Chapter 16
NOW
June
On Sunday morning, I drove out to a bookstore to pick out some summer reads.
Then I went to the mall and walked around for hours, letting myself buy some new clothes since I still hadn’t attempted to clean my old bedroom, or even stepped inside it.
I had been sleeping on the couch, instead.
I also bought some more cleaning supplies for the bathroom, which was next on my list to tackle.
The next day, I Facetimed Mia again before starting in on the bathroom. She had just gotten an expander put on the roof on her mouth that Wren had to turn with a key every night. She had her head tilted back, trying to get a good view of it for me.
“Wow, that’s a lot of metal,” I told Mia.
She nodded her head so dramatically I was sure it would roll right off her neck. “Right! Did you ever have orthodontics?”
“Nope, couldn’t afford it. How are my teeth, anyways?” I smiled brightly into the camera, fluttering my lashes as I did. I never had braces, but I lucked out and had straight teeth anyways.
Mia giggled. “You’re so lucky! I keep scratching my tongue on this thing.”
The phone moved, and suddenly Wren was on the screen, telling Mia to go brush her teeth. They went back and forth for a little until Mia finally agreed and stomped off.
“So, how’s it going there Miss Fixer-Upper?” Wren asked me.
“Jackson and I finished the basement, so that makes me feel better. I’m about to tackle the bathroom next.
” I was perched on the sink, both of my feet dangling off.
I moved the phone around to give her a full three-sixty view.
“These rust stains are going to suck so bad. My biceps will be huge by the time I’m done with it. ”
“How are things with Jackson?” Wren gave me a waggle of her eyebrows.
“Still engaged.”
She laughed at me and I sighed. “It’s complicated. My head keeps telling me to be mad at him over everything that happened between us, but another part is just really attracted to him still.”
“I don’t blame you. The boy is handsome.”
“It’s so annoying, right? He’s absolutely gorgeous.” I frowned, missing how easy it was to talk to Wren. “I already miss you guys again. Two weeks, and I promise I’ll be back. I want to finish this stuff ASAP.”
Wren pulled in her lips to hide a laugh and pointed like there was something behind me. I raised my eyebrow before turning around and letting out an ear-piercing scream, my phone falling to the floor.
Jackson was in the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed and smirking at me. Why the hell didn’t I lock the front door!?
I scrambled to pick my phone up off the floor. “Gotta go, Wren. Love you, bye.” I shoved my phone in my back pocket and whipped around. How much of that conversation did he hear? I could tell my cheeks were red from how hot my face felt.
“What the fuck, Jackson?”
He was trying not to laugh, and failing miserably. I wanted to smack the smirk right off his face. “I texted you that I was coming over.”
“I was Facetiming Wren and Mia, I didn’t see it.” I pulled my phone back out my pocket. Sure enough, Jackson sent me a message fifteen minutes ago.
“So, you think I’m absolutely gorgeous?” Jackson asked as he cocked his head to the side with a smug look on his face.
“Can you just shut up, actually?” I covered my cheeks with my hands. I hated him. “We’re working on the bathroom today. Make yourself useful and start cleaning the tub.” I threw the rust remover into his hands, and a wand brush directly at his chest.
He laughed at me again. I swear the guy got off on getting me flustered.
I picked some songs for a playlist, starting with Royel Otis’s cover of “Linger” before handing my phone to Jackson.
“She Calls Me Back” by Noah Kahan started to play, and I rolled my eyes at the smirk Jackson gave me. He was so irritating.
***
I scrubbed the toilet for almost an hour while Jackson worked on the tub.
The stains were awful, and my back was starting to ache.
I had probably sprayed rust remover fifty times, and we were both so focused we hadn’t talked.
“Heat Waves” by Glass Animals was just finishing the last verse when I paused my scrubbing to watch Jackson.
He was on his knees in the tub while he scrubbed around the drain.
There was sweat on his hairline, and I watched as it trickled down the side of his temple and dripped into the tub.
His lips were parted as he focused on the task, his biceps straining as he scrubbed back and forth.
I started to picture myself under him, his body moving back and forth in the same way, our bodies connected, him looking into my eyes with that same concentration.
A shiver ran through me. I was probably just getting high from all the fumes in this small bathroom.
I tried to get a view of the tattoos on his arm instead to refocus my attention away from the dirty thoughts. “So, what are all the tattoos?”
He looked up at me and sat on the edge of the tub, setting down the brush. I closed the toilet seat and sat on it as he held out his arm.
“Well, you know Delvecchio.” He ran a finger across his last name, written in black ink across his right forearm. I went with him when he got it on his eighteenth birthday.
He bent his arm to point at the back of his bicep.
“A cannoli, obviously, for Jules.” I laughed.
While I could only take one bite of cannoli, Julie could easily eat ten in one sitting.
He moved to the inside of his bicep, where the outline of Italy sat.
“This one was for Mom and Dad, because of our heritage.”
