Whatever decision I make isn’t being made fast enough because the next thing I know, Jackson shoves a cup into my hand.
“Here you go.”
With a fake smile, I take it. “Thanks.”
“No problem. You’re cute, you know that?” Jackson says while looking me up and down, his eyes lingering uncomfortably long on my thighs. “We don’t usually get girls that look like you around here.”
I have no idea what the hell that’s supposed to mean.
Jackson motions to get my attention, pointing toward the front door. “Now that we have our drinks, come outside with me while I spark up.”
Hesitation grips my chest.
“Oh, come on. Keep me company,” he pleads when I don’t move.
With a slow nod, I follow. It’ll be fine since I need to leave in this direction anyway. Jackson leads me across the threshold and past a group of guys on the porch. We descend the shortstaircase, and I take in my surroundings. There’s double the number of vehicles here now than when I arrived. People loiter about as we walk to the side of the house, where the party noise fades into the background. Close enough to still see people, but isolated enough that no one’s paying attention.
When I turn to face Jackson, he’s already pulling a joint from the pocket of his ripped jeans. The flame from his lighter flickers against his smug expression as he lights up, then takes a long drag. Smoke curls from his lips, slow and lazy, before he exhales into the cool night air like he owns it.
He holds the joint out in my direction. “Wanna hit?”
I frown. “Naw, I’m good. That’s not my thing.”
“Suit yourself.” Jackson takes another puff while staring me up and down, his eyes gluing to my thighs again.
“They don’t do random drug screens or something?” I fold my arms, careful not to spill the drink, and watch the cloud dissipate between us.
He chuckles. It’s low and condescending, as if I’m cute for being concerned. Like he doesn’t have a single consequence in the world.
Which, judging by the way he’s looking at me with sharp eyes, and a grin full of challenge, he probably doesn’t.
“Why, you plan on telling on me or something?” Jackson smirks.
“No.” I glance around. “It’s your lungs you’re nuking.”
He laughs, then his gaze drops to my untouched drink. “You didn’t even sip that.”
I shrug. “I’m not really thirsty.”
“That’s kind of shitty to waste perfectly good liquor. Plus it’s rude to make me drink alone.” His stare lingers too long.
Fine. Just a sip if it’ll get him to back off about it. I bring it tomy lips as he watches me intently. I glance at the cup, more out of habit than anything. A frown forms along my brow, and I tilt the red cup just to be sure I’m not seeing things.
Turns out, I see just fine.
There’s something floating near the surface.
My stomach twists. I frown, tilting the cup under the dim light coming from the floodlights on the side of the house. It’s small, but it’s there. A film of something.
Jackson moves closer. “It’s just foam.”
My pulse spikes. I didn’t say anything about what I’m looking at, yet he has an answer for it.
My fingers tighten around the plastic, breath coming too fast. “Did you put something in my drink?”
His easy expression cracks, in its place a cold, defensive stare.
I step back but he grabs my wrist.
