." She says.

The room was spinning as I struggled for air, the wind knocked out of me. I didn't want to believe that she regretted everything that happened yesterday. I didn't want to consider how fast she'd casted me away once Nash got upset. I was supposed to come first, not that blue eyed fucker.

I hated Nash, I hated him so bad. I hated him for making my Jasmine cry, and I wanted to kiss away her tears even though I know she'll only resent me for complicating things with her and Nash even further.

The words she whispered to herself as I held her in my arms and rocked her body back and forth stung like cuts from a knife. She hadn't stopped crying since there conversation on the phone, and that was over an hour ago. I'd since carried her her down the stairs and held her on the couch as she cried. I don't think he really broke up with her, that she was just being a little dramatic because she'd never went through this before. He'd be an idiot to actually let her go the way I was secretly hoping he would.

I was selfish, but I'd never claimed that I wasn't. I selfishly wanted Jasmine all to myself, and though she thought I belonged to that bitch Sarah, I was all hers. She had all of me as she cried over some other prick who got pissed just because she didn't spend yesterday thinking of him. He was even more selfish than I was, but she just hadn't realized it yet.

I wanted to tell her I loved her, and maybe that would somehow ease her heart ache, but if I really love her, I couldn't be selfish this time. I loved her enough to tell her the truth.

"He didn't break up with you Jasmine." I say quietly as she takes her head out of its spot nuzzled against my neck to get a better look at my face.

"W-what?" She asks brokenly, her voice hoarse from crying over him. Her eyes searched my face desperately as I gave her that little scrap of hope, even though it was killing me inside to do so.

"Jasmine, he didn't break up with you. He only said that because he was upset and he just wanted you to hurt as much as he is. He'd be an idiot to break up with you, and I promise you that he didn't. He just needs time to think, and while he's thinking, he'll only start to miss you more and more. Trust me, I'm a guy and plus, I would never lie to you." I tell her, even though I have lied to her with every word I've ever breathed about Sarah and I's relationship.

"Are you sure?" She whines, her voice still half way between crying and whispering as she sits up, her legs folded under her. I pull her onto my lap and hug her to me.

"He said that we shouldn't do this anymore." She breaks off at the end and begins crying again.

In that moment I realize how deeply I've truly fallen for this girl. I'm in love with this girl who cries too easily, I'm in love with this moody girl who loves me one day and hates me the next, I'm in love with this girl that I used to see almost every day and now this is the longest I've spent with her in over a month. I let my love for her overtake my jealousy and selfishness, saying the words that I know will take away her pain and only push her out of my arms and into his. It's hard to think straight as I assure her, "When he comes back, I promise you that you guys will be okay. It's just complicated right now because you guys can't talk in person, but once he sees your face, he'll be reminded why he wanted this in the first place and you guys will be just like before."

She nods, believing me, and wipes her eyes. The makeup she wore yesterday and didn't take off smears down her face. She laughs softly, me chuckling as I stand with her hands gathered in mine, pulling her up to stand with me.

"Why don't you go clean yourself up then, and I'll wait in your room." I tell her.

She seems a little embarrassed, "I washed my face this morning but it didn't come off. I'm just going to take a shower and then I'll be right back."

I want to ask her about her Mom's absence because the house is still empty besides us, but she's still hung over and her morning has already been ruined enough without worry about her Mom clouding it.

I go up after her and when she turns to go to the bathroom, I head to her bedroom. I occupy myself by lounging on her bed and watching TV while I check my phone. I've got a text from Gilinsky telling me to be careful with Jasmine and that he'll beat the shit out of me if I'm anything less than a gentleman to her for the rest of the night. I've also got one from Johnson, him making sure he didn't stay home only for me to stand Jasmine up. I am both hurt and disappointed that my friends think I would treat Jasmine so lowly, but it is expected after the way I've been towards her the last few weeks. I'd avoided her at all costs, hoping that it would make me surprising her at the dance more impactful.

I text them both back to go fuck themselves, Gilinsky replying that he doesn't need to because Elizabeth does that for him. I cringe at the mental image and focus my attention on the television show. Some weird white kid is pouring blood into a bathtub before this huge black chick walks in, asking about her mother. It takes me a minute to realize that it's "American Horror Story" and I wonder why Jasmine watches this sick shit, though I must admit in the last five minutes of watching it, I am quiet intrigued.

I'm interrupted by my sick show watching when Jasmine walks into the room with a little green towel wrapped tightly around her little fuckable body. Her long hair is up in a sloppy bun that hangs off her head, long curls she's missed hanging out everywhere. She obviously washed her hair, droplets of water running down the valley of her back and disappearing under the towel that's clinging to her.

She stares at me, "C-can you just go in the hall real quick so I can change."

I blink rapidly as I take in the bright blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck to her chest, though I can only see the top of the valley of her breasts. This shy, self-conscious Jasmine is a rather large contrast to the drunk Jasmine that was all giggles as she undressed herself down to her bra and panties and waited for me to turn around and see her. I chuckle and try to find the Jasmine that just couldn't stop herself from touching me.

"Yeah, just call me when you're done." I grin at her as I leave her room and shut the door behind me.

Before long, I hear her small voice calling me back to her. I open the door slowly just in case I heard wrong and when I walk in she's standing at the foot of the bed, oversized maroon joggers on her legs and she's still wearing that shirt of mine that she's kept. She's pulling a brush through her long, curly, dark brown hair and turns to me as I walk in. A bright smile covers her face, I honestly thought I wouldn't see one of her smiles for the rest of the day.

"So..." I say, dragging out the O.

"What are you going to do for your birthday?" I ask. She looks at me thoughtfully, her eyebrows wrinkling.

"I don't really have any plans. Do you think we could just hang out like we always do on my birthday?"

"Yeah, that sounds good to me." I grin, laying down on her bed, motioning for her to come and lay beside me. She crawls up to me from the foot of the bed and lays on her side right next to me, resting her head on my chest. I rub my hand up and down her back.

I'm both happy and relieved that she wants to spend that whole day, her whole birthday, with me, except that I'll really just be distracting her and keeping her away from her house while everyone sets up for her surprise party.

I just pray that her anxiety doesn't get the best of her that day and that she doesn't end up hating me. I just want her to have fun and be happy, not resent me for forcing her into something that she might not want to do.