Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Landon
I fucked up.
That plays over and over in my head. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I fucked up. I crossed a line and now everything is going to be awkward as fuck.
Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why’d I have to push things and tell Jett how amazing he is? Nothing I said was a lie, but still, I could tell he has problems accepting compliments but I just had to push my luck.
I toss and turn on the couch throughout most of the night. My thoughts are a war between thinking about Jett’s smile and the way he looked upset as he ran away to his bedroom. I never want to make him look like that again. I never want to push or make him uncomfortable.
I have all these feelings welling up inside of me when it comes to this man.
It’s hard to get a handle on what I’m feeling.
I’ve only known him for a day but somehow it feels like I’ve known him for a lifetime.
Already, it’s hard for me to think about going back home because it’ll mean not being in Jett’s space.
Eventually, exhaustion gets the better of me and I find sleep.
The sound of a plate being set down on the coffee table and the scent of fresh coffee wakes me from my slumber. I turn around, blinking slowly at the scene in front of me, trying to understand.
Jett is standing by the coffee table, looking down at me sheepishly. There’s a steaming cup of coffee beside a plate of breakfast. It looks like he’s made me bacon, eggs, and toast this morning.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say, my voice sounding rough from just waking up. I look up at him in confusion. “I crossed a line last night. You don’t have to keep being so nice.”
Jett shakes his head. He squats down so we’re on an even level. “It was me who screwed up. Your words were not unwelcome. I just needed a moment to clear my head and understand what I was feeling. I’m sorry if me needing space hurt your feelings. It was me with the problem, not you.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? I promise I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am that you’re letting me be here.”
“I’m okay,” he says. Then he reaches his hand forward and pets my cheek. He stares down at his hand, like he can barely believe he just did that. Hell, I can’t believe he just did that.
Warmth surges through me, starting at my cheek and stretching outwards through my body. Tingles descend along with the warmth. I wish he could touch me all the time. I wish he would touch me everywhere.
Jett quickly stands back up and heads back into the kitchen, probably getting his own breakfast plate. I sit up and stretch my arms over my head. Despite such a terrible night of sleep, I feel refreshed. I have a feeling that small touch was exactly what my brain needed to feel like this.
While Jett gets his plate, I run to the bathroom to freshen up.
When I sit back down, I grab the coffee he’s brought me.
I take a sip of the coffee and let out a soft sigh.
Jett’s scent hits me all over again this morning and my head swims. How can someone’s scent be so delightful?
How can it make me feel awake and alive?
Everything inside of me is screaming that Jett is special but I can’t put my finger on why.
My human brain cannot keep up with all of these feelings.
My wolf brain is barking at me to get my scent wrapped around Jett so no one else can try to stake a claim.
These animalistic urges slap me square in the chest. I want Jett.
I want him covered in my scent, my marks.
I want to bear his marks across my neck.
It’s more than that though. I want him to take my compliments to heart.
I want to shower him in praise until he understands how wonderful he is.
I want to know every corner of his heart until I know everything there is to know about Jett.
I want to know his greatest desires and help him achieve them. I want to be his biggest cheerleader.
Fuck, I want it all.
But isn’t that wildly quick? I’ve known him for a day and I’m acting like I want to mate the man.
Surely, that’s too quick for this, right?
My parents were mated as soon as they were old enough but they’d known each other for years before that!
I’ve heard of true mates, but is that what this is?
Are my feelings coming on so strongly because our maker designed the two of us with each other in mind?
This is all so confusing.
When Jett returns, he has his own plate and cup of coffee. I give him a small smile as he sits on the ground across from me. Everything smells so good, especially because I get a fresh whiff of Jett’s scent as he walks into the room.
“How is everything?”
I playfully roll my eyes. “You know it’s delicious. You’re a great cook.”
He gives me a soft smile. “It is still nice to hear.”
“I’m happy to compliment you anytime you’d like. I’m a simple servant at your beck and call.”
“You’re laying it on a little thick,” he says with a chuckle that leaves sparks flickering inside my stomach.
