Enemies With Benefits

Four~ Short Cakes

Chapter Four~ Short Cakes

July 9th, 2013- Tuesday

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I could hear the 'wecloming's from where I was stationed in the kitchen. The refrigerator door were wide open and I was busy rummaging through it for something. Maybe, if I was lucky, there would be some escape hatch hidden inside of it. However, after looking through it for a good thirty minutes I realized my fantasy wouldn't be coming true today.

Then a snide voice spoke up from behind me, "Vic, where's Short Cakes?"

"Um," my best friend hummed, "I think she's still in the kitchen."

I could practically hear the smirk in his voice, "Should've known."

Then I hear footsteps getting closer to the kitchen, and I panic. I push myself into the crack between the door and refrigerator shelves. Shutting the door as much as possible, I suck in my stomach to make myself any skinnier to make more room so the door can shut more.

Of course, my attempts are stupid, but you can't judge me. This is the same guy that ruined my life that I'm hiding from. You would do it, too!

Well, maybe you would be smarter than me and you would go hide in the pantry. Because now I'm freezing cold. Plus, I'm about to hyperventilate from being in such a small area. Do you see what happens when I think things through? I panic! And, when I panic, I tend to do stupid things. Things like trying to hide in a refrigerator!

AH! Something wet just touched my shoulder! Oh, wait. Never mind. It was just the ice covering meat in the refrigerator melting... EW! Melted meat ice! That's just... unsanitary.

I take back my comment at Vic. I am definitely the blonde in our relationship.

"Short Cakes?" his voice taunts as he slowly enters the kitchen. I hold my breath, hoping the sunlight in Spain got to his eye and now he was blind so he wouldn't notice the refrigerator. Of course, since my life is doomed, Jackson came right to the refrigerator. "I wonder where she could have gotten to," he teases.

"Not in the refrigerator!" I squeaked in the girliest voice I could muster.

"Of course not!" Jackson laughs mockingly. "She'd never be stupid enough to try and hide in a refrigerator!" he exclaims.

Next thing I know, the door is swinging open and I am falling.

Falling forward.

Straight into Jack.

He doesn't see it coming.

And we both go down.

I crash into his chest instead of the cold, hard kitchen tiles. Still, his chest was as hard as a freaking rock and I felt all of my breath leaving my body. Jackson, being the ass he is, flips us over so he's the one cushioned now while I wheeze under his weight. I swear, right now I wish I was still fat so I wouldn't feel him crushing my fragile bones. Crap! I think one of my ribs just broke.

"Who the hell are you?" Jackson suddenly snapped from above me.

It was then that I realized he was holding himself up with his hands on either side of my head. I opened my eyes, gaining back my breathing as I glared at Jackson. Then, I gasped. This bo-man above me looked nothing like the Jackson that left here at the beginning of the summer.

This Jackson was all muscle, and he knew it, too. His thick black hair had grown out to fall into his eyes under he pushed back the waves by running his fingers through the thick locks. Dark, dark brown eyes looked exactly what basic dark chocolate looked like. Right now, he seemed slightly angry so his usual dark eyes were even darked- almost black. I could cleary feel his entire pack of abs barely touching my flat stomach. Not only that, but I could feel his old jeans brushing against my thighs.

Dammit! This is what I was afraid of!

He left as the incarnation of Satan and came back as this godly creature.

Too bad he's still an ass.

"Focus," he growls. "I said: Who the hell are you?!" and it's like my reality came rushing back at me all at once as I stared back up at him; blue meeting brown.

I leaned up to get closer to him and growl back, "What's wrong, Jackson? Don't recognize the girl you terrorized for years to make her life a reality hell?"

His eyes widen, "Short Cakes?" he gapes.

Then he proceeds to dip his dead so he look completely down my body. When his eyes roam back up to my face, he leans in closer, and dips his head again. It took my ten seconds to realize he was looking down the dip of my dress to see my chest. I gasped, and hit the back of his head so he would look back up.

"OW!" he exclaims, bringing his head back up.

I smirk and glare at him at the same time, "Glad you could come back to reality, Jackson. Now would you get off of me?"

"I didn't hear the magic words!" he sang smugly.

"Get off of me or I'll kick you in the balls?"

His gaze hardens, "Wrong."

"Get off of me or I'll dye your hair pink and kick you in the balls?"

"No," he deadpans. "Short Cakes, I can do this all night long until you give me the correct words."

I bite my bottom lip and bring up one hand to tap my chin. "Hmmm," I hum, "get the hell off of me before I dye your hair pink, kick you in the balls, and drown you in your bathtub?" I guess sarcastically.

This cheeky grin lights up his face. "Depends. Will you be taking that bath with me?" I groan loudly and he clucks his tongue. "Now, you don't want to do that. You might give somebody the wrong idea about exactly what we're doing on the floor with me on top of you."

I gasp, my face becoming red while he laughs above me.

"Alright, I'll make you a deal, Short Cakes," he says smoothly. "If you tell me exactly what happened to this," he proceeds to run his hand down my arm to my hip and then to my thigh, "then I'll get up and leave you alone with the rest of my party." I felt completely violated to be honest, and it didn't help that I almost enjoyed him touching me like that because of how freaking hot he is.

The keyword in that was ALMOST.

"It's called," I whispered next to his ear, "getting tired of being picked on. Getting tired of being made fun of. And getting tired of some jackass that thought he ruled my life because I was fat and ugly. Now look at me Jackson; I make you... excited," and it was true.

There was this undeniable growing bulge pressing into my thigh. I put my head back down on the kitchen floor and grinned up at him deviously. Jack looked shocked, staring down at me with this look of wonder in his eyes that I found highly amusing. However, no matter how excited I managed to make Jack, he sitll called me that ridiculous nickname. It was stupid and he had called me it ever since we first met and he was like two feet taller than me.

Jackson then smirked again, that look leaving his eyes way too soon. "Well, Short Cakes," his hand was moving down again until he was touching my inner thigh. I gasp, wiggling under him and trying to get out as his hand moves upwards. "It seems that the feeling is... mutual," and he quickly touches me.

I gasp and wiggle again until he removes his hand from a spot that he shoulder never be allowed to touch again. I hated him. He should not be touching me in a place I hadn't let anyone ever get near. Ever. He looked way too smug with himself.

"What the hell is going on here?!" a voice yells from the doorway.

After looking down the front of my dress once more, Jack gets up. He barely glances at whoever was in the doorway as he offers me a hand up. "Nothing, Vic. She just tripped, is all," he mutters.

I ignore his hand and get up on my own, brushing past him.

"Yeah, come on," I murmur, grabbing my best friend's bicep. "It was just a misunderstanding," I brush off; she leaves it at that and follows me out of the kitchen.

Leaving Jack behind.