A Special Kind of Crazy
Chapter Seventeen
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!
Jade let out a series of incomprehensible grumbles as she lightly held the ice pack to her face and grimaced in disgust. It was official. She was now adding ice packs to the long list of things that she absolutely hated. She despised everything about it, from the way her hand felt like it was being frost-bitten from holding onto the damn thing to how frozen it made her face feel. It wasn't making her bruise feel any better, she was sure of it. If anything, holding it against her cheek only seemed to worsen the pain. "Ugh! It's not doing anything. It still hurts and it's so cold," she complained in a whiny-sounding voice so unlike her normal tone of voice, despising the cold sensation as it rested against her cheek.
"The cold's supposed to help the swelling," Beck tried to reassure her, only half successfully biting back a bark of laughter. She really was adorable, with the little pout on her face and the ill-natured grumbling. He almost expected her to start scuffing the ground with her boots at any time. His choked laughter only made the pout more pronounced. It was also becoming painfully obvious that Jade West was not a good patient, another fact that he was delighted to know about her. He thought the school nurse was either going to scream in vexation or cry in frustration at how uncooperative Jade had been throughout the whole ordeal. He didn't want to know what would have happened if he hadn't been there with her. He'd been able to coax her into answering the questions truthfully and without too much of a sarcastic bent to them. But the verdict had been exactly what Jade had suggested to begin with: a simple black eye, no concussion, nothing more and nothing less. Although he hated seeing the bruise on her face, he was grateful it wasn't anything else.
"But it's cold, Beck. Cold!" she whined again, sounding incredibly pathetic. Stopping in her tracks, she whirled around to face him and waved her free arm around wildly to punctuate each word she spoke, "I hate ice packs."
He had to forcibly bite down on his bottom lip to keep from smiling. He slipped off his flannel shirt, leaving him in a long-sleeve black shirt, and carefully draped it over her shoulders, hoping his shirt would either warm her up or make her feel better. Bonus points if it did both. "Here, Jade. This should help."
"Sure. A shirt is going to make my face feel warmer," she shot back sarcastically, aiming a tiny glare his way that was nowhere near as intimidating as it should have been. It was hard to be on point with a painful bruise residing on her cheek. Although she complained about the shirt and threw in one hefty eye roll from her good eye on principle, she haltingly slid first one arm and then the other into his shirt. Then she swallowed back a swear word because, damn, he was right. His shirt did help. First of all, it was warm. Like, incredibly warm, as in she never wanted to take it off. Plus it smelled like him, of course it did since he'd just been wearing it, and she was becoming more and more knowledgeable of the fact that she really enjoyed his scent. She barely resisted the urge to sniff his shirt, not wanting him to see that. She would do that when he wasn't looking at her, she decided with a short nod, admiring the red and black pattern on the shirt. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she liked his shirt. And it was comfortable. Big, roomy, and so very, very comfortable. Maybe he knew something she didn't. Maybe there was something more to flannel shirts than she ever expected. Or maybe she just liked wearing his shirt.
"I'll drive you home," he said, letting out a relieved breath when she accepted his shirt without too much of a complaint. Seeing her wear it gave him an odd sense of pride or accomplishment or something. He couldn't quite put his finger on how it was making him feel. He just knew that he really liked it. It seemed to make her happier, too. There was a small smile flittering around the edge of her mouth now, which had to be an improvement over the glare she'd just been wearing. Since she seemed less…difficult, he figured she would be more likely to accept his proposal to drive her home. Not that she had much of a say in it. He wasn't letting her drive, not with the state of her black eye. She could barely see out of it.
She studied him for a long moment, her eyebrows furrowed together in deep contemplation before she nodded once in resignation. "Fine. You'll have to bring me back to school tomorrow to get my car," she warned him, pointing an authoritative finger at him. Just because she was letting him watch out for her didn't mean that she still wasn't in charge. "I'm not leaving it here all weekend. I want it back tomorrow."
"Deal." He shot her a satisfied grin, pleased she hadn't put up a fight. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he guided her out of the school. They were quiet the entire way with only the sound of their boots clicking along the pavement.
When they reached his car, he opened the passenger side door for her and she slid in with only a small huff of annoyance at his display of proper manners. She didn't have the energy to call him out on his chivalrous streak. The second she snapped her seatbelt into place, she laid her head back against the headrest and practically melted into the seat. "I really hate this ice pack," she complained once more, sighing heavily.