We eat, chatting back and forth about nothing important, mostly the snowstorm that seems to finally have slowed down. The snow looks to be at least waist deep out there. It’ll be a hassle to get the door open, but at least it’s finally slowed down a little.
Now that the snow has almost come to a stop, it’s only a matter of time before I need to make my way back home. The idea of leaving Jett’s home leaves my stomach sinking into my feet. I don’t want to leave.
Once we’re done eating, Jett takes our dishes into the kitchen while I head back to the bathroom. My clothes from yesterday are dry and waiting for me on the counter.
I take a quick, hot shower before getting out and getting dressed. Part of me thought about jerking off in the shower to help relieve some of this tension I’m feeling but I thought better of it. The last thing I need is Jett smelling that when he comes into the bathroom later.
I put my clothes back on, frowning at my reflection. I already miss being in Jett’s clothes. I miss being surrounded by his scent. Picking up his hoodie, I slide it back on, feeling much better.
I do my best to get my hair away from my face but without my usual hair products and blow dryer, I don’t think I’ll be able to properly style it.
Jett has some hair gel but he’s got really short hair.
The most he does is style his bangs up where I have to tame this mop!
Instead, I get it to sweep across my forehead and tucked behind my right ear. That’ll have to do.
After cleaning my glasses and getting them back on my face, I walk back into the living room.
Jett looks at me, surprise on his features.
For a moment, I think about taking the hoodie off and apologizing but that look of surprise quickly morphs into a soft smile.
I like being in his clothes and that smile tells me, just maybe, he likes me in his clothes too.
I try not to let myself read into anything. Just because he smiled doesn’t mean anything. I’m going to get myself into trouble if I assume Jett might be feeling this charged energy the same way that I am. For all I know, he’s just being nice.
No, I’m going to keep myself in check. Jett is the one in charge. I can subtly show that I’m interested. I can subtly show him that I’m experiencing off the chart feelings for him, but it’s up to him to make a move. I won’t put him in a bad situation, especially as I can’t physically leave yet.
Jett takes a shower and changes into some clean clothes. He’s wearing short sleeves today, giving me an eyeful of his tattoos. They’re so gorgeous and mesmerizing.
I remember that day at the river, seeing him naked. His tattoos are like black wispy, windy lines, surrounding his body, swirling around his skin. There are flowers and leaves and Japanese words intermixed in the ink, further reminding me of the movement of wind. They’re beautiful.
His fingers have intricate designs on them as well. Lines and shapes and words that I don’t understand. His body is a canvas that I would gladly stare at for hours. I want to trace every black line with my fingers, with my tongue.
Once Jett’s all done, he joins me on the couch, sitting on the opposite end from me and pulling me out of my daydream about his body. I flush and look away, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“So,” he says, sounding nervous.
“What’s up?”
“When I was a kid, my siblings and I used to play truth or dare to pass the time. Do you want to play?” His cheeks flame and he quickly looks away. “Unless that’s childish.”
“I would love to play,” I say right away, reassuring him. “Did you guys have any special rules?”
He nods his head. “You could only dodge a question if you successfully completed some sort of silly challenge. You could only skip a dare if you confessed a secret the others didn’t know.
There was never a winner or anything like that, but it was fun.
We never did anything too outlandish because our parents would have punished us if we got too out of hand. ”
“I can handle those rules,” I say, pulling my legs onto the couch and readjusting to sit pretzel style. “I once played truth or dare with my middle school basketball team. They dared me to put my hand in the toilet but I misheard and thought they said head. So I gave myself a swirlie.”
“Eww,” Jett says, wrinkling his nose. The sight makes me giggle, affection surging through me. Jesus, I have got it bad for this guy.
“That was one of the more mild things we’d get into. Teenage boys all trapped in a hotel room together is a disaster just waiting to happen.”
“I promise no swirlies,” he assures me with a grin. “Okay. Landon, truth or dare.”
“We’ll start easy. Truth.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
I was expecting something wild or something deep. Instead, Jett has thrown me an easy question. “That’s what you want to know? Out of everything in the world?”