Before Sunday

Eleven

7:07 PM

He doesn't so much as blink. He stands there looking at me with eyes that are saturated with a certain kind of wonder. The fact that they are narrowed in on my makes me nervous. I clear my throat, placing my fingertips on the side of my neck and allow my gaze to fall to my feet.

I sense him stiffening his posture. "So, Angel, what do you want to do?"

Such a loaded question. I could think of a hundred things I want to do in this moment, most notably getting to know Jackson Sunday a whole lot better. My body responds to him in ways that I've never experienced before and I'm curious to explore it.

I bite down on my lip, slide my fingers from my neck to my hair, and twirl it in a sad attempt at looking seductive.

Sad or not, it works, because I'm rewarded with a lazy grin that slips into place on Jackson. "Are you going to ask what I want to do?"

Sure, I'll play his little game. "What do you want to do, Jax?"

"You," he says simply. "I want to do you, Lola. But alas, you're not ready."

I beg to differ. "How would you know?"

"Because," he states, "I'm your first. These things take time."

"I'm not so sure I want to wait." Oh. My. God. Did that just come out of my mouth? Mine?

Jackson smiles. "We don't always get what we want. Not happening until you can admit to me and to yourself that you're crazy, stupid, madly in love with me. Then and only then the time will be right and I promise you, it will be perfect."

"Do you always know the right thing to say or do you ever trip up? Honestly, is there a single time in your life that you can recall when you aren't so bloody confident?"

"There have been plenty of those times, Lola. And I kept them in the past, where they belong. Now. Onto how we are going to spend our first night together. There's a hot tub outside. It's got your name on it."

"It actually says Polar Spas on it," I point out.

"There's my little smartass. Seriously. What do you think?"

"Seriously it sounds like heaven, but I kind of ran here like the wind. I didn't exactly pack my swimsuit."

"Wear nothing, I won't look."

"As if."

He holds his hand up, palm forward. "Promise. I pledged to be on my best behavior. I intend to keep my word. Besides, future Lola would do it. Future Lola is a little bit cray cray."

I giggle. "One, don't ever say cray cray again, and two, I am not. There's no way."

"One," he echoes, "Fine. I won't say it ever again. Two, it's true. Future Lola is a wild child."

"You're a wild child, Jackson."

He shrugs. "Can't argue with the truth. Come on now, it'll be fun. Live a little."

You know something, he's right. I need to live. A lot.

"Fine. But I'm getting in first. I get a five minute head start to adjust myself."

"You sound like a guy. If anyone will need adjusting it's yours truly."

I laugh again. "Maybe but no head start, no hot tub."

He points to the long hallway. "Towels are in the end closet. You can use that to hide your goods, which I will take this opportunity to say I've seen all of and I know better than I know myself."