"I know," he spoke in an understanding tone of voice, smiling a little as he started up the car and backed out of his parking spot. "When we get to your house, I'll get you a towel. We can wrap it up in it. It'll feel better and it won't be as cold. I promise."
Having enough of the cold, she took it off her face with a loud groan and put it next to her on the seat. "Perfect. I'll put the damn thing back on when you get me a towel."
Amused, he shot a half-grin at her. Hell, she was good at ordering people about. He'd seen her do it often enough at school. He'd never expected that he'd be the one she was ordering around. His grin grew because he discovered that he really liked being ordered around by her. When they came to the end of the parking lot, he pulled to a stop and turned to face her, a questioning look on his face. He didn't know where she lived. "So…which way do we go?"
She rattled off an address that had his eyes popping a little. Before he could say anything, she rolled her good eye and muttered almost defensively, as if she was embarrassed about where she lived, "It's my mom's house." She didn't add that her father lived in an equally impressive place…or that she hated both of their houses with a passion.
All right. Something else he'd just learned about her. She didn't like sharing that she lived in an extremely nice section of town, Beck mused as he turned to the right and pulled out into the street, starting what he know would be about a twenty minute ride to her house from the school. It would probably be about a fifteen minute ride to get from his house to hers, depending on the traffic, he quickly calculated as he drove. He glanced over at her, grateful that the traffic was light as of now. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she murmured, enjoying the gentle, soothing motion of the car as he drove her home. "A little tired now, maybe, but definitely better. Even without that stupid ice pack on my face."
He didn't plan it. He just did it, without thinking, without considering if she'd like it or not or if he'd pull back a bloody stump instead of his hand. Reaching out, his free hand covered hers. He even squeezed her hand, letting her know that he was there for her. "You're a tough one, Jade West."
"Don't I know it," she laughed lightly back, taking his comment for the compliment that it was, her eyes meeting his before he turned back to concentrate on the road. Her fingers flexed reflexively underneath his hand. Although she knew she should pull away, she didn't. She turned her hand underneath his and squeezed his hand back, the motion thanking him for all of the help he'd given her.
A comfortable silence enveloped them as he drove closer and closer to her house. He was surprised; he never thought he'd be this comfortable with her before, especially when they weren't even talking. Usually, the words flowed easily back and forth between them, even if he was the one who initiated the majority of their conversations. It slightly shocked him that they could be silent and that he could feel even more relaxed with her. It all kept leading to an obvious truth. The more he was around her, the more he wanted to be around her.
"It's coming up on the right," she told him, finally taking her hand out from underneath his, completely ignoring the fact that she'd willingly held his hand the entire way to her house. That was something to ponder when she was alone. She pointed towards her driveway. "It's gated, though. I'll get us through it. I can do it through an app on my phone."
Gated. Of course, it was gated. He pulled in, waited as she called up the app that would open the gate from her phone and type in the code. When the gates swung open for him, he drove through and up the impressive driveway. His car came to a stop in front of a very large, very Mediterranean-looking house. It looked like it belonged on the shores of the Aegean Sea. "Wow," was all he could say as he glanced up at the house. It was a showcase, like it was so amazingly beautiful it should seriously be on the front cover of a magazine.
"It's my mom's pride and joy," she told him, not impressed with her house at all. If anything, it was more of a hindrance to her, proof that her mom cared more for four walls and a roof than she ever did for her own daughter. Her father was just as bad, paying more attention to his high-paying job and his ever-evolving string of women willing to overlook the fact that he was cold and unemotional in favor of his large bank account and his equally large penthouse. At least he'd learn to have whatever wife he was married to at the time sign a pre-nup beforehand. Only her mother had been smart enough not to. "She's an interior designer."
Shaking off his preoccupation with her home that seemed to be more sprawling mansion than a house, he got out and rounded the hood of the car quickly, opening it before she could. He caught her smirking at him. His answering smirk wasn't nearly as good as hers. Then he grabbed her bag from the back and closed her door. "So…where are your towels?"
A rare, full smile bloomed across her face. She wasn't used to people living up to their promises to her. She'd forgotten that he was supposed to get her a towel. So far, the only person from Hollywood Arts who'd graced her house had been Cat. It looked like Beck was about to be the second one. "Come on."
They walked up an attractive stone pathway, bookmarked with absolutely flawless landscaping on each side. She let them in with her key and then immediately went to disengage the high quality alarm system that helped protect the house. Beck stood in the large foyer, looking up and up and up at the high ceiling with an ornate chandelier dangling above them. Then he glanced around, noting the wide, winding staircase that led to the second story. Last, he studied the floor. It had to be marble, he noted with awe, and it had large, and expensive, ornamental carpets placed strategically here or there.
