A/N: Okay, I know I say this every time, but really, THANKS so much for the reviews! These ones especially made me so happy that I wanted to do an Irish jig hehe. Oh, I made some minor changes to chapter 3, because in such a pivotal moment, I had done very little describing. Not good! Anyway, I really like this chapter (pats 17 year-old self on the back) and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter too:D

His & Her Circumstances

Chapter 6

Friday evening has finally arrived and I lay in my bed practicing excuses in my head. I never bought a dress. I just couldn't. And so here I lay, never even bothering to change into my comfy clothes and watching my ceiling as "Paint It Black" blares through the stereo.

I tell myself that I'm not going because it would be giving in to Jackson, which of course I can never let him win so easily. But I would be lying to myself if that was the only reason for not going to the dance.

I am afraid.

All of a sudden, I can't bring myself to hate Jackson anymore. Instead, it's quite the opposite, and that scares me. If I were to go to this dance, who knows what I'll do. I realize that I'm not as in control of myself as I imagined myself to be. Just thinking of his arms around me as a slow song plays in the background immediately makes me feel lightheaded. And so, to make sure I don't take that extra step involuntarily (I can't even admit to myself what that extra step is), I will have to somehow release myself from Jackson's grip. I don't know exactly how yet, but refusing to go to the dance is a start.

The doorbell suddenly rings and my heart jumps out of my chest. I almost want to go under the covers to hide. But instead I freeze and wait for the dreaded call of my parents.

It is my father's voice that comes bellowing up the staircase. "Lisa! You've got a boy down here for you!"

My first response is to ignore him, but it soon occurs to me that my father is with Jackson, and such a meeting can never lead to anything good. I roll off my bed and rush down the stairs.

"Leave us be!" I order my dad is I push him into the kitchen.

"Now, now Lisa," he says as he stops in front of the fridge. "It is my duty as a father to ask him the twenty questions."

"It's nothing!" I say in a harsh whisper. "He's just dropping off some homework, that's all!"

"Then what's up with the suit?"

"He's going to the dance afterwards, I'm not!"

"But why aren't—"

"Dad!"

He finally surrenders. "Alright, alright. I'll be upstairs." He decides he needs a snack and takes a Twinkie out from the cupboard before finally retreating up the stairs.

I let out a sigh of relief and go back into the living room. Jackson had taken the initiative to let himself in and is seated at the couch. Once he spots me his facial features scrunch into a grimace.

"That can't be what you're wearing."

I place my hands on my hips. "Well I've got news for you, I'm not going."

He rises at this statement, and I can't help but gape at him as I get the full view of his suit. There is something irresistible about a man in a suit, I realize. Perhaps it's the way a suit fully takes advantage of a man's form, showcasing his strong shoulders and a lean waist. The black of the fabric also makes the blue in Jackson's eyes stand out more than ever before, and with the steel dress shirt underneath without the distraction of a tie, Jackson really does look sharp.

"Like what you see?"

Disgust becomes the most dominant feeling within me and I am finally able to breathe again. I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Don't flatter yourself!"

He grabs my hand and heads for the stairs, to which I protest by grabbing the banister.

"What do you think you're doing!"

"Getting you into appropriate clothes."

Who does he think he is, a king? He waltzes around my house as if he owns the place. "I don't have any fancy dresses!"

This shocks him. His hand goes limp and my hand is free. "Not even an Easter dress?"

I shake my head, although I do have a few old dresses in the back of my closet. He doesn't need to know that though.

He puts a finger to his chin as he contemplates this. "Well, I guess we have no choice then." He takes my hand again, this time heading for the door. "We're just gonna have to make a quick stop at Macy's."

Before I can respond appropriately we are out the door, and I am being shoved into the front seat of a silver Lexus. The only thing I can spurt out is a "You have a car?" 'And a nice one at that.'

I see a flash of white teeth as he grins and my eyes follow him through the windshield as he walks around the hood of his car and hops into the front seat. "I will once I get my license."

"You don't have a license? How the hell are you driving, then? I can't be in the car with you, this is illegal!" I attempt to pull the handle to get out, but Jackson quickly presses the button that locks the doors. This only stops me for a second before I try pulling the lock. His response to this is to lean over and push me back with his forearm against my collarbone as his other hand works at buckling me in.

"Calm down, will you? I'm not going to get caught. And I know how to drive. I have a permit."

I don't want to try his patience any longer. I surrender and stare out the window.

He resituates himself in the driver's seat and I hear the snap of his seat buckle and the slam of the door. The engine starts and I watch the moving yard as he backs out into the street. "Don't worry about the money. I'll pay for the dress," he says.

