13. Georgia
Chapter thirteen
Georgia
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and adjust my pencil skirt. The fabric hugs my curves in all the right places, and I can’t help the small, satisfied smile that tugs at my lips. Too bad my outfit doesn’t complement the bags under my eyes.
I couldn’t even say how I managed to get back to my bedroom last night. My knees almost gave out three times, and I was in such a haze that I mistook the door to the linen closet for my bedroom. Even worse, I was no better off at finding sleep than before.
Shockingly, I woke up alone. At no point in the night had Noah snuck into my bed. While part of me is thankful, it doesn’t stop the guilt from swarming inside my chest. He’d been so adamant the nights before; I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed. Did he hear something? See something?
What I’m doing is wrong. If Noah finds out, he’s going to hate me. And he doesn’t deserve this. But the way Jackson’s hands felt inside me… the urge to want more is too intense to deny. I want him. In a bad, bad way. My nipples tighten through my thin blouse at the mere thought of having all of him. God, I shouldn’t even consider this, but lines have already been crossed. The real question is—does Jackson crave this as much as I do? If he does, is he willing to risk his relationship with his son to have it?
I know I’m playing with fire. We both are. But the harder I try to smother this fantasy, the more it ignites into something uncontrollable—a need that refuses to be ignored. It’s not like I’m looking for a relationship. I’m not that naive. This was only ever going to be a fleeting, forbidden affair, reckless and temporary.
In less than three months, I’ll be back at school, moving on with my life. Noah will be a memory, and so will his father.
What’s the harm in indulging a little before then?
When I enter the kitchen, Noah is slung over the island, typing on his phone.
“Morning.”
He barely lifts his head. “Morning.”
“You don’t look so hot,” I say, grabbing a mug.
“Fuckin’ hungover. Don’t make a big deal about it.”
“Wasn’t going to. Shouldn’t you be getting ready? We have to leave soon.”
“Not goin’ in.”
“What? You can’t just not go to work.”
He lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot. “Watch me.”
“Noah, how am I supposed to get to work? You can’t just—”
He pushes off his stool. “Take my car. Not a big deal. And what’s it to you? Dad’s not gonna fire me.”
“Well, he should—”
Noah steps into my personal space, his eyes blazing down at me. “Why don’t you stop worrying about what I do and focus on yourself? I’m not your problem anymore, remember?”
“I wasn’t saying—”
“Don’t say anything at all. Seems anytime you open your mouth, it causes a fight.” He leans in, the stale booze on his breath hitting my nostrils. “Butt the fuck out, George.” He pulls back and walks out of the kitchen, darting up the stairs.
I want to run after him, demand he explain what his problem is—especially since I thought we were fine after our talk yesterday. Instead, I gather my things and grab his keys off the counter, deciding this could be a good thing. I can talk to Jackson without worrying that Noah will catch us or question why I’m in his office. I head to work, making a beeline for Jackson’s office as soon as I get in.
“He’s in an offsite meeting,” his assistant states as I raise my hand to tap on his door. Great. There goes my whole plan of attack. I pause and face her.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Not sure. Would you like me to leave a message?”
“Can you tell him Georgia Price came to see him? I’m his—well… I’m—just Georgia. Thanks.”
God! I’m such a nitwit. I’m his… what? His freaking intern, nitwit . Ugh…
I go about my harrowing day, shadowing Jacob as he makes call after call. After he has me try a few, which I butcher, I fake a headache and skip lunch, unable to face the painful conversations. If I have to talk about my and Noah’s nonexistent relationship, I’m going to stab my eyes out. I’m tempted to blow his cover just to stop the torture. When Jacob gives me the okay to leave for the day, I walk down the long hall to Jackson’s office.
“Hi. Me again. Has Jack—Mr. Blake returned?”
“He has, but he’s in an important meeting.” I look over her shoulder at his closed door. “He asked not to be disturbed.”
“Oh, okay. Will you let him know I stopped—”
Laughter rings out, and I glance up as his door swings open, revealing Jackson accompanied by a stunning blonde. “I’ll never get enough of you, Jackson,” she says, her voice dripping with admiration.
“You’ll never have to.”
The blonde twirls around and presses her palms against his chest, showcasing her perfectly manicured nails. “Just what I wanted to hear. Thanks for the lunch. Looking forward to dessert.”
I stand frozen, unable to look away.
She twirls back, catching my gaze. So does Jackson. His eyes flick to mine, scanning my face, unreadable. Blank.
And just like that, I no longer exist.
Without hesitation, he shifts his focus to his assistant. “Cancel the rest of my meetings. I’m leaving for the day and won’t be back.”
The blonde loops her arm through his as they move past me, not sparing me another glance.
“Miss Price,” Jackson acknowledges coolly, his tone devoid of any personal emotion.
I watch them go, my stomach twisting into knots so tight I feel sick. God, how stupid am I? What did I think would happen between us? That I was different? That this meant something?
