“Blaze?” It was Amelia.
“I’ve been waiting for you for ten minutes. Where are you? I have to be home in half an hour.” I groaned.
“My brother’s being a pain. Hold on, we’re coming.”
“Don’t leave me in the lurch,” I spat, then hung up. Finally my iced tea came, the only good part of the night. When I turned around, I almost got goose bumps.
Tiffany wasn’t there, but Sammy sat on the couch with him. When Jackson let a girl kiss his neck, he had the unhealthy habit of staring at me. I don’t know what kind of sick game he was playing, but at that moment I felt like I was going to die.
I almost ran to the bathroom.
It was decorated in a vintage style like the rest of the game room, and there were too many people inside. I barely made it to the sink.
Quit harassing me.
I only repeated it to myself. I never had the courage to say it to his face.
“Get out of the way, can’t you see that I need to get through?”
A tall tattooed guy got annoyed as I accidentally bumped into him. I always looked down when I was surrounded by annoying drunk people. The fear that someone would crack a joke that went too far was directly proportional to the likelihood that I’d burst into tears.
“Sorry.”
Flustered, I moved backward and bumped into his friend’s chest. I was trapped.
“Shit! You spilled my drink, watch where you’re going, dickhead!” someone screamed.
I didn’t know who said it because my brain was foggy, and my rib cage constricted with a spasm. I was about to have a panic attack.
“Who are you callingdickhead?” a voice thundered.
I turned around and saw Jackson grab the tattooed guy and shove him.
I didn’t know how to react. He was about to start a fight, and I couldn’t breathe.
“Let’s go. I don’t wanna fight with a bunch of kids,” one of the lunatics said, looking at us contemptuously.
I was petrified. My side was crushed against the sink, and I grasped the ceramic edge.
“Did you just defend me?” I gasped breathlessly. It was just me and him.
“I didn’t mean to,” grumbled Jackson, while he adjusted his jacket collar in the mirror. He checked himself out again, and I couldn’t blame him. If I had his body, I’d do the same.
“But you did,” I added, with a bit of courage.
“Pathetic loser,” he muttered under his breath, untangling his blond hair with one hand. Hearing him utter those words wasn’t new, but I still felt them twist a knife in my heart. It hurt. It wasn’t just the words that he aimed toward me; it was the vicious way that he looked at me. He scorned me as if he was looking into a mirror capable of revealing his true nature. He didn’t accept that reflection. His gaze was one of denial.
“Because that’s what you are, Blaze. A pathetic loser,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
I wanted to prove him wrong, but I couldn’t. I really was pathetic, and he knew it. I had been since that first rainy day at summer camp two years ago when he kissed me and I fell in love with him.
“Stop screwing with me.”
I screamed it, but my brain capsized into disconnected thoughts out of a brief sense of guilt for daring to confront him.
Jackson ignored my pleas, flung the stall door open, and pushed me inside. My back slammed against a dirty, moist tile wall as I lost myself in his ocean-blue eyes. I swallowed, and the ground under my feet got slippery. I tried to move one step forward, but he turned around and lunged at me. He put both his hands on my chest, holding me back against the wall.
I stared at his lips. I couldn’t help myself. He made me feel so weak that I thought I was gonna pass out.