"You better pay for it." I cross my arms and stare ahead. 'No way I'm wasting money on a dress I'll only wear once!'

At the corner of my eye I can see Jackson turning to me, smiling. I hate it when he smiles like that. 'Stop it!' It's better if he just smirks. It makes it easier for me to hate him. Suddenly it becomes unbearably stuffy in the car and so I decide to open the window. The breeze is heavenly. I stick out my head and let my auburn locks tickle my face as I watch a blend of colors whir by under an indigo blue sky.

Once we get to Macy's, I am ordered to lead the way to the junior dresses. Dresses of every color and style hang on the racks around me and I don't know where to begin. But it doesn't matter, for Jackson is already picking out dresses and laying them over his arm. He chooses four dresses and brings me into the dressing room.

"Put these on," he says as he hands me them. "Don't forget to let me see how they look on you. I'll be sitting on this bench."

I nod and go into the closest stall, hanging the dresses on one of the many hooks provided. As I flip through them, I am satisfied that they all are decent. I was half expecting Jackson to choose the skimpiest of dresses just so that he can get a good laugh. Instead, I find that I don't really dislike any of them. I grab the baby blue one and toss it on the bench as I take off my shirt and pants.

The dress has an underskirt of white tool, which crinkles at my stomach and makes me itch. I quickly pull it down and inspect the dress in the mirror. Usually I scoff at girlie girls. But now, as I turn in the mirror, I can find the appeal of wearing such frilly pieces. I feel like a princess. My brawny shoulders suddenly look delicate with the curve of the strapless dress, a large pink bow wrapped around my waist. I pick up the sides of my skirt and curtsy.

"You done yet?" says an impatient Jackson. "Come out already!"

I totally forgot he was here! All of the sudden my stomach twists in my worry of presenting myself to him. Why am I so antsy! I pat down my skirt and open the latch.

Jackson chuckles once I come out. This is not the reaction I was hoping for.

"Hey, you chose it!"

"God knows why," he replies. "The color doesn't suit you at all." He motions me away with his hand. "Next one!"

I grumble in discontent as I return to the stall. I don't know why I feel so disappointed. Maybe it's because his disapproval makes it seem like he's better than me? Yes, that must be it. I throw the baby blue dress aside and slip into the next one.

I find that I don't like this dress as much as the other one. Because it's constructed out of a silver satin, it certainly is more sophisticated, but I find the large off-the-shoulder straps distracting, and with the flared skirt, the dress is just too much. Nonetheless, I present myself to Jackson anyway.

His response is a slap on the knee as he bursts out into laughter. He doesn't need to say a word, I am already retreating, hoping that my face is not as red as it feels. I slam the door in my embarrassment, wishing more than ever there was an escape route. Is this some form of revenge for me turning him down? I swear he is torturing me on purpose!

To my utter relief, the next dress is rather nice. Actually, I love it. The entire dress is wrapped in violet chiffon, with a satin ribbon of darker shade at the waist to separate the sweetheart neck top from a skirt that falls just above my knees. I twirl, admiring the way the dress unfurls like the petals of a flower. If he really doesn't like this dress, then he is obviously toying with me. I give myself one more look over before finally going out.

I saw it. It was a quick window into his thoughts, but I saw it as clear as day. It was almost as if time slowed, with his lips parting ever so slightly, the pupils of his eyes shrinking as a deep azure flooded over his icy irises. But as soon as the air passes his lips the expression is swept away, leaving behind his usual unreadable face. He rises from the bench and circles around me, his hands clasped behind his back.

"This will do."

I smile, knowing that he likes it more than his words imply. I can't help but feel magnificent now. But the feeling is only temporary as he inspects my face.

"Now we just need a face to match that pretty dress."

My immediate reaction is to take a swipe at him, but he quickly grabs my forearm, his cocky grin sneaking its way across his lips.

"Come on, let's pay for the dress."

"You mean you'll pay for the dress."

He laughs as his hand slips down to my wrist. He takes me into the stall, and I suddenly feel unsafe and attempt to shake away from his grip, but such a worry quickly subsides as he hands me my clothes and grabs the dresses off the floor. Thankfully my bra is buried between my skirt and blouse.

"Don't I need to change back?"

"No, we'll just have the cashier scan your tag." He tosses the dresses into the basket under the return rack and we exit the dressing room, making our way to the cash register, which is conveniently just outside the door. Jackson finally lets go of my wrist as he takes out his wallet.

He pulls at my tag. "Can you scan this?"

"Yeah sure." The girl stretches the barcode reader and with a beep my dress is ready to be paid for. "81.90," she says.