She came back to him. Taking her bag from him, she led the way into an enormous living room. She dropped her bag onto an ornate but uncomfortable looking arm chair before collapsing herself on a large, overly stuffed sofa decorated with countless pillows. Reaching down, she slipped off first one boot and then the other. Wiggling her toes, she inclined her head towards the hallway, making sure he kept her promise to her. "The kitchen's that way. I think you can find a dish towel for my ice pack somewhere in there."
"All right. I'll see what I can find." Turning on his heels, he went in the direction she pointed, not surprised in the least that she'd sent him to forage for a towel in a house he'd never been in before. He'd promised to get her one. He walked slowly, taking in the overall atmosphere of her home. It almost seemed unlived-in, like he was walking through a photo shoot for a magazine instead of through an actual home. It was beautifully designed, there was no denying that, but there was a coldness residing just below the surface. Most people probably wouldn't recognize it. He did, though, and that was because of his relationship with Jade. She'd let him in enough for him to know that her home life wasn't wonderful. There was no life behind house. No happiness. No organized mess, like many people had in their homes. And there was absolutely nothing personal. There weren't any pictures of Jade or her family on the walls or in picture frames. Just neutral nature scenes on the walls and assorted knickknacks here and there on the shelves. Fresh flowers were held in thick crystal vases, centered perfectly on cute little tables. Beautiful decorated, gorgeously set-up…yet lacking any warmth. It honestly made him sad for her. He finally found the kitchen, which was huge and decorated almost entirely in white with high-end appliances and an impressive island taking up residence in the center of the kitchen.
After inspecting the kitchen, he started opening and closing drawers at random until he finally came to one that held a wide assortment of thick, plush, high quality dish towels. He pulled out a cream-colored one and, before walking back to the living room, he found a fresh ice pack in the bottom of the freezer. He couldn't help but grin, imagining her reaction when she saw the new ice pack. She was going to hate it, he just knew it.
Beck stopped in the doorway of the living room. She was now sprawled out on the sofa, taking up nearly the entire thing. Her feet, which were covered in black socks, were hanging over the edge and her head was resting on one of the many decorative pillows lying on the furniture. He barely resisted the urge to tickle her toes. Her ice pack from school was on the floor, most obviously placed there on purpose, making him smile. He held up the new ice pack. "I've got you a new ice pack, fresh from the freezer."
"Ugh. I'm not putting it on so don't even try," she warned him, her eyes closed and her voice lacking its normal fierce heat. Her hands were resting comfortable at her side.
He approached the sofa carefully and considered all of the possibilities. Wrestling her and forcing the new ice pack on her was one possibility. While the thought of wrestling her again was extremely appealing, he didn't want to, not when she was hurt. Disregarding the thought immediately, he decided he'd wait for that until she was one hundred percent healed. His eyes lit up with consideration when the next idea came to him. Going with it, he walked around the big wooden coffee table resting in front of the sofa. He wrapped the towel around the ice pack and sat down in the miniscule amount of space between her head and the end of the sofa. Settling back against it, he declared loudly, hoping to distract her from his chosen course of action, "Whoa. This sofa is really comfortable."
"Yeah. It is. It's a good one for…" Her words were cut off when she felt him lift up the pillow her head was lying on. Before she knew it, he slid underneath her. Just like that, the pillow and her head were in his lap. And a fresh ice pack was held against her face. At least the new ice pack was wrapped in a soft towel so it wasn't as cold as the first one had been. Her mouth dropped open as she stared up at him, astonished. "What the hell! Beck!"
"Shhhh," he told her quietly, soothingly, and holding the ice pack gently against her cheek. "It's wrapped in a towel. It can't be that cold any more. I'll hold it for you so you don't have to."
She looked directly up at him, a small frown on her face. It wasn't so much the ice pack that was bothering her, not any longer. It was him. Her head was in his lap…in his lap! Granted, there was a pillow between her head and his lap but still. And he was close to her. So close. She thought about struggling to get up, she really did, but, with his hand on the ice pack holding it lightly to her face and the sudden feeling of warmth and comfort coming from being so close to him, she held her tongue. Instead, she dropped her gaze from his face and looked to the side, where she was meant with a wall of black fabric. He'd worn a black shirt underneath the flannel he'd give her, she just realized. She'd been too preoccupied to notice earlier. Black, she decided, looked mighty good on him. She didn't tell him, though. "It's still cold," she grumbled, more on principle than for any other reason.
