The Hookup Situation (Colorado Springs University #2)

Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

JACKSON

Shit. I never meant for it to go this far. I had no idea Preston would be as upset as he was. After all, I'm no one special. I’m not worth getting that upset over.

When I saw him come in the door I started to panic, and immediately found the person closest to me to start up a conversation with so it would look like I was enjoying myself, as opposed to what I was doing, sulking in the corner alone, thinking about the dozens of messages he’d sent me and telling myself I had done the right thing. That it didn’t matter if I was in love with him because he deserved better. And eventually he’d wake up and see that.

Unfortunately the guy I started talking to, Travis, took it as an invitation to put his hands all over me. And while I wasn’t a fan, I figured I could deal with it for an evening if it meant distracting myself and Preston leaving me alone. I never expected him to grab the guy after he got a little bit too friendly and shove him away.

The hurt on his face when I told him to lay off and that it wasn’t any of his business, was so real, and I’ve never seen him look so dejected.

When Travis rights himself after stumbling from the force of Preston’s shove, and makes his way back over to me, I brush him off and head for the door.

Preston is making his way down the stairs and outside by the time I get out there with my coat and shoes on.

I have no idea what I’m doing or why I’m even chasing him, but I couldn’t let him leave like that.

I feel the cold air biting at my face as soon as I step outside and spot him several feet in front of me, standing on the sidewalk, no doubt waiting for his ride to show up, since I’m sure he came with Chris.

I take a few more steps so that I’m closer to him as he shoves his hands in his pockets and ducks his head to keep the chill away.

“It’s better this way,” I say, and he turns. His cheeks are streaked with tears and my breath catches as he wipes them away.

“For who, Jackson?”

I swallow. Just being around him again is making my skin come alive with the need to touch him. I want my hands in his hair, my lips caressing his skin. I want to taste his sweat, and feel him come alive underneath me. It takes everything I have not to move closer. “For both of us.”

His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow as he stomps closer to me. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that this is what you want,” he almost shouts, his finger hitting me in the chest.

“I’m doing this for you!” I shout back, shoving him away.

“What?!” His pitch matches mine now. “Why the fuck would you think this is what I want?” Tears fill his eyes again. “I’m…I’m falling in love with you, Jackson, and instead of letting me you’re doing everything you can to push me away, and I just want to understand why.”

“Because I’m not good enough!” I roar, and tears fill my eyes now. “Because I have never been good enough. Not for the guys I slept with, not the guys I dated, not even for my fucking parents, who can’t even bother to pick up a goddamn phone to wish their son a happy birthday, or get on a fucking airplane to watch him perform in the show he’s dreamt of being in his entire life.

“I’m not the guy who gets the happily ever after, okay? I’m the fucking stand in. The guy the other guys fuck until someone better comes along! No one wants me!”

“I want you!” he bellows, stepping closer once again. “I’ve wanted you from the first goddamn day! I will always want you! There is no one else for me.” There’s a pause, and his voice is softer when he speaks again. “But I can’t make you trust me, and I can’t make you believe me. You have to decide to do that on your own.” He takes a breath.

“I understand that you’ve been hurt, Jackson, what I don’t understand is why I am being punished for something I didn’t do.” He’s close enough now that I can feel his breath ghosting over my face. My breath hitches when his cold hand rests on my cheek. “Let me love you, Jackson. Let me show you that I’m not those people.”

I swallow.

“I’m going home tomorrow, so if you’ve decided you want me, too, you know where to find me. I love you, and I promise to guard your heart if you can be brave enough to let me have it.” He kisses me and then gets in the uber that just pulled up and drives away.

When I get home that night I crawl into bed, feeling more confused and scared than I was three weeks ago.

My phone buzzes and I see it’s a text from Rory.

Rory: Hey, you okay?

I don’t respond.

I spend most of Saturday alone in my apartment after my roommates are gone. No matter what I do I can’t get Preston off my mind or his words out of my head. I want to believe him so badly, but I’m so fucking terrified.

I wrestle with my thoughts all day Sunday, too, until I find myself lying in bed, sobbing, my heart warring with the desire and love and utter need I feel for this man and yet wanting so desperately to protect itself at the same time.

He told me I was it for him. But will he still feel that way in a couple of months, or a year, or three, when I’m still struggling with so much self-doubt and insecurity, always needing reassurance that he’s not going anywhere, and that he loves me as much as I love him?

Rory texts me again on Sunday night as I’m curled up on the sofa after crying myself to sleep earlier and then waking up and having a very meager dinner. Neither of my friends knows I’m alone. My roommates don’t either since I told them I would be leaving after they did.

Rory: You okay? I’m worried about you. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to but I’m here if you need someone to talk to.

It takes me a moment to form a reply, but eventually I respond.

Me: Hey, babe. I know I’ve been acting weird lately, sorry. I honestly am not the best right now but I will be okay. I’m not ready to share yet, but I promise I will when I’ve figured things out more. Don’t worry about me. Have a good Christmas. Love you. Kissy face emoji.

