9:03 AM
The sheets on Jackson's bed smell like him. I could stay here forever. After everything that happened, I thought I'd be shy, maybe even a little embarrassed but I'm not. I've never put myself at the mercy of another that way but the experience has left me wanting to do it again and again. I've never felt more alive.
My head rests on Jackson's chest, my legs pretzeled inside his. I'd promised him I'd try to sleep hours ago, I can't. I can't stop staring at him. Examining the way his eyelashes fan out, or how the left side of his mouth bows ever so slightly downward, or the way his breathing reminds me of how he moves about, calculated, precise. He truly is a beautiful specimen of human being. There's no denying it. The rays of the sun are beginning to peek through the curtains of his steel grey bedroom and despite the fact that I haven't slept a wink, I feel better than I've felt in weeks—like Jackson is a supercharger that's boosted a slowly dying me.
I moved on about ten minutes ago from examining his face, to investigating his tattoo. I shouldn't touch him. I should let him sleep but it's too hard to resist. I brush my fingers across his chest until they reach the ink. Now that I'm close to him, the cogs, the gears all shift and morph into clock faces. Each one is different, some perfectly symmetrical, some skewed in shape, each one set to read a different time. Wispy swirls of black that surround them give the illusion of movement. It's spectacular.
His lashes flutter before he lazily opens his eyes. I'm rewarded with a smile. "Morning, Angel. I just had the best dream. My hot wife was in it doing what she does best—bein' hot and showing her smarts."
I'm getting used to the idea of being Jackson's future wife. Maybe it's too much, too soon but after letting my reservations go, setting myself free, I can see how I fall head over heels for him, and why. I press my lips to his chest, deliver a kiss and look up at him. "Sorry to wake you. I was checking out the tattoo."
He seems amused. "Yeah, what do you think? You like it?"
"It's extraordinary, how long have you had it?"
"Truth?"
"Truth."
"The sleeve started the day after I met you."
"What?"
"The day after I met you." He takes my fingertip with his free hand and places it on the clock nearest his shoulder. "This one," he says. "It started with this one."
The clock he's talking about is skewed in shape, but the numbers are clear. "12:20?"
"12:22 if we're getting specific," he says. "That's the time my whole world stopped spinning."
"What happened at 12:22?"
"I met you," he says simply. He grins again and places a kiss on my nose.
I find myself at a loss for words. "What?"
"I met you at 12:22." He moves my finger to the next clock. "And at 3:57 in the afternoon about two weeks later, I told you I was crazy about you and asked you to be my girlfriend. Officially."
I jolt up in the bed before bending to get a closer look. My face is so close to his arm, I'm sure he can feel my breath on his skin. "Jax, there must be twenty clocks on your arm."
"Eighteen," he says. "Each one to remind me of something important between us. This one," he moves my hand again to a clock situated near his elbow. "9:32 PM, when I asked you to make the me happiest man alive and you said yes."
A proposal clock? My heart swells inside my chest as Jackson's hand slides mine even further down near the skin on his wrist. "7:27 PM, the precise moment in time you became my forever."
"Our wedding?"
"Our sunset wedding," he says. "Yes. This clock is my favorite. No competition."
"Oh my God. You're serious."
"Time's no joke, Lola. Especially time with you. I never want to forget." His hands brush my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. "I never will forget."
A lump lodges itself somewhere in my throat and before I have any say in the matter, tears sting my eyes.
Jackson's hand moves from my hair to my cheek. "Don't cry."
"I-I--" I desperately need words. Something. Anything. "Jackson."
"Lola."
"You did that for me?"
He nods. "Well technically the tattoo is inspired by you, for me, so I have a reminder to never take a second for granted but yeah, you could say it's for you."
I blink. Stunned. "Where did you come from, Jackson Sunday?"
His hand once again slips down, this time on the left side of my chest. "From here."
I want to kiss him. But the fact that it's morning and my teeth have yet to see a toothbrush stops me. "Wait right here," I say, jumping out of the bed. I run to the bathroom, squish some toothpaste from the tube across the length of my finger and brush it across my teeth and tongue. I swish the water around in my mouth, spit and race back to the bedroom.
Jax hasn't moved from the spot I left him a few minutes ago. He smiles. "I could get used to you running to my bed."
As I crawl in beside him, I frame his face in my hands. "I never knew what I was missing, I never knew I was missing anything at all" I say softly, "until you." I place my mouth on his, brushing my lips across his. His thumb settles on my chin and forces my mouth open. No longer, self conscious, I allow him to do it, and I deepen the kiss.
Jackson moves swiftly, turning me around so I'm on my back. His body is strong and he's able to hover over me as if it requires no effort at all. We spend the next ten minutes this way and I'm sure it's the closest I'll ever be on this earth to Heaven.
He finally breaks the kiss. "You brushed your teeth," he says. "Now I feel like I'm assaulting you with my bedroom breath."
I smile. "I don't mind."
He sits up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and throwing a glance over his shoulder. "I'll be right back. We can pick up where we left off."
"Can't wait."
He walks out of the bedroom and as he moves, I admire the way the muscles in his back shift with each step.
My phone is sitting on the nightstand. I hadn't thought much about it at all last night so I pick it up.
My eyes widen the second I see that Xavier has texted me five times.
Hey Mouse.
Mouse?
You there?
You stopped texting.
I'm calling the cops.
The last text is time stamped at 11:00 PM last night.
I reply quickly.
X. I'm here. I fell asleep. No pepper spray or security guards required. I'm fine.
His response is fast.
Every hour. That was the deal. Fail, Lola. What time did you get home?
I debate lying. But lying to Xavier is wrong. I can't. We don't have secrets. I have no intention of starting now.
I didn't go home. I stayed here last night. NOTHING HAPPENED. I add before he makes assumptions he doesn't need to be making. I stare at my phone for what feels like a lifetime before he replies.
Glad to hear it. I'd have to kill him.
I'm fine. He's a perfect gentleman, I promise.
With my bare hands. Wouldn't even need a gun, Mouse.
I swear X. You'd like him. Give him a chance. Please? For me?
Whatever. Fine. For you.
Thank you. XOXO
Coffee?
Yes. Coffee. An hour?
See you there.
X?
What?
I love you.
Love you too, to the moon and back.
So long as X bids me farewell with the words, 'to the moon and back' I know we're in a place that is okay. It's been our goodbye sentiment since I can remember and the handful of times Xavier has been legitimately angry with me, he refuses to say it as if to punish me for however I've wronged him.
I place the phone on the nightstand just as Jackson returns to the room. He crawls back up on the bed and stalks toward me with a sly grin on his face. "So," he says, "ready for round two? Where did we leave off?"
My body hums at the thought.
"I told Xavier I'd meet him for coffee in an hour," I say before he can get any closer.
Jackson's eyebrow darts skyward. "Oh?"
"Yes," I say, "I did. And it would mean a lot to me if you would come with me."
"What does Xavier think about that? Guy is kind of possessive. Trust me, he likes his Lola time, not that I can blame him."
I bite down on my lip. "I didn't exactly ask him for permission to bring someone. He's not my keeper."
"No," Jackson says, "He's not. But he is your best friend. A title I have yet to take from him, even ten years in the future. He's always going to be your best friend, Lola. Don't you think you should ask if he minds a third wheel?"
More to humor Jackson and not to ask for permission, I scoop my phone back up from my night stand.
Benefit of the doubt. I'm bringing Jackson for coffee.
The phone dings immediately.
Joy. Can't. Wait.
"Done," I say to Jackson, setting the phone back down, "now, where were you?"
He presses a lip to my bare thigh. "I was right about here."