His answering chuckle warmed her as much as his flannel shirt did. "Close your eyes," he ordered her and was surprised when she gave in without a fight.
"I hate this ice pack, too, just so you know. And I'm tired," she complained, simply because she wanted to complain. "Plus I really hate black eyes."
"You can take a nap," he suggested softly, staring down at her. She was wiggling around a little, obviously trying to make herself as comfortable as possible. "We're not going anywhere."
"I'm hungry," she complained again, sounding more like a petulant child than the fierce girl he knew her to be.
"We can get something to eat after you finish with the ice on your face," he replied, keeping his voice low and even. He finally gave in. With his free hand, he started to stroke her hair. Hell, her hair was so soft under his fingers. He couldn't resist and ran a hand over one of her colored streaks. Then he started to trace small, soothing circles along the side of her temple. "Not the taco place, though. We can go there sometime next week after rehearsal, if you'd like that."
"Mmmm," was her answer. With the warmth surrounding her from being so close to him, and the way he was alternately running his fingers through her hair or touching her temple, she was suddenly very, very sleepy. She felt her eyes closing even tighter. A few deep, relaxing breaths and she was out.
When she didn't say anything else to him, only let out a breathy little moan that pulled at something deep within him, Beck cautiously looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fanning out, a dark contrast to her pale skin. Her chest was rising and falling with her deep, even breaths. And her mouth was slightly parted. She'd really fallen asleep. A huge smile slowly spread across his face. He'd never expected her to trust him so much that she would fall asleep when she was with him. Because he really liked touching her hair, and because she hadn't protested it when he'd done it while she was awake, he continued to do so. He studied what she looked like while she slept, unsure when or if he'd ever have the opportunity to watch her sleep again. She looked so peaceful, so tranquil; words he doubted anyone but him would ever use to describe Jade West.
When the front door opened and closed about ten minutes later, his head shot up. Must be her mother, he thought with a blinding flash of insight, wondering if he should feel panicked or worried that he was home alone with her daughter. He watched the open doorway when he heard footsteps coming their way. The rhythmic clicking of her heels against the marble floor alerted him as her mother came closer and closer to the living room.
"Jade, I have a meeting with a new client in a few minutes. I'll be in my office upstairs for the rest of the night. But I brought home some…" She came to a stop when she saw someone else with Jade in the living room. She wasn't used to Jade having friends over. Pausing in the doorway, she took in the scene in front of her before lifting a slim shoulder. "Oh. Hello, there."
She looked so much like Jade, only with hazel eyes instead of her brilliant blue ones. Beck felt a small flush appear on his face as he raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Mrs. West." He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when he saw her glance down at her phone after it chirped. When she looked back up at him after checking her latest message, he said, somewhat lamely, "I'm Beck. I'm a friend of Jade's. We're in a play together at school."
"That's good," she replied absently, not really hearing him. Her mind was already on the meeting she needed to get to. She didn't look up as she started typing something in. Waving a slim hand in his direction, already forgetting his presence, she held up the take out bags she was holding in the air and informed him, "I'm going to put the food on the kitchen counter. Tell Jade there's Chinese for dinner, Jack! There's plenty for you, too."
Jack? She thought his name was Jack? His eyes furrowed together. Unsure if he should correct her or not, she was gone, already on her way to the kitchen to drop the food off. That was all? Seriously? He wondered as her mother left. She didn't want to know why a strange guy was in their house or why her daughter had an ice pack on her face? Had she even noticed? Did she even care? He heard the sound of a cell phone ringing and the muted voice of her mother as she answered the call. Wow, Jade was right, he thought as he looked down into her face again. If her father was anything like her mother, and it wasn't a hard stretch to think that he was, then her parents really did suck.
