Backstreet Boy

|Chapter 17: Strict Conditions|

Jason

By the time Isabella was walking backwards back into the kitchen, I was already in the middle of the protocol of slipping my top back on.

I heard what happened at the door, and I know Jackson was stood there waiting for Isabella to open it. It was making my blood bubble with fury and lividness just contemplating the whole situation.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded. "You need to leave. Now!"

Isabella stood next to me back by the counter she had formerly sprang rapidly from it without any thinking time and merely acting on impulse. I stole a glance at her; her lips were pursed but still in a natural pout as Jackson strolled into the kitchen to join us.

"You need to leave."

Jackson flicked his cigar. "You know, I don't want to. I was thinkin' more about your decision to not join us, Jason and frankly, I'm shocked. I'd had thought you'd love the thrill of adrenaline pumping through your veins on a dangerous mission."

"I'm not like my brothers."

"Ah, yes, I had heard about that story. Shockin', isn't it?" He turned to Isabella. "Has he told you yet? You're his... maid? Slut?"

"Don't call her that!" I gruffly shouted, blurting out the words before I could stop myself. But a conversation and declaration about my brothers was not a topic I was about to commence or partake in.

Jackson was pleasantly amused yet taken aback. "Somethin' has sparked between you two, hasn't it?"

"No. We're only here because of you and your goddamn games."

Chuckling, he took his prospect to glimpse around the kitchen quickly and flicking his cigar again. "Nice lil' place you got here, Jason. You live with your brother, Alex, right?"

"Yeah," I responded, "what of it?"

"Oh, nothin' really. Nice lil' place," he repeated.

"Leave," I ordered again.

Disputing things with Jackson never works out in the other person's favour, and in this case, that person was me. Jackson dominated arguments and claimed victory in every single one. He was a man who always got his way and would throw a tantrum if he lost or something went haphazardly wrong.

"I want you to join us, Jason. How many times must I ask you?"

"You can ask as many times as you'd like, but I'll never join you," I responded confidently. "Now please get out of my house."

Jackson didn't reply directly to me. Instead he surveyed both Isabella and I. He took his time, too. Silence lingered in the air. Then his eyes settled on me again and he said, "I understand why you two keep contactin' one another. You both like the thrill of having somethin' forbidden. You like the adrenaline."

"We've been thrown into this stupid game together because of you," Isabella piped up. This was the first thing she'd said since running into Jackson at the door. Candidly, I was aghast.

"I understand now, but there's a reason why you're keepin' contact. Either one of you could have just thrown the towel in at some point but neither did. Ask yourselves why. You both feel that status doesn't matter but instead the severity of the connection between you two. It's a bit like Romeo and Juliet, isn't it?"

"We don't have a bloody connection," I protested, scoffing. "We're in this mess together and we have to protect one another. Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you left."

"Okay, I'll leave," he said, flipping some ashes onto the floor and speaking with ease, "but on one condition." One moment the deniability of leaving seemed fun to him and now the roles were reversed. He was going to leave... but there's always a bloody goddamn catch.