I bite the inside of my cheek, willing myself to keep it together, to swallow down the sting of rejection clawing its way up my throat. I should’ve known better.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Price?”
I shake my head, pushing down the disappointment, and plaster on a fake smile. “No. Nothing at all. Have a good night.”
“Noah?” I call out when I enter the house. The television blares from the media room, so I make my way there. “Hey,” I say, finding him slumped down on the couch, watching Sportscenter.
“S’up?” He leans forward and grabs the beer from the table. “How was work?”
I slump into the open seat next to him. “Awful.”
Noah chuckles, taking another swig of his beer. “That bad?”
“I mean, how can someone be so chipper to call a stranger only to be hung up on?”
“It takes a special breed to do that job.”
“Yeah, and I’m not it.” Noah laughs. He leans forward, grabs an unopened beer, and hands it to me. “Thanks. I see your day was better than mine.”
“Nah. Slept most of the day. It wasn’t curing my hangover, so I decided on plan B.” He raises his beer. “Chasing a hangover with more booze. Want in? The night is still young.”
“Why? So you can be hungover again tomorrow and not go to work?”
“Are you saying you missed me, George?”
“Nope.”
“Lies. Did my dad bitch to you about it?”
My smile falls. “I actually didn’t see him today. I don’t know if he even knows you played hooky.”
His demeanor shifts. I assumed a small part of his no-show was to get his dad’s attention—a plan that failed because his dad was too busy in an important meeting. “That frown isn’t a good look on you, Price. What do you say we go fix that?”
“What do you have in mind? I’m not having sex with you.”
He brings his hands over his heart. “You wound me, dear ex of mine. No sex. Just shots. Lots of shots.”
I wrinkle my nose but let it simmer for a moment. This is a terrible idea.
For one, unlike him, I actually have to show up for work in the morning. Second, mixing alcohol with Noah has never ended well. And if I want to stay true to my word, drowning my problems in liquor isn’t the answer.
“Oh, come on. Since when do you turn down shots? My dad has top-notch tequila. Best you’ve ever had. Comes with zero hangover.”
“That you’re going to get deducted out of your paycheck?”
Noah laughs and hops off the couch. “It will be money well spent. Up we go. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
And he doesn’t. He grabs my arm, and since I prefer it not to be dislocated, I get up and allow him to lead me through the house into the kitchen. “Sit. I’ll be right back.” He retreats down the hall while I climb onto a barstool at the island. When he returns, he’s carrying a bottle of tequila.
“You sure you’re not worried about making your dad mad?”
“Do you really care?”
After seeing Jackson with that woman today, no, I really fucking don’t. “Not at all.”
Noah’s always had a great smile. It spreads across his cheeks, reminding me of why I fell for him in the first place. He sets two shot glasses down and fills each to the rim. Picking one up and handing it to me, he says, “What should we cheers to?”
I raise my shot. “To the future. To surviving this god-awful internship and getting back to school in one piece.”
His lip curls into a bigger smile as he clinks his glass against mine. “I’ll cheers to that.” I tip my head back and let the liquid coat my throat. I wait for the burn, but it doesn’t come.
“Wow, this must be good tequila. My throat isn’t on fire.”
Noah chuckles and pours another round. “When it’s a seventy-five-hundred-dollar bottle of Patrón en Lalique, it better not—”
“Seventy-five hundred!” I practically choke the shot back up. “Noah, if he makes you pay for—”
“He won’t. Trust me. Let’s play a game.”
I raise a brow, unsure where he’s taking this. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Price. A question for a question. You can answer or take a shot.”
This may be worse than the sex approach. “Fuck it. Sure.”
“I’ll even let you go first.”
I ponder any pressing question I’ve ever wanted to ask him. Throughout our relationship, we’ve always been surface level. He knew the basics of my and my mom’s relationship. I knew he hated his dad, but our demons were kept secret.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Shut up. Okay, I’ve got one. Why did you choose Iowa?”
“You already know this—to piss off my dad.”
“I know, but why would it piss your dad off?”
“That’s technically two questions.”
I roll my eyes. “No, it’s not. Now, answer or take your shot.”
He rolls his shoulders. “Fine. He wanted me to attend a more prestigious school like Harvard or Yale. I have the grades. He made sure of it. But pleasing him was the last thing I wanted, so I found an out-of-state school I knew he would cringe at and applied.”
His answer shocks me. “Wait, you could’ve gotten into Harvard?”
“That’s technically three questions. Automatic drink.” Shit. I clink my glass with his, and, to be a good sport, he takes the shot with me. “Just because all I’ve done at school is party, doesn’t mean I don’t have the brains. I got into both.”
“Noah, that’s amazing. You should have gone, even if you wanted to defy your dad.”
“Nah. If I had, I wouldn’t have met you.”
I roll my eyes again. His chuckle is cute, but I ignore it. He refills our shots. “Okay, my turn. Why did you never report your stepdad for abuse?”