There was a drumstick, too, and next to it, a broken wine bottle. I stared at him, waiting for him to explain the broken bottle.
He ran a thumb over the wine bottle. “This is to remind me of the mistakes I’ve made while drinking.”
I chewed on the inside of my lip. I had been there for plenty of those mistakes. He cleared his throat and flipped his arm to show the inside of his forearm. “And, of course, a piece of pizza.”
I laughed when I saw it, shaking my head. “No way.”
He looked up at me with that ridiculously cute smile, a question in his eye. And, of course, a piece of pizza. He said it so easily, like I should know why.
It couldn’t be, though. Right? It couldn’t be because of me. That would be crazy to assume. So instead of questioning him, I said something else.
“I actually have a tattoo that looks just like it.”
“Nuh-uh,” Jackson said, his mouth hanging open. “You said you would never get a tattoo.”
I laughed and shrugged. “My twenty-first birthday. I was feeling silly.”
Jackson laughed at me. “Show me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to. It’s not good.”
Jackson let out another laugh, “So you don’t just have a tattoo, but you have a bad tattoo.” His eyes started to roam my body. I was wearing denim cut-offs and a short-sleeve Columbia T-shirt, but he wouldn’t be able to see it, no matter how hard he looked.
“Seriously, it’s awful. I went to some sketchy shop and the guy did a terrible job. The lines are wonky, and it scarred my skin, so the ink is raised—it never set,” I said as I crossed my arms.
“That all just makes me want to see it more! Come on, how bad can a slice of pizza be?” Jackson asked.
“You’d be surprised,” I mumbled. The poor quality of the tattoo wasn’t the only reason I didn’t want to show him. It was also because we both had the same tattoo—for most likely the same reason.
He returned his gaze to mine, and those big brown eyes pulled me in. They were like drops of chocolate that I couldn’t say no to. I rolled my eyes and finally stood up, lifting my shirt to show him the left side of my ribs.
He leaned forward from his spot on the side of the tub, his face level with my rib cage to inspect the botched outline of black ink.
I watched him as he lifted his right hand to place on my side, rubbing the raised ink with his thumb.
The tip of his finger briefly passed over the band of my bra, and I shut my eyes.
His hand felt so good—warm and tentative across my sweaty skin. I let myself enjoy it for a moment, imagining him pressing his lips to the spot, dragging them down my side, and stopping at my waistband. Unbuttoning my shorts, and . . .
I was definitely high off the fumes in the bathroom. My eyes shot open and I smacked his hand away in a flash. “No touching,” I said before leaving the bathroom and slamming the door shut with him inside. I ran outside to get some air.
I was down the block before I stopped running. I was breathing heavily, and I pulled my hair up into a ponytail. How could one small touch do so much to me? I didn’t need this. I shouldn’t want this. He’s engaged for christ’s sake!
The memory of running down this street ten years ago flashed through my mind, and I had to put a hand to my chest and breathe deeply to avoid the panic attack I could feel rising up.
It was too much—the coincidental matching tattoos paired with the thought of the last time I was here was fucking with my head. I had to get it together.
I walked up and down the block for a while before finally feeling like I could go back inside. Jackson never came to find me, and I was glad. I needed to clear my head and put it back on straight.
When I got back to the house, Jackson wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen. I walked down the hallway, and the bathroom door was still closed. I could hear music coming from his phone, and I opened the door without knocking. He apparently didn’t care to knock, so why should I?
I regretted not knocking immediately, because Jackson was standing in the tub, cleaning the tiles .
. . without a shirt on. His back muscles flexed as he cleaned a spot above his head.
Every inch of skin was glistening with sweat.
“I Can See You” by Taylor Swift was playing on his phone, and man did I want to strangle him—and straddle him at the same time.
I cleared my throat, and he turned around.
I let myself look at his body, because, well, it was my house and I could do what I wanted!
His tanned skin was so toned, just like it had been in high school from playing the drums. Except he was such a man now; bulkier, and with more deeply carved muscles.
My eyes wandered to his left collarbone, where I knew I’d find a freckle.
It had been so long since I had seen it. Since I had touched it.
No touching!
“Can you put your shirt back on?” I said with as much annoyance as I could muster.
“Can you knock before you open the door?” Jackson said as he threw his shirt back over his head.
“I will when you learn how to,” I shot back.
Jackson held up a hand and nodded. “Fair. I’ll stop doing that.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat again. “I think we should call it a day. This bathroom doesn’t have a window, so you should probably head out before the chemicals start messing with you.”
I wanted to take a break anyways, and start reading one of the books I bought. Anything to not think about the free view I just got of him, or how there was once a time when that view had been above me.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yep, the bathroom looks great. I’m gonna clean the floor and be done. I’m not going to redo anything.”
He let the brush fall into the bucket on the floor. “I think we should do the kitchen next. It’ll be easy since it’s small. I’ll bring some boxes.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for the help today.”
Jackson dragged a hand through his hair before grabbing his phone off the counter. “See you later.”
I didn’t walk him to the door this time.