Jade started moving around a little, just a shift of her body here or there, as if their voices had disturbed her sleep. Beck sucked in a breath and, before he realized what he was doing, he started stroking her hair again. She let out a soft little moan that did something strong to him and moved her body closer to him, as if she was unconsciously seeking his warmth. He took the ice pack off, figuring it had been on long enough, and, not caring if it was creepy at all, watched her while she slept. He ignored the black and purple bruise on her cheek, only stopping long enough to note that the ice pack had decreased the swelling considerably. It was going to be sore for awhile and it was going to go through the various colored stages bruises typically went through, but it was going to be fine. He traced a gentle finger across her cheek bone, right underneath the bruise, and noted that her skin was chilly from the ice pack, even with the towel wrapped her around. Then he dropped his hand, even though he wanted to touch her more. It wouldn't be right, not with her asleep, so he settled for looking at her. And look he did, noting everything about her. She was just as beautiful in her sleep as she was when she was awake. While he found himself more and more drawn to her and her acerbic, sarcastic, bossy ways, he really enjoyed this side of her, a side that most people probably didn't even know existed. She was so relaxed and…soft.
About fifteen minutes after her mother disappeared into the house, she started stirring again. This time, he realized she was going to wake up. He watched as she stretched her back, cataloguing each movement that she made. He held his breath when she turned on her side and unconsciously sought him out. Oh, wow, he couldn't help but think as one of her arms wrapped around his back, kind of like he was her pillow, and her head burrowed into his stomach, as if she was either seeking out a more comfortable position to sleep in or if she wanted to block out the light. She held onto him for a few blessed seconds before she must have realized something was just a wee bit out of the ordinary. He could tell to the second when she remembered where she was and that she wasn't alone. Her arms fell to the sofa, a small sound fell from her lips, and she shot straight up. Wide blue eyes bathed in astonishment snapped to his. Her mouth was bowed open. For once, she was speechless. And in complete and total shock.
He took advantage of it. Knowing she was momentarily incapable of speech, he drew her to him slowly. He held her lightly, his arms wrapped around her waist just like she had done to him a few moments earlier. Not wanting to go into how much he enjoyed holding her because he knew that would shut her down, he started the conversation off with something mundane, "Your mom dropped off some Chinese food."
She wanted to lay her head against his chest. She really, really did. She didn't, though, only stared at the black fabric of his shirt and the five black buttons that ran down from the top. Why did it feel so good to be this close to him? She kept the thought to herself and put a lot of effort into her reply, not wanting him to know how much she liked being held by him. Releasing a long suffering sigh, she said playfully, "I guess I could eat Chinese. I mean, it's not a burrito like we planned earlier but I can make do. I can be flexible."
"Hey, it's not my fault you got hurt," he responded with mock indignation, grinning down at her. He enjoyed her playful streak. And he loved that she hadn't pushed herself out of his loose embrace yet. "The food's in the kitchen. I think your mom's upstairs in her office."
"Another meeting," she stated needlessly with a negative shake of her head. Nothing new there. It was pretty much like every other night in their household, including the weekends.
"She thinks my name is Jack," he told her, his voice tinted with good humor. He wasn't used to people completely overlooking him, especially if they were of the feminine variety. It didn't happen to him much.
"Jack," she repeated the name under her breath, smirking at it. She let out a delighted laugh, not surprised in the least. Her mother wasn't known for paying attention to anything that happened in Jade's life. "My mom's not a very good listener. At least, not when it comes to things that don't have to do with her work." She slowly pulled herself out of his embrace and gave a long lazy stretch, having no clue that Beck watched her intently the whole time as she arched her back, wanting to get the kinks from her nap out. She grabbed the towel and both ice packs before standing up. She was never using either one of them again. "Come on. Let's go get dinner. I'm starved."
He went with her, slightly surprised he was going to have dinner with Jade inside her house. This was not how he had expected the evening to go at all. As he walked along with her, he decided there was no other place he'd rather be than with her. After they'd each grabbed a drink, a carton or two of the Chinese food that had been left out on the counter, and a fork since there hadn't been any chopsticks in the bags with the food, he pulled out a stool, preparing to sit down at the island.
"What are you doing?" she questioned with a perplexed little frown.
"Sitting?" he replied quizzically, motioning to the stool.
Sighing dramatically, she shook her head and grabbed his free hand. "We are not eating in here. Come with me. I'll show you my favorite place here. Next to my room, of course. That's where we're going to eat."
He couldn't believe she'd willingly grabbed his hand. Knowing he would follow her just about anywhere, he pushed the stool in and walked back through the house. They went by a few more rooms he hadn't seen yet. One looked like a library or maybe a den and another was definitely a formal dining room. They finally came to a set of wide French doors. After she pushed them both open, he realized that they were standing outside on a beautifully constructed stone patio. He looked around, noticing that there were two different levels to the patio. The top part had a built-in grill, what looked like a wet bar, and a high table with stools. He followed her down the two steps that brought them to the lower level. Sets of comfortable looking patio furniture was spread out, practically inviting anyone around to come and have a seat. If he didn't miss his guess, there was also a pool and a Jacuzzi set off to the side.
