Chances

Chapter 15: Nothing

My eyes flutter open as I wake and remember that the body pushed up against me is Jackson, and I'm lying on his chest with my arm draped over his stomach, the light streaming it's way through the God awful netted curtains against my window. I barely even move under Jackson's touch as I feel his finger drawing circles on my bare skin underneath my sweater as his arm is snaked around me. I know that Jackson's awake because when I glance upwards I see his eyes open and just like before I fell asleep he's staring upwards towards the ceiling.

"Morning," He says, his voice rough and rugged which I can only put down to how early it must be and the dehydration from the alcohol kicking in for him. I go to move slightly away from him in embarrassment from being so... close to him, but his finger tips grip into my waist to stop me and I feel myself gasp at the butterflies that erupt at his touch. "Where are you going?" He mumbles and I rest myself back on his warm chest, my face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck.

"No where," I mumble against him, not quite sure where to put my hands or what to do, "I thought you might want me to get up."

"No." He says confusedly, "It's actually nice." He adds quietly and I nod into him, my finger tracing his side and I feel goosebumps arise on his skin as he takes in a deep breath.

I stay there for a moment and listen to his racing heart beneath me; I question momentarily if I'm the cause of his racing heartbeat but quickly shove that out of my mind, knowing I can't possibly be the reason for it, despite him being the reason for mine. I want to ask Jackson why he came here last night; what did he mean by he can't stay away from me? Did he mean that?

My throat feels tight with questions and I'm worried if I say the wrong one he'll go running. Again. I'm worried that I'm going to be that girl if I ask what the hell we're doing here and what it means for us. What am I saying? There is no us... Is there?

In that moment I suddenly become very aware of our bare legs that are tangled together; this is the closest I've ever been with anyone else and I can't help but feel stupid at the thought of how intimate these moments are. Stupid and inexperienced that I think because we share a bed that has to mean something, that I'm overthinking things, but of course I'm going to think that because to me these are important moments despite how usual they may be for Jackson. I'm not going to apologise for that. I refuse to.

"What are you thinking?" He asks as he tucks one hand behind his head, I pull backwards slightly to look up at him and rub my eyes clear; I've never noticed how bulging his biceps are until now and it causes me to delay my response for a moment. He looks down at me and I shake my head as I feel lost in his dark brown eyes. The light from the window letting me stare long enough to notice that he has speckles of light brown and hazel streaming through his iris' and I can't help but think of how beautiful his eyes actually are.

"Erm," I start and shake my head once again, "Nothing, I guess."

"You're just overthinking, right?" He smirks to himself as if reading my mind and I scoff slightly, "Can a guy not just chill with a girl?"

"As friends?" I ask, biting my lip and averting my gaze as I do. This isn't something I do with my friends, and if that's what he does with his friends then I certainly don't want to be put into that category.

"No." He sighs, "I don't know," He then corrects, "Look, Lydia, I don't really do relationships. I- Fuck, okay look," He sits up and I follow his lead, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach which I can only associate as being the feeling of dread.

"I don't need you to explain it to me Jackson, I get it." I try to lighten the mood but I'm not sure if my face quite matches it. "We barely know each other, I'm not your type, you're certainly not mine-"