Rory: love you too

Monday morning starts out okay. I go for a run to try and clear my head, then strip and step into the shower when I get home.

It’s while I’m showering that the tears come again, streaking my cheeks, my chest heaving. I sob until I’m shaking and gasping for air, my skin feeling tight and nausea settling in my stomach.

Shit. I’m having another panic attack, and this time I’m alone. I’m shaking even harder and my breaths are ragged as my heart rate skyrockets and I start to feel lightheaded. I sink to my knees in the shower, not wanting to fall over, and push open the glass door before I crawl out, soaking wet and trembling.

I grab my phone on the bathroom counter and speed dial as I lie down on the cold tile. It actually helps ground me a tiny bit as I wait.

It doesn’t take long before I hear, “Hey, babe, what’s up?”

I barely get the words out. “Luc?” I’m shaking so hard, gasping.

“Jackson? Honey what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I try to speak but it’s not working. “I….can’t…”

“Oh, god, babe, what’s wrong?”

“Panic….attack….” I manage.

“Oh, hon, you’re okay,” she tells me. “You’re okay. Listen, I'm on my way. I’m gonna keep you on the phone while I drive. Breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths, in and out. You got this.”

I hear a car starting and then she’s talking again. “Keep breathing. You’re safe. You’re okay. You got this.” She takes a few breaths with me and it helps me steady myself a little, my heart rate lowering and my trembling subsiding as she talks to me. “I want you to count backwards from fifty,” she tells me. “It can help to distract yourself.”

I start counting out loud, my breaths steadying as I do.

“Good,” she says. “I’m about an hour away, hon, but I won’t hang up.”

And she doesn’t. Not while I’m counting, not while I’m crying. I get up at one point, on shaky legs and make my way to Colby’s room after she encourages me to focus on things to ground myself using my senses, and I remember the sour patch kids. I grab a few from the bag on his nightstand and shove them in my mouth as I breathe, and wait.

I tell her I’m doing a little better, and I’m gonna lie down in bed while I wait for her. I put the phone down so I can slide into some silky black panties. But then I’m sobbing again because they make me think of Preston, and how enamoured he was every time he saw my panties on me. How he loved to touch me in them, how he loved me riding him while I wore them.

“Okay, I’m here,” Lucy tells me. Then a second later, “I’m coming inside. I’m gonna hang up now.”

A second later she’s in my room, climbing into the bed beside me, scooting close and taking me in her arms.

“Shhh,” she soothes as I sob on her chest. “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”

It takes a while for my tears to stop, and when they do I’m fucking exhausted. Lucy hands me a tissue and I wipe my nose, apologizing for getting bodily fluids on her shirt, which of course she waves off and squeezes me tighter.

“I’m gonna go make us some tea,” she tells me as she strokes my back. “And then you’re going to talk, okay?”

I nod, and she leaves. When she comes back I’m sitting up in bed, blowing my nose again and wiping my eyes. I know I must look like shit.

“Fuck, I just realized it’s the day before Christmas Eve. You should be with your family,” I sniffle.

“I’m with my family,” she says, and my heart squeezes as I almost start crying again. My chest heaves and she kisses my hair as she hands me my tea, and then takes her seat on the bed again, sitting criss-cross applesauce. “I told my parents I would be back tomorrow. But you needed me. I wasn’t going to leave you alone. I love you, Jax.” She rests a hand on my leg over top of the blankets.

I suddenly feel so shitty for not being honest with her from the beginning. For hiding everything about my parents and pretending I was okay for so long when I wasn’t. Because this is Lucy and she always has my back. I know that. I’m just still not used to people caring about me this much.

“Talk to me,” she says gently.

So I do. I tell her everything, starting with my parents, and how I feel like I’ve been invisible my entire life when it comes to them. How I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to be better, do better, so they’ll see me, love me, want me. How I’ve spent so much time alone, and how they were never there for the small or big moments in my life and how the holidays at home were anything but enjoyable.

“I lied about all of it,” I admit. “I don’t exactly know why. I think I didn’t want to burden you guys with my problems, and for a long time I didn’t feel like they even deserved to be problems. I didn’t want to come off as complaining when I had so much more than some other people do. I’ve got a fancy car and nice clothes, and my tuition is paid for, and my parents are covering the cost of my apartment, and I have money to spend on anything I want whenever I want, which a lot of college students don’t, and I don’t even have to work, and I don’t know. I dealt with so much guilt because I felt like I should be grateful, you know? But I wasn’t. Throwing money at me has always been their way of pretending they care, or making up for not being there. And it honestly pissed me off because it wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted them. But I learned pretty early on that telling them that didn’t go over well, so I stopped. Just accepted the gifts and money and pretended everything was okay.

“But I didn’t want pity. Hearing everyone else talking about their families and how excited they were to go home, I didn’t want to say I was dreading it, or that I wasn’t going home and I was staying here alone, because at least then I wasn’t expecting anything and getting let down. And maybe making up excuses for them not coming to my shows just seemed easier and less painful than accepting that they weren’t coming because they didn’t care.” I sniffle. “God, just saying that out loud hurts like hell.” I take a breath and let it out, wiping a few more tears from my eyes.

