Jackson wasn't used to being rejected. As far as he was aware, he held the entire school in his hand - whether it be down to his money, his 'charm' or his strong good looks. He was popular, he drove a porsche and he even saw the way girls looked at Lydia, wishing that they were on the receiving end of one of his fierce kisses and not her. He watched as even a few boys turned their heads as he walked by. That suited him, because it made him feel strong and worth something. Jackson was the best in Beacon Hills and that was how he liked it. He was even predicted to be prom king, and that whole thing was based on votes, so clearly he must to have done something right. He'd never bothered himself with the idea that there was a minority of people who didn't agree with the general consensus. They were all losers anyway, the people who were just too odd to be 'normal'. The weird freaks, and not the werewolf type of freak either. Jackson didn't bother with them, or their opinion, because usually they weren't even worth being on his radar. Their voices were too small and insignificant for him. But now, thanks to Stiles and McCall and Danny, the losers like Reese had been thrust onto his radar and their opinions suddenly hurt.
But typically, when Jackson got hurt, he got angry. He shrunk back only a little so that he could then burst forward and launch an all out offence against whoever had wronged him. Like he had with the bumbling baboons of Scott and Stiles, making sure to spite them in lacrosse. Like he had with Lydia time and time again - she had shown him up too many times and then he made sure to shift the power to he was on top. Jackson always had to be on top because otherwise, who was really getting screwed? Reese would be no different, Jackson was either going to ruin her into agreeing or he'd prove to her that he was more than what she saw in him. Jackson lived to please and prove himself, and he was going to show her that he was distinctly, not an asshole. No, what was the word she used? Asshat, that was the one. Which made little sense anyway, asses didn't even wear hats. Sometimes Jackson was blown away by the students in Beacon Hills - of course he knew McCall's mother did all the grocery shopping, but how the other wolf couldn't get that he was talking about steroids was a true testimony to his intelligence.
Of course, to try to not be an asshole, hat - whatever - he needed to well... change. There wasn't a way in hell that he'd ask Reese what it was she hated about him, because that would be to admit defeat. So he needed someone who was well liked... someone who knew how to be liked, popular. Of course, no one was as popular as he was, but there were a few people who were damn close. Like McCall, but he was beyond busy with not failing this year. Jackson had seen him around, no longer with Allison but he was surprisingly chipper. At least he'd finally got rid of that dorky haircut, who did McCall think he was? The floppy long hair was only really belonging on crappy British boy bands or greasy skaters who'd never heard of shampoo. McCall wasn't either of those, even though he did certainly have many skeletons in his closet, none were so trivial.
Perhaps he could ask Allison, she wasn't totally fake like a lot of people he knew, and wasn't afraid to tell him the truth how it was. Not to mention, she'd probably love a distraction from Scott. Jackson wasn't blind and he'd seen how she looked at him in class, and how she'd try not to think or talk about him when they hung out and then whoops there his name was. Out in the air between them, setting tension and awkwardness that even Stiles could have seen. Not to mention, Allison had vaulted into her decent group of friends and even had Lydia's training ingrained into her, which was a lot like having Lydia's advice just without the red head - strawberry blonde - girl. What wasn't there to love? Since Jackson was doing this to also spite her too, Allison seemed like a good bet. She also wouldn't make him watch the Notebook for 'research'. Jackson only wanted to get Reese to prom in a semi presentable way, not fall for her and then kiss her in the rain.
Kissing in the rain was overrated anyway. It was just cold and clammy, and long hair turned into rats tails and clothes were ruined. Luckily, he had a free period and so did Allison. Jackson sauntered into the library and almost stalked Allison down the trails between the shelves until he stood before her, shoulders back and that grin on his face. The grin that suggested that him being here was a privilege. Allison looked up at him, through her long eyelashes and as usual, his typical cockiness didn't affect her. She'd never been impressed with him either, but Jackson had won her around. He supposed that after having to hunt his sexy kanima ass kind of meant that any fear she'd had for him in human form was gone. Which wasn't really a bad thing. But it also meant that she wouldn't be the kind of girl to throw herself at his feet, and so her chocolate brown eyes locked onto his almost teal blue with an unwavering stare.
