MIA
"Let's get you up first," Jackson said, reaching out to hold my waist and lift me off the floor. His eyes scanned my body, searching for any signs of injuries.
"Are you okay?" His concern was evident in his voice and his worried expression. I couldn't help but nod, even though I wasn't entirely fine.
"You're lying," he stated, noticing the bruise on my knee.
"I... what are you doing here?" I asked, curious about his unexpected presence.
"Miles called me. He couldn't make it due to the terrible traffic. I don't think we'll be able to get back early... But don't worry, he called your mom, so she thinks you're hanging out with him," he explained, providing some relief.
I lowered my head, feeling a bit embarrassed as I remembered breaking down in front of him. "Let's... go then," I managed to say, picking up my bag from the floor.
As I moved to walk away, I felt his hand on my arm, pulling me back. I wanted to ask him what had happened, but before I could, he placed his hand on my waist and effortlessly lifted me off the ground. "Jackson!"
"What? You're injured," he retorted, heading towards the car. "It's just a scratch! Put... Put me down now," I insisted, trying to regain control of the situation.
He rolled his eyes instead of complying, lifting me slightly and encouraging me to wrap my hands around his neck to prevent myself from falling. "You... You'll fall... let me down," I stuttered, glancing at the ground and then back at him. He was smirking. "Are you mocking me?"
"Something like that," he grinned mischievously. I wanted to speak up and ask him to put me down, but he leaned closer to my face. "Stay put, the guards are watching."
Oh no! I had completely forgotten about them.
"Fine," I muttered, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. My eyes quickly shifted from his jawline to his neck, specifically his Adam's apple. "You're such a creep, Mia," I scolded myself silently.
We cautiously approached the car, my heart pounding like a drum. But being this close to him, I realized how foolish I was to think it could remain calm. Jackson's presence was so warm and comforting, momentarily making me forget about Ethan leaving me. However, as soon as that memory resurfaced, so did the pain.
Just great.
"Boy," we heard a voice and turned to see the older guard who resembled pops calling out to Jackson. "Yes, sir," Jackson replied respectfully.
"I don't know how important it was for you to leave your girlfriend all alone here," the man remarked, and I immediately coughed upon hearing the word 'girlfriend'. His girlfriend?!
"No... It's... not... that, he... he's not my..." My mind kept fixating on that word, causing my foolish heart to race uncontrollably.
"It's okay, young lady. I understand you're trying to protect your boyfriend, but it's just not right to leave a lady alone, especially on a date," the older man continued, accusing Jackson. Everything in me wanted to scream and say he wasn't my boyfriend, and that he had it all wrong.
"You're right, sir," I turned my head toward Jackson's face as quickly as I could. Huh?! "What kind of boyfriend am I to leave my girlfriend all alone here? I apologize." What on earth was he doing?! He should just tell the truth, or better yet, why was I keeping silent?
"Good, but make sure to keep her happy, okay," the man concluded which that was last straw.
"Sir, you have it all wrong. He's not my boy—" I nervously laughed, waving my hands in denial, but Jackson cut me off.
"Definitely, I will. Thank you, sir," Jackson smiled at the man, then turned his head to mine and gave me a quick wink before escorting me to his car.
What just happened?
He opened the car with his free hand and gently placed me in the front seat. I was about to seize the opportunity to talk to the older man who was staring at us as if he had been right about me being Jackson's girlfriend, but Jackson quickly intervened and walked back to the man.
He handed something to the man, but the older man refused. Jackson insisted, causing the man to stare in my direction and give me a thumbs-up, as if I had successfully secured Jackson as my boyfriend.
"I'm gonna kill him," I whispered to myself, waiting patiently for Jackson to enter the car, which he did after a few seconds.
"So—" He started to speak.
"How could you?!" I used my bag to hit him, and he burst into laughter, which only fueled my anger further. "You think this is funny, huh?! You were leading him on. You're cruel," I hit his shoulders with my bag, and in an instant, I felt his hands grab mine, pulling me closer to his face.
Cheeks, don't you dare blush!