She settled down on a comfortable wicker loveseat and tucked her feet underneath her. "I like it out here, especially at night," she told him as a gentle breeze blew around them. The light breeze played with the strands of hair, teasing and lifting a few of them. Absently, she tucked them back behind her ear. Solar lights, placed in matching increments along the edge of the large yard, as well as a few attached to the side of the house, starting to light up with the coming of the dark. Reaching behind her, she flipped on a switch and a fire pit he hadn't noticed before in front of them roared to life.
"I can see why," he said after taking it all in. Even though there were countless other spots available, he sat down next to her, earning a small smile from her.
"I spend most of my time either here or in my room. I really like doing my homework here. The rest of the house is just too white, bright, boring, and…showy," she said on a little sigh. "It's much better out here."
He could relate. After all, he much preferred living in an RV than in his actual house. He didn't say it, only shared a small smile with her, but he knew she understood. At least she had a few places where she felt at peace in her house. He pulled out his phone and glanced down at the screen before he started eating. "Whoa," he muttered, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the way his phone had been blown up.
She looked up from her container of fried rice, curious. "What is it?"
"Lots of missed texts and calls," he replied, showing her his phone. Because she was closest to Cat out of his group of friends, he called up one from her after she'd seen his notifications and read it aloud, imitating Cat's voice to the best of his ability and making her chuckle at his attempt, "Beeeeckkkkk! Where are you? Are you with Jade? Neither one of you are answering your texts! We just want you to come to Tori's to play cards! Come over. Please!"
"Play cards?" She looked at him in puzzlement. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Probably a game night at Tori's," Beck answered with a little shrug. It was news to him, too. He hadn't known a game night had been planned. He went back through his texts until he found the group text Tori had sent out before their rehearsal had started, right around the time he'd silenced his phone. "Yup. I was right."
She watched as he put his phone down on the end table. "Aren't you going to answer them?"
"Nope," he replied cheerfully, eating a forkful of noodles. "I'm not in the mood to play cards. Plus I'm happy just being here."
Eyes downcast, she suddenly found her rice interesting, trying to fight the blush that wanted to attack her face. She wasn't very good at it. After taking a small bite, she finally murmured, "Okay."
"What about you? Cat wanted both of us to go to Tori's. Did you get any messages from her?" He swallowed a sip from his bottle of soda, curious about her answer.
"My phone's in my bag. And my bag is in the living room," she said with a lift of a pierced eyebrow. "So, I don't know if I have any messages or not. I haven't looked at my phone since I silenced it before rehearsal." That was hours ago. Hesitating, she took a big, brave breath before admitting in quiet voice he almost didn't hear, "And I'm happy just being here, too."
He shared a big smile with her, her words both surprising him and making him feel really good. He knocked his shoulder into hers and continued eating his food. When she motioned for him to swap their containers, he gave in with a little shrug. They exchanged their food and stared at the fire in front of them, enjoying the quiet of the night as they ate their dinner.
"By the way, I figured out what I'm going to take of yours," she announced suddenly into the silence, putting the container of noodles on the small table at the end of her seat with a decided snap. She contemplated him over the top of her water bottle before putting it down, too.
He eyed her carefully and tilted his head to the side, confused. "What do you mean?"
"You took my pen and my ring. Plus you stole a sip of my coffee. You're lucky to be alive after that one," she informed him with a haughty sneer. No one messed with her coffee. Except, apparently, for him. Tapping him on the knee, she reminded him, "I told you I would let you know what I wanted to take from you the other day. Remember?"
Ah, now he remembered. He angled his body so he could focus on her, having no clue what she wanted of his. But he remembered agreeing that she could take something of his, to even things out. It was only fair. "So, what do you want?"
She fingered the edge of his flannel shirt and then announced firmly, "I'm keeping your shirt."
His mouth fell open. It took him a second to regain his composure before he said, somewhat stupidly, "No, you can't. That's my favorite shirt."
"Now it's my favorite shirt," she said, aiming a wink at him, pleased with her decision. She gave him a playful punch to his shoulder, a mischievous light gleaming in her eyes. "And I get to keep it. Thanks, by the way. I really like it. I think I'm starting to understand your fascination with flannel. It's really comfortable. "
"You're welcome," he replied, swallowing a groan of defeat. He figured he totally deserved it. After all, he had taken a few of her things without asking. He absently played with the ring on his finger. Plus she wanted to keep his shirt. There had to be some hidden meaning behind that. "I'm glad you like the shirt."