Allison was smart, she wasn't going to give him the benefit of asking him what she wanted. She knew he'd hunted her out and now she was going to wait for him to tell her. They stayed like this, locked in their intense, silent showdown for about three minutes before Jackson broke. He groaned softly and looked up, slumping. "Fine, I need your..." he struggled forming the word, lowering his voice until it was barely audible - even by werewolf standards. "Help." Allison's eyebrows raised in surprise, her mouth forming into that little 'oh' but it slowly settled in her mind that Jackson Whittemore, had just asked her for help and she was going to savour this moment. Waiting for a few moments, before nodding twice.
"What with? I mean I'm not going to tutor you because I promised Lydia I'd let you crash and burn in all your grades," She explained, but Jackson lifted his hand to silence her, an almost pained look on his face. It was bad enough that he'd had to ask for help, but he didn't want to draw out the experience for even longer. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly and tilted his head down to look at her,
"No. No, not with tutoring. Please my grades are some of the best in the year," Jackson shook his head, running a hand through his immaculate hair and not for once caring that it was now messy and slightly ruffled. "You thought i was kind of a dick, didn't you? When we first met" Jackson began, almost barking out his words. Allison looked at him with another wave of shock and shrugged, lifting on shoulder and making her dark waves tremble.
"Well yeah. And not just when we first met... you're still not exactly a 'nice' guy, not like Sco-" Jackson lifted his hand to cover her mouth, cutting out Allison before she could go back to mentioning the awkward alpha in the corner. But he'd gotten his answer and so he waited for her to thin her eyes, before lowering his hand again, allowing her to speak once more. "What's this about? It can't be Lydia because you know that she's fallen hard for you no matter what... so... Oh wait, duh" she shook her head at her own slowness and then looked back up at Jackson above her. "It's Reese, isn't it? You have that stupid bet... and she rejected you, right?" Jackson nodded a little, heaviness weighing on him as the memory of Reese's blunt words rung back through his mind. She was unimpressed.
"Yes. She rejected me. Even though i was totally honest and didn't string her along. I mean that's what shoots the guy in the foot in those sodding movies. Trust me. Lydia's forced me through enough of them, remember?" Jackson shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. Allison shook her head, almost smiling. Jackson was... clueless as to how to really impress someone who was looking for more than a trophy boy.
"You did also call her a mess. And make her cry. You could have just asked her to prom, or started a conversation with her first. You don't have to be so blunt... i mean when you were trying to use me to get to Scott - yes i know about that - you managed to actually talk to me. What makes Reese any different?" Allison quirked one of her eyebrows, challenging him. Jackson answered without missing a heartbeat,
"She's a freak. And isn't very beautiful or have anything interesting to talk-" Allison cut him off with that intense, bordering on angry, look that she had mastered so well. It must of been an Argent talent, to be able to intimidate people - werewolves with just a glare. Jackson could have ripped her limb from limb but with a look like that he almost felt the roles reversed. The brunette lifted up a single finger, point number one;
"Reese isn't a freak," she lifted up a second finger, point number two, "people are worth more than their looks," and a third finger, point number three, "You've never spoken to her before, unless to push her out of the way in the corridor or make fun of how she dresses. Not to mention Jackson, you think that no one has anything good to say" and she had a point. Jackson nodded subtly, and rolled his eyes. Running his hand through his hair again, which was now just beyond the point of being fixed without all of his products, he looked at Allison once again.
"Alright. So how do i... get her to agree to give me a chance?" He bit out, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him once again. Allison thought for a second, lifting a hand to tuck some hair behind her ear. She sighed softly, signalling a lost inner battle and she nodded.
"Right well... talk to her. Approach her like you did me. Pretend to be interested if you think you can manage it. I'll talk to her too... we sit together in physics and i have that last today. Who knows Jackson, if you try and be nice, you might have to stop trying eventually" She finished and didn't wait for a reaction. Allison walked away, padding softly between the shelves to find some books. She had left Jackson standing alone, lifting his chin as he looked up towards the ceiling and groaned softly. It hadn't been such a bad encounter, but the fact he'd admitted defeat and needed help this early in the bet had irked him. He was Jackson Whittemore, he was practically a legend for pete's sake!