I flinch at his question. “I don’t want to talk about that,” I answer and take my shot.
His eyes crinkle at the edges. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just… I’ve always wondered. That fuckin’ prick should be in jail.”
He should be a lot of things—six feet under being one of them. “Do I get a retry?”
“No. My turn. What did your dad do to make you hate him so much?” A shadow looms over him before he grips his shot and slings it back. “Wow, we’re making really good progress with this game.”
Noah laughs. “Yeah, maybe let’s stick to simple shit, like what’s your favorite color.”
“Black.”
He nods. “Makes sense since that’s all you wear.”
“My turn. Favorite food?”
“Duh, you already know this. Tacos. Okay, this is lame. Drink just because we suck.” We both laugh into our shots and take down another round. “Kinda sucks we weren’t like this when we were dating.”
“How so?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Friends. Feels like we started in the bedroom and never left.”
“My GPA says I left plenty—”
“You know what I mean. We dated, but we never had this. This calm, peaceful part. We were always fucking or fighting.”
I watch him carefully, taking in this unfamiliar vulnerability, the raw honesty in his expression as I acknowledge what we were, what we weren’t, and what he wishes we could have been.
And I agree.
“That would’ve been nice,” I admit, my voice softer than I expected. Then, with a small smirk, I add, “I mean, the fucking after the fighting was nice, too.”
His lips curl into a smile, and I can’t help but mirror it. “I think the tequila is starting to kick in. Maybe it’s time we stop.”
“Do you regret us? I know I was a dick, but… the good times…?”
I hate the sadness in his voice—the worry that what we had was never real. “Not a single moment.”
A partial smile returns. A bell rings throughout the house, notifying us the front door has been disabled. “Looks like the party’s over,” he says as Jackson and the mystery blonde enter the kitchen. Jealousy rages through me, and I can’t help but stare at how close she stands next to him. They seem cozy. Too cozy. He took me to a level of ecstasy I’ve never experienced, only to move on to the next best thing.
“What do we have here?” Jackson asks, his eyes roaming from Noah to me before fixating on the bottle of tequila.
“Happy hour. Wanna join?”
Jackson’s jaw tightens. “I thought we discussed this.”
“Oh, we did? Sorry. I must’ve missed it.” Noah looks my way and winks. I can’t help but giggle. Shit, that tequila works fast.
“You two are done.”
Just like that, my good mood sours, twisting into something harsh and angry. How dare he? He brings her here, parades her in front of me, then has the audacity to treat me like a child, like he has that kind of power over me?
Resentment surges through me.
I push up from my chair and stride toward Noah, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him toward me. He stumbles, caught off guard, his eyes wide with surprise. Before I can second-guess it, I press my lips to his. He freezes, tensing against me. I know I’ll regret this later. But right now, I don’t care.
I pull back enough to meet his stunned gaze, my voice dripping with defiance. “Let’s leave the grown-ups alone and go up to your room.”
Noah’s eyes sparkle with glee. “Yeah. Fuck yeah.” I don’t bother to look at Jackson as I snatch Noah’s hand and drag him up the stairs. As soon as we get to his room, I push him inside. He grabs the back of my neck, crushing his lips to mine in a kiss not meant to happen. He lifts me and drops me on top of his bed, his body covering mine. “Fuck, George,” he growls, kissing down my neck. Warning sirens blare in my mind, screaming this is a bad fucking idea. Hurt or not, this is going to confuse Noah. I try to ignore them, but when he slides his hand inside my skirt and slips between my legs, images from last night rush through my mind.
“Stop, Noah. I can’t.”
“What? Why?” He continues leaving kiss after kiss down my neck. He tugs at my shirt, wrapping his mouth around my covered nipple. “Missed this, babe.” His finger slides into my sex, but his hands don’t feel right. It’s not him . My heart pounds. I can’t breathe.
“Noah, please. We shouldn’t be doing this. Stop.” He pauses, releasing my nipple, then raises his head, taking in the seriousness in my gaze. “I’m sorry. I thought—we can’t.”
He stills for a second, then nods and climbs off me. “Fuck,” he grunts, adjusting his hard-on.
We’re both silent for a moment. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Figured it was too good to be true.”
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just… not in my right mind.”
“Honestly, George. It’s fine. I get it. Let’s just blame it on the tequila and never speak of it again, cool?” He rolls to his side, and I do the same. Disappointment flickers in his eyes, but he quickly masks it with a soft smile. “Honestly, it wasn’t doing anything for me anyway.”
I chuckle and smack his shoulder. “Shut it. But thank you.”
“Yeah…” He stares at me for a beat. “Now, you owe me. Movie and a sleepover?”
“Noah—”
“No touching. Innocent movie. I just… sleep when I’m with you.” Why? I want to ask, but there’s a plea in his eyes that tells me not to push.
“Fine. But I get to pick the movie.”
“Deal.”