The End is Here!

Finally!

Michelle was sitting on her bed when Jackson came down stairs. He glared at the top of her head over the tablet in her hand. There were papers full of sketches scattered around her and a laptop balanced precariously on her knees.

"Uno momento, Baby Alpha," Michelle's forehead was wrinkled and Jackson could tell from the strong scent of cherries in the air that she was stressed. She huffed out a breath, "Some celebrity big shot wants an original design from me for their New Years Eve event and my assistant said yes for me."

"I thought your assistant liked you?" Jackson's nose wrinkled.

"My personal assistant, yes, but apparently my work assistant didn't get the memo about me being on vacation," Michelle practically growled at her tablet.

Jackson watched her fiddle with a sketch, drawing up rough pattern pieces and labeling them with weird equations along each side. He took a seat on the bed, his glare subsiding as he fiddled with his thumbs.

"Okay! Sent!" Michelle declared, tossing her tablet down onto her lap and her head back against the wall. After a short breath she lowered her head to look at Jackson, "What teenage alpha problem am I solving?"

His brow furrowed, "Uh, don't you mean, caused?" Her nose wrinkled. Jackson scoffed, "The closet nonsense."

"Oh~" Michelle nodded, head bouncing as she smirked. Leaning forward on her elbows, she rest her chin in her palm and drew her legs up, "How'd it go?"

"The twins didn't tell you?"

Michelle launched herself at her phone quicker than Jackson had seen anyone move. Ever. He blinked at her. Then he scowled as she started cackling.

"Could you not?" Jackson groaned, hands flying to his face as he tried to block the visual of Michelle literally rolling on her bed in laughter.

"Jackson," Michelle took a breath, laughter in her voice as she sat up, "I would never lock you in a room, that's a fire hazard." He lowered his hands to glare at her. She pursed her lips, but even her damn eyes were laughing.

Literal tears were in the corners of her eyes.

"You're suppose to be helping me here," Jackson huffed. Arms gesturing out wildly.

She did not look even a little guilt.

Did his dramatics mean nothing to her?

"Mean," Jackson pouted.

Michelle just laughed again.

In fairness, it burst out and she clapped a hand over her mouth. So... at least she didn't mean to laugh at his pain?

Progress.

Reaching out a hand, Michelle squeezed his arm, "Jackson, sweetie, I am helping you."

Ha!

Jackson arched a brow and Michelle rolled her eyes, "Did you or did you not get to kiss the girl you liked?"

That was so not the point!

"I'm not suppose to like her like that!" Jackson flapped his hands about, pulling at his hair.

Michelle pursed her lips again.

Standing up, Jackson began to pace, "She's, like, the most off limits a girl could be!"

Ramona literally lived in his house!

"And!" He pointed out, hand raised, "How the hell do I know if I like her because I like her or because I scent marked her?" He arched a brow.

Michelle rolled her eyes.

Rude.

That was a perfectly reasonable question.

"Dude, if you didn't like her, you wouldn't have scent marked her." Michelle drawled. Her phone beeped. She didn't bother glancing at it, just gestured towards the annoying chirp, "Like me and my assistant."

Jackson narrowed his eyes, "You're in love with your assistant?"

"Did I say love?" She arched a brow, lips a thin line.

No. No she had not.

"Interesting word choice there Action Jackson," Michelle smirked.

Evil.

She was pure evil. And too smart. It was an unfair advantage.

"Also an interesting nickname, maybe we should change it to Inaction Jackson."

"I am taking action!" Jackson huffed. Michelle's lips quirked to the side, head tilting. "I am!"

Avoiding someone is a lot of work! Especially if you live in the same house, in adjacent rooms no less!

No respect.

"Jackson, if you like her, tell her," Michelle gave him a pointed look, "or someone else will."

No. No one was stupid enough to ask Ramona out with him aro-

Except his asshole football teammate.

And probably other alphas at school.

"Talking from experience here, Jacks," Michelle nodded towards her phone. Which was still chirping.

Oh. Oh!

"So... your assistant...?"

"Married to my other assistant," Michelle gestured towards her tablet, "Who is very much aware of my awkward crush."

Jackson arched a brow.

"We have a very weird relationship, don't ask questions," Michelle gave him a pointed look and scooted off the bed.

She grabbed both his shoulders, forced him to meet her gaze.

"Do not be an idiot," Michelle spoke slowly and firmly. She gave him a gentle shake, then plopped back on her bed and grabbed her phone.

A disgusted groan echoed around the room as she held it to her face.

Michelle reached for her tablet and Jackson figured that was her way of telling him to get lost.

If not, well, she knew he was a sucky communicator so it was at least 50% her fault.

Jackson climbed the stairs as he shot Popko a text.

Is there anyone at school interested in Ramona?"

The 'read' indicator popped up quick. The 'typing...' too. It also repeatedly disappeared and reappeared for over five minutes.

Jackson was sitting on the back porch steps when Popko finally responded.

Define 'interested'?

Well, that was a yes.

Groaning, Jackson slid his phone back into his pocket.

Several dings indicated Popko was probably expanding upon that not-yes, but Jackson had no patience for it.

Or, well, he just didn't want to know.

"Oh look, you've stopped avoiding me?" Ramona plopped onto the porch beside him. Her legs stretched out over the steps as she leaned back on her elbows.

To be honest, he'd just been so absorbed in his own head that he'd forgot to track her scent.

He wasn't going to tell her that though.

"Yeah," Jackson shrugged. He shifted, turning to face her partially. His fingers drummed on the wood beneath him.

Ramona looked at his hand, then at his face, "Something on your mind?"

He bit his lip.

He had absolutely no idea how to phrase what he was thinking.

"I like you."

That worked.

Ramona sat up as Jackson's face reddened. He looked away, eyes squeezing shut as she stared at him.

Why was he not more smooth?

Or like, poetic? Popko was poetic! Sort of... He could've at least run a script by-

"I like you too."

Jackson's eyes popped open. She was smiling at him. Ramona. Smiling. At him.

He had no idea what to do with that.

Narrowing his eyes, Jackson took a breath, "Just to be clear... I mean, like... like like."

Was his emphatic shoulder roll necessary?

Yes. Yes it was.

Ramona laughed, leaning forward so they were closer, "I know."

"Okay." Jackson cleared her throat. He pursed his lips. Eyes flicking over her face.

She was still smiling.

That was good.

"Are you maybe gonna kiss me now?" Ramona suggested, tilting her head.

"I could do that," Jackson grinned, leaning forward to do just that.

Her lips were soft. And when he brought his hand to her cheek, she shivered under his touch.

The back door banged closed.

They broke apart. Cheeks bright as they looked at who was standing there.

Max was standing there, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

"Hey~ Max-"

Jackson didn't get to finish what was obviously going to be a very smooth explanation for why his brother shouldn't start screaming.

"Finally!" Max shouted, hands flying into the air as he rolled his eyes. He turned back to the door, waving his hand at them, "Continue, I'll listen to my podcast in mom's closet for quiet instead."

Blinking at his brother's back, Jackson smiled. He glanced down at Ramona. She was laughing into his shoulder.

He could get use to that.

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