I tug Jackson's shirt and he leans in towards me. "It's too much," I say. "Why don't I just get something out of the clearance rack."

"I got this," he says, and before I can say more, I am stopped by a warning glare. He takes out his credit card and hands it to the cashier.

"Thank you for shopping with us!" she says as she hands him the receipt and a plastic bag for my clothes. His thanks is shown through a smile and we walk away. But it isn't in the direction towards the exit.

"Where are you going, the car is this way."

"We're not done yet," he answers as he tears the tag off my dress. Ahead of us is a maze of cosmetics booths and I immediately realize his intentions. He pulls me into the chair in front of the Lancôme table and the lady who was previously flipping through an Avon catalogue flits over to us with clear delight written on her face.

"How may I help you today?"

"She needs some eye shadow to match this dress."

"Well I have the perfect palette for her!" She bounces to the inner section of the booth and pulls out a box of eye shadow. "This will complement her dress and make her eyes stand out beautifully," she says once she returns.

Jackson takes the box and inspects it. "Can we see how it looks?"

"Of course, of course!" She claps her hands in excitement and grabs the sample, as well as a stick of eyeliner and some mascara. With a brush in her hand, she starts to apply the makeup on me. She begins by lining my eyes in black, and then snaps open the eye shadow set, starting with the lighter shades and then working the deep purple into the edge of my eye. She tops the entire look off with mascara. "How do you like it?" she asks as she hands me the mirror.

Are my eyes really that green? I pull the mirror closer to my face to make sure I'm not seeing things. But to my pleasant surprise the pretty girl staring back is indeed me, and I can't help but smile. I never felt so beautiful. I look at Jackson and to my delight he too is smiling.

"It looks good," he says to her. "What kind of shade of lipstick do you think works best with her eyes?"

She pulls out a pinkish peach shade and slides it along my lips. Taking a step back, she takes a second to marvel at her work before looking to Jackson for approval.

"I like what I see. But we'll just take the eye shadow."

Her smile doesn't falter, for she is pleased that she actually made a sale. Jackson hands her the box of eye shadow and she goes to the cash register to ring it up. Saying a genuine thank you, she hands Jackson the bag of makeup. After a hasty decision on the proper heels to buy at the shoe department, we are finally on our way to the dance.

"I feel like Cinderella," I think out loud. I really wish I hadn't said that and nervously watch the mannequins come closer into view.

There are a few moments of silence that passes between us. I am too embarrassed to look at him, and so I only listen to his footsteps to make sure he is still by my side. Finally he says, "Life ain't fairytales, Leese."

'What kind of response is that?' My feet stop and I turn to him. "I know it isn't! I just meant you're like my fairy godmother! You know, that old white-haired woman with a wand? You think I meant you were my Prince Charming? Hah! Keep dreaming!" I almost want to clasp my mouth shut with my hands. Instead, I stand my ground and do my best to keep a stern face.

Jackson's eyes, first wide in shock, quickly narrows as his jaw tightens, a thin hint of white showing between his lips. "Fairy godmother?" He comes closer, his figure looming over me. I can't help but back away. "You think I'm your fairy godmother?" I can no longer go back any further, for a rack of clothes blocks my way. I am in a sea of pink and white sweaters. Jackson has me where he wants me. His hands lock onto the metal bars of the rack and I am trapped between his arms. "Would a fairy godmother do this?" he growls. He leans closer until there is only a slither of air between our faces. I can feel his warm breath brush against my lips, soaked in mint from the double mint gum he chewed earlier.

"St—stop…"

He ignores me, and continues leaning in. I can no longer bear to look, and so I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that my overworked heart won't cause me to faint. I can feel a slight brush against my lips, but the sensation quickly terminates, and I can no longer feel his body heat radiating against me. I gather the courage to open my eyes. What I find is a snickering Jackson, his arms crossed with the smuggest look I've ever seen scrawled across his face.

"You're so cute," he mocks.

I can almost hear the whistling of a tea kettle ring through my brain—the pitch getting higher and higher until I am boiling over, my fists clenched and my teeth grinding against another. I slam my foot into his shin, and he's jumping up and down with his hands clasping his knee.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" he yelps. A lady with a child passes by and gives him a warning look, and he whispers an apology to her.

Is it bad to be as satisfied as I am right now because of his pain? I smile in delight and walk to the exit. I don't get far before he is grabbing my shoulder and swinging me in front of him.

"I will give you that one," he tells me. He is still wincing from the pain. "But don't you dare try something like that again."

I almost want to do it once more to test his warning, but I decide he has suffered enough for one day. Not bothering to respond, I turn away and with him at my side, we go out the door, the stars winking back at us under a blackened sky.