"It's grown on me," she shrugged, staring at the fire pit with a satisfied smirk on her face.
He watched the fire as it cast ever-changing shadows across her face. "I might try to take it back," he warned her, only half-joking. It really was his favorite shirt.
Slowly, she turned around and stared at him. The firelight made her eyes seem darker than her normal tropical blue. Going up on her knees on the seat, she placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and leaned in towards him until they were eye-to-eye. She spoke quietly but confidently, offering him a challenge, "I'd like to see you try."
His hands came up to rest automatically on each side of her waist. She was close, so close all it would take was one little tug forward and he'd be kissing her. His grip tightened at the realization. He could visualize it happening, in all its high-def glory. Working hard to control his breathing, he almost gave into the urge to tug her forward. Almost. "I'll let you keep it. For now," he whispered, his voice soft, low and husky sounding. "Since you've got a boo-boo eye and all."
Her heart was beating much faster than she ever thought possible. Her stomach was practically flipping over, whether in nerves or anticipation she couldn't quite confirm. Being so close to him like this wasn't a good idea. It couldn't be a good idea. Like, ever. She kept trying to tell herself that. She really did, running through a list of very valid reasons in her mind. They were working together on a play, a play that opened in two weeks. There were loads of rehearsals between now and then. She shouldn't be wondering what it would be like for his lips to be on hers, voluntarily and not because it was required by something a writer wrote for a scene in a play. "It's mine," she insisted strongly, meeting his gaze squarely. Brown to blue, an absolutely perfect match. "You won't be getting it back. What's mine is mine."
"Good to know," he replied hoarsely, tightening his grip on her waist. All it would take would be one quick tug and she'd be in his lap. Only, this time she wouldn't be sleeping and he wouldn't be content to just play with her hair. He'd finally find out what kissing her for real would be like. He enjoyed the stage kissing they'd done for the play; he'd be lying if he said he hadn't. But that had been a scene written by someone else, not by their own choice. How he wanted it to be a choice they made together. "I'll remember that."
She stared at him, her eyes gleaming. Slowly, she took in how he looked in the darkening of the evening. With his dark eyes, dark hair, and tan skin, he somehow fit right in with the encroachment of the twilight. That was so odd, for someone who was also so positive, welcoming, and friendly, to fit in so comfortably with the dark. Her hands tightened around his shoulders. "I'm not much of sharer," she warned him, her own voice sounding lower, thicker and so unlike her own. Sultry, almost. "I don't do nice. And I'm not easy to get along with. You won't be getting your shirt back. I can guarantee you that."
"Okay. Fair enough. But I feel like I should warn you I'm really good at persuading," he told her, speaking the truth. He brought one hand up and carefully cupped the non-injured side of her face, running a thumb along the soft skin of her cheek. He pitched his voice low. "Don't write me off just because I'm nice."
"It's mine now." Her voice was less confident than it had been a moment earlier. His touch was just that nice, that…whoa! Her good eye popped open. She aimed a little glare at him, understanding what he'd been trying to do. He was good, much better than she'd ever thought possible. It only made her like him even more.
"Time will tell." Reluctantly, he dropped his hands from her. They still tingled from touching her, though. Even more reluctantly, he moved back from her, hating the fact that he was the one breaking whatever spell had been surrounding them. The tension he felt between them started to dissipate as soon as there was some space between them. He wondered if she had felt the tension, too.
She let her hands fall from his shoulders and settled back against the thick cushions of the patio furniture, staring unseeingly ahead. Whatever that was that had happened between them, it had been intense. Powerful. And potent. Looking at the flickering flames of the fire without actually seeing them, she slowly admitted to herself that she'd wanted to kiss him…or have him kiss her. She didn't particularly care which way it went, as long as it had ended with them kissing each other. Okay, this was something very, very new to her. She glanced up, catching him in profile. He was staring straight ahead at the fire, just like she had been. Using the cover of the encroaching night, she studied him. She knew he was hot and she knew he was handsome. She'd known that the second she'd first seen him at school, back when she'd considered him nothing more than a pretty boy player. How wrong she had been. No, it wasn't his good looks or the quality of his overall hotness that was continuously capturing her attention and bringing her back to him. It was the essence that was just him. Oh, and now she was getting all philosophical and romantical (if that was even a word). She blew out a small breath and tried to regain her equilibrium. She was Jade West, after all, and she was not susceptible to the soft, gooey, lovey-dovey kind of stuff. Ever. Even if she kind of, sort of, most definitely wanted to be. Eyes finally wide open to what was going on between them, to what she wanted to have going on between them, she hastily turned back to look at the fire, a hint of unexpressed wonder on her face. Oh, this was most definitely new to her.