Lucy sets her tea down and scoots closer, wrapping her arms around me. “Okay, first of all,” she starts, “your parents better hope I don’t ever have the displeasure of meeting them because I would have some words, and maybe a few gestures for them.”

I laugh a little and she grins. “And second, you are always allowed to tell me or Rory about the shitty stuff in your life, Jax. That’s what we’re here for. It kills me that you’ve been dealing with this for so long and we didn’t know. You don’t have to pretend that things are okay when they’re not. We love you, and you can bet if we knew any of this earlier we’d have dragged you home with us for the holidays and we would have loved doing it. And, just because you had things, nice things, lots of money growing up, that doesn’t mean your emotional needs were met. You're allowed to be upset and hurt by that.”

“You know, between this and the panic attack, that psychology major of yours is really coming in handy today,” I say, and she grins and smacks me.

“Now, tell me about Preston. Because I’m guessing that all of this has to do with that.”

So I tell her that too, starting at the beginning. How I know people see me as a player, someone who just jumps from one guys’ bed to another, but then I tell her why. Why I don’t do relationships, why I don’t sleep with the same guy twice. Because I’ve been there, and done that, and had my heart broken too many times.

“When I was a junior in high school I was dating this guy, and I was falling in love with him after we’d been together for about four months. At least I thought I was. Who really knows when you’re seventeen if it’s love or not, but it certainly felt like it to me, and when I told him, he told me that he had been fucking another guy the entire time we’d been together, and that the two of them we going to be a couple. He was even so kind as to offer to let me join them in bed sometimes, like he hadn’t been cheating on me and just broken my heart. And seeing them around school after that for another year and a half was fucking awful, and I was humiliated because everyone knew except me that all of this was going on behind my back the entire time, and I was a fucking idiot, for thinking anyone could actually like me and want to be with me for something other than sex.” I sigh. “So, anyway, that was the first time. And I figured, that’s high school, you know? Kids are kids, I can’t never take a chance again because of that. So I put myself out there again freshman year of college, and I just had so many of the same experiences. I wasn’t dating because I’d sworn that off, but I was hooking up with the same guys several times, and I’d start to develop feelings for them, and they’d all tell me the same thing. “Look, you're just not the kind of guy I would date, or bring home, but you’re great in bed.” or “You’re gorgeous, and you’re a good lay, but that’s it. You’re not relationship material” or “You’re the kind of guy people fuck until they find someone to settle down with.”

“And I just didn’t know what it was about me that wasn’t good enough, but I’d heard the same message all my life from my parents, and then from my asshole boyfriend, and then the guys I was hooking up with, so I figured it must be true. I just wasn’t what people wanted long term. I was only good for sex.”

Lucy sighs and squeezes my arm as her head rests on my shoulder. “Oh, Jax, honey, I’m so sorry.”

I keep going. Somehow it feels really good to get it all out there. And I feel safe with Lucy. “So even though I wanted to belong to someone more than anything, and for them to belong to me, I figured it wasn’t in the cards, and if I wanted to keep from getting my heart broken over and over, I’d just have to never fuck the same guy twice, and so that’s what I did for two years.”

She looks at me. “Until Preston came along.”

I nod.

She gives a soft smile. “He didn’t play by the rules, did he?”

I chuckle slightly and shake my head. I tell her how we met, how I told him I didn’t do repeats, but he suckered me back time and time again. I tell her how fucking terrified I was the entire time, because I didn’t want to fall for him and end up getting hurt again, but couldn’t stay away. I tell her I couldn’t say anything to her or Rory because I knew it wouldn’t last and I couldn’t have them getting my hopes up.

“I’m so sorry,” I admit. “I’m so sorry for lying to you both and being deceptive and acting like a total dick.”

She kisses my cheek. “Do you love him?”

I nod.

“I thought I was alone in my feelings. I never expected him to…” I trail off.

“To love you back.”

Another tear trickles down my cheek and I nod. “Yeah. He said he did. But I don’t know if I can be enough for him, and I’m still scared shitless he’ll wake up and realize I’m not what he wants. That he’ll find someone better.”

“I know, babe,” she says. “And I understand why. All those voices in your head, it’s no wonder you doubt yourself. But you have so much more to offer than just your body, and he sees that, Jackson. He clearly loves you, too. He chased you for weeks, asking you to go places and do things with him, talking to you on the phone. He came to your show because he wanted to be there. He brought you soup when you were sick because he wanted to take care of you. He brought you home with him because he wanted you to be there. He wants you, babe. He wants you even though you fucking ghosted him for three weeks. If he wasn’t seriously in love with you he would have given up a long time ago. I know it’s scary, but I guess you just have to decide if he’s worth the risk or not. Maybe he will hurt you, I can’t promise he won’t. But maybe, he deserves a chance to show you how lovable you are.”