“Then why are you two flirting with each other?”
“We’re not flirting, Jackson. We’re conversing.”
“You keep laughing.”
“So? He’s funny.”
“He’s not that funny.” I stepped into her, towering over her small frame. But she didn’t seem frightened. If anything, she looked annoyed at my continuous questions and accusations.
“I’m not sure why you seem to be upset, but if you’re worried about me getting my job done, I can assure you, I will. I’ll stay later, if that’s what it takes.”
“I’m not worried about your fucking job.”
She rested her hand on her waist. “What’s going on?”
There were so many things I could’ve responded with, but what did I say instead?
“You’re not going to oversee the gym anymore.”
“Jackson… please don’t do this. I need this job, especially now. If you don’t want me to talk to Lance while I’m working, I won’t. Just don’t fire me. I promise—”
“I’m not firing you. I’m switching your job.”
“Oh.”
“You’re going to be my sports therapist from here on out. That means your hours will change and you’ll have to travel to the fights as well. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I walked away, brushing past Lance and Trevor without another word, refusing to indulge in the questioning look on both of their faces.
I tried to convince myself that Sophie would be less distracting if her sole job was focused on me.
How delusional I’d truly become.
18
As I stood on Jackson’s doorstep, only eight feet from mine, a flush spread over my skin. Every breath I welcomed into my lungs was forced out in nervousness, my chest beginning to rise and fall faster than I wanted.
“Make sure to stay detached,” I mumbled, gathering my nerve. I knocked on his door, counting the seconds until he appeared in front of me. I made it to five.
“I have the oil,” I blurted, holding up the small clear bottle before he even had the opportunity to say hello.
Jackson took it from me, inspecting it before fixing his eyes on mine. We stood there staring, neither of us saying a word, the seconds slipping by. I contemplated turning on my heel and leaving him alone, but my feet remained frozen in place.
Several more heartbeats passed before he broke the awkward silence.
“Do you have time to put it on me? I think I overdid it today, and my shoulder is paying the price.” His expression was flat, but his tone rose a fraction.
“Sure.”
He stepped aside so I could enter, my arm brushing against him as I walked into his apartment. The layout was the same as mine, and even the warm color on the wall was the same shade. But whereas I’d thrown up a couple pictures, Jackson’s walls were bare. In fact, there weren’t any personal items of his anywhere to be seen. The space was sterile, eliciting a cold vibe, much like the man next to me.
His demeanor toward me, even though he was the one who invited me inside, was distant. Had I done something wrong? Minus the odd confrontation earlier when he’d dragged me away from Lance, nothing unusual happened between us.
Jackson pulled his shirt over his head. “What are you doing?” I asked when he tossed the material over the back of the chair.
“You said you could put the oil on my shoulder. I doubt you’d be doing that with my shirt still on.”