"Hey," he whispered, causing me to gulp. "I had to go with it. Should I tell him you were... You know," he hesitated, not wanting to say the word explicitly, which made me feel a little relieved and a little uneasy.
I slowly pulled away from his grip, settling into the headrest of my seat. "I guess not," I sighed, receiving a hum in response. He started the engine and reversed the car away from the park. I decided to make use of the charger he had in his car and plugged in my phone, gazing out the window.
"Where are we going?" I asked, recalling his mention of the traffic on my side.
"To a pharmacy store. We need to apply ointment to your wound," he replied.
"It's just a scratch, Jackson. I'll be fine," I corrected him.
"We're still going," he muttered to himself, but I caught his words. I decided to give up arguing since he was the one with the car.
...
"Thank you, ma'am," Jackson smiled at the woman, taking the ointment from the store and heading back to the car.
It was getting dark, so we decided to sit on a bench near the pharmacy store. He retrieved the ointment from its packaging and knelt in front of me.
"What are you doing?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Uh... helping you?" he raised his own eyebrow.
"Oh, it's okay. I can do it," I reached out my hand to take it from him, but he pulled his hand back, shaking his head. "I got this," he smiled. My eyes briefly wandered to his dimples before glancing around the store.
"Fine," what else could I do? He looked so cute, I had to give in.
"Good, now your leg," I slowly extended my leg, revealing the bruise. He gently touched my leg, and I was relieved that his attention was focused on the injury rather than my flushed face.
Passersby glanced at us as he applied the ointment to my leg, and I wanted to run away and forget about today. But then he suddenly laughed, causing me to look at him quizzically.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"Nothing. I just remembered the time when that girl pushed you off the swing when we were young," he chuckled.
"Oh, really? That's what you remember at a time like this?" I responded, rolling my eyes.
His laughter grew louder after my comment, and the streetlights made his eyes sparkle as he looked at me, creating a warm, fuzzy feeling inside me.
"I'm sorry. I just can't help it. But remember what you did?" he smirked.
I laughed, rolling my eyes. "I punched her," we both burst into laughter simultaneously.
"You were so feisty when you were young," he remarked, still chuckling.
"Hey! It's not my fault. You were there, and it was so embarrassing that you saw it, so I had to hit her," shit! I bit my tongue hard as I realized what I had just said. He suddenly stopped laughing, staring at me, and I wished I could disappear.
Ethan, I swear I'll kill you for putting me in this kind of situation.
"What I meant was... I was embarrassed that the others kids were there, so that's why," I nervously waved it off with my hand.
"Oh," was his response before he resumed applying the ointment. Suddenly, it became quiet. The breeze felt cool, and the clouds slowly dispersed. I don't know what came over me, but I raised my hand and lightly touched his hair.
It was soft, just as I remembered.
I sensed his body stiffen in surprise, and he slowly lifted his head to face me. "Sorry... Just curious," I quickly stammered, retracting my hand from his hair. But he reached out and placed it back, moving closer to me.
"You can touch it anytime," my heart raced.
"O... Okay," I whispered, our eyes locked onto each other. I glanced at his lips and unconsciously licked mine. I noticed his gaze on my lips, and perhaps I was imagining it, but I felt him inch closer.
"Watch out!" a ball smacked into his head, causing him to fall back, groaning in pain. "Jackson!" I rushed down beside him, touching his face in concern.
"I'm fine," he chuckled briefly before groaning again and rubbing his cheek.
"I'm so sorry," a small girl approached us, tears streaming down her face. She looked around six years old, and her mother hurried over to us.
"We are so sorry. Are you alright, young man?" the woman asked, her hand holding onto her daughter's.
"It's okay, ma'am," I reassured as I held Jackson's hand, helping him to stand up and brush off the dirt.
"We apologize once again," the woman said, looking genuinely guilty. I wanted to be angry on Jackson's behalf, but seeing the little girl in tears and the remorse on her mother's face, it felt cruel to hold onto the anger.
"Now, say sorry to the young man and his girlfriend," the woman instructed her daughter.
You've got to be kidding me.
.....