He cleared his throat, hoping that would help dislodge this sharp ball of need he seemed to have just for her. It didn't, not really. He wondered if she felt the same need. The only way to find out was to ask her and there was no way he was bringing that up, not with the success of the play riding on the two of them as the leads. There were only two weeks left until opening night. He could make it two more weeks just being friends with her, right? Close friends? Like, really close friends? Only two more measly weeks? He rubbed his hands along the fabric of his worn jeans, in an effort to keep himself from reaching out for her. This was going to be harder than he ever thought possible.
"I don't suppose I could interest you in a trade? Maybe another one of my shirts instead of that one?" Breaking the wall of silence between them, Beck pointed to the red and black one that she was wearing, wanting to bring back the level of comfort and camaraderie that usually existed between them. This unresolved tension was practically killing him. He couldn't have them drowning in it; he had to be near her. It was fast becoming a necessity. He smiled cajolingly down at her, showing her how persuasive he could be, and added unnecessarily, "I have a lot of flannels. You can have your pick."
She was grateful for his attempt to lighten the heavy mood. Settling back into the ease that usually existed between them, she shook her head with mock sadness. "Nope. Sorry. I don't negotiate. I don't care how many flannel shirts you have. This one's mine, you Canadian lumberjack. You should have thought about that before you started messing with my things."
"Well, you do look good in my shirt," he complimented her, smiling down at her as the rest of the tension finally dissolved between them, conceding for the moment. Noticing that they'd finished off most of the food, he said, changing the subject, "Hey, looks like we're done with dinner. We should probably start cleaning up."
"Yeah. It's getting late." Jade stood up and, because she needed to be busy, started gathering up the empty containers. She handed him a few so that she could reach back and flip off the switch to the fire pit. They worked mostly in silence to clean up the area and, after depositing the items in the trash in the kitchen, they walked together back to her front door.
"Thanks for taking care of me," she thanked him softly when they reached the front door. She opened it slowly, not really wanting him to go but not exactly sure how she could ask him to stay. He'd already gone above and beyond anything she could possibly have expected of him, from the very second she'd collapsed on the stage floor during rehearsal to right now. He'd had taken exceptionally good care of her. She didn't regret letting him, not one bit. If anything, she wished it could last longer.
"Any time." He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, knowing that if he touched her right now he wouldn't be able to stop himself from doing what he'd been dreaming about for a while now. He wasn't that strong. Rocking back on his heels, he reminded her needlessly, "Don't forget I'm going to drive you back to school tomorrow so you can get your car. Text me when you want to get it. I don't have much going on."
"I'll text you a time." She was caught with the same affliction he had, only her black leggings didn't have pockets for her to hide her hands in. She pulled them up into the sleeves of his flannel shirt instead, fisting them inside the material. "See you tomorrow, Beck."
He walked through the front door and looked back over his shoulder at her. She was framed in the doorway, with the light from the foyer bathing her from behind in a gorgeous golden glow. That feeling he'd been trying to suppress was back, even stronger and more potent than it had been before. Words were once again lodged within that ball of need in his throat. He couldn't get rid of it, not this time. It was going to be difficult to overlook, from here on out. Because he couldn't speak, he had to give her a smile and a short nod of acknowledgement instead. Reluctantly, he turned away and felt immediate regret for not taking any of the chances offered him when the door closed behind him with a definite click. It wasn't time, he ordered himself fiercely as he walked along the pathway back towards his car, fishing his keys out of his pocket. It couldn't be time. They had two full weeks left of rehearsals and two performances of the play to complete together. He couldn't risk it, not with so much riding on the two of them. There was no guarantee that she felt the same way he did. He'd try for her soon, he knew he would, but not yet. Releasing a loud sigh, he couldn't help but think that the not yet absolutely, positively sucked.
Author's Note:
Thank you to all of the wonderful readers and reviewers out there! I always appreciate it, so very much! School is starting back up for me once again (and everything is quite different this year) so I won't be able to update quite as quickly as I would like to. I apologize in advance! I will still be working on the story, though! Thank you once again!