[AN: Hey!
I just wanted to say thank you so much for 11k reads! I was drafting a 10k appreciation statement but all of a sudden I saw that it went up another thousand. Also, we reached 1k votes and 1k comments!!!
I seriously can't explain how every comment affects (or is it effects?) me personally in the best ways possible. Not to mention every vote and read this book gets as well.
A few taps of your thumb will literally make my heart beat 100 miles per hour. Comments and votes remind me to write and but more importantly remind me why I write-- which is for you guys.
Anyway, I'm writing as much as I can in my free time-- who am I kidding I don't have free time but it's okay.
So be ready for a new chapter on Friday! Until then, have a happy Wednesday (and Thursday)!
Love,
Leah
~~~That used to be a chapter titled "UPDATE" that I posted *I think* in early September of 2018 but deleted so my chapter count is actually accurate to the number of chapters this book has. This change was made October 14th, 2018. Anyways, enjoy my cringey writing lol.]
[Status: Unedited]
[AN: SAME WARNING AS LAST TIME]
"Spencer..." he starts with a voice that, unlike his body, conveys certainty. If I wasn't able to see his face right in front of me... and hadn't just made out with him... that voice would've effectively pushed me away.
Yet I'm still here, partially due to the fact that I used to be a theatre kid. I know an actor when I see one. Jack's cold exterior is cracking, showing some hope that he might not avoid me for the rest of his life.
His voice is pretty convincing though... a surge of doubt rushes through me as I consider fleeing from the situation altogether.
But instead, I watch, frustrated and confused as he wets his lips but doesn't say anything more. The only thing speaking in the room is the return of his awkward, tense posture that conveys all of the pent-up potential outbursts about to reach the surface.
All of those emotions-- whatever they are-- currently stuffed deep inside, make Jack Summers a ticking time bomb.
That should scare me, but it doesn't. For some crazy, messed up reason, I'm not running to take cover as any sane person would do in the presence of timed explosives.
Yet, I can't help but physically flinch when I catch a glimpse of his eyes-- the ones that I expected to be full of anger-- but are instead full of heartwrenching, soul-crushing, stomach curdling guilt.
Why?
He's avoiding any eye contact with me but I'll have none of that-- "Hey, look at me," I reach up and hold the sides of his face so I can turn his head toward me.
I rub my thumb along the edge of his jaw gently, hoping to calm whatever storm is brewing inside.
"What's wrong?" I ask in a more hushed voice-- it's soft but portrays a certain degree of sternness to express my determination. It might be my horny hormones talking but something tells me it's deeper than that. I feel... protective over him. There's something indicating I should give this my best shot.
I am not going to let him go.
Not this time.
"Why'd you stop?" I decide to ask bluntly.
He shifts on his feet, seemingly uncomfortable with my candid question. "I can't..." his eyes avoid me again and he blushes as he murmurs quietly, "I'm losing control."
Annoyed with his downcast eyes as well as his confusing answers, I turn his head toward me again and send him a questioning look.
It's an immense struggle to not glance down at Jack's prominent Adam's Apple that bobs as he clears his throat. Everything seems to still as I wait for him to elaborate.
"You make me lose control," he specifies, with slightly more resolve.
This gives me the bit more courage I need. I decide to be gutsy, quipping, "And what's wrong with that?"
His mouth gapes open for a split second before he replies, "It's dangerous."
"How so?"
He rolls his eyes. "You know," he growls, sending me an incredulous look.
I reply immediately with confidence. "No, I don't."
...But I'm biting down very hard on my lip to prevent myself from grinning at the situation. The action causes Jack's eyes to snap to my lips.
His eyes seem to glaze over as he mumbles something but I only catch the end, "...things I'd do to you."
I feel something warm begin to pool in the pit my stomach. I feel like my heart is acting weird. My blood seems to be pumping differently, is that a thing? Is that normal? What did he just say?
My voice comes out scratchy and tense. "I'm sorry, what?"
It takes him a moment to absorb what I said, but when he does he blinks rapidly before shaking his head slightly and responding, "I'm losing control."
"I know, you already said that," I point out while trying my best to not sound rude or impatient. It's really hard to do when I'm currently all wound up by just a few words he said but he won't allow me any type of release by revealing what the meaning of what he said was. All I know is that I want him to say those things again and then do-
I'm distracted by the tense shrug of his shoulders. "I felt like it needed to be said again."
Even though he's lying, I let out a hum in understanding, then like I'm pondering something important. My body is getting ahead of itself, already aroused at the prospect of what I'm about to do. I feel sensitive all over-- like each of my senses is being heightened.
"So having control is something you like?"
My voice betrays my attempts at restraining myself... and soon my body betrays me as well. I trail my fingers down his neck and I'm trembling slightly, filled with excited nerves, but I don't think he cares because he seems the same. He shudders into my touch when I press down on a prominent vein on his neck.
He simply nods to answer my question as he seems to be struggling to form any words... especially when I reach my hands under his shirt. I delicately trace the outline of the V straddling his hips with my fingers,
"So this-"
I find the hem of his shirt so I can lift it up over his head, throwing it on the floor before we're turned around because I want to push him up against the wall and lock his hands into position above his head, pressing myself-- my whole body-- up against him as much as possible. And I do.
"-doesn't do anything for you?"
There's a moment of pause. I can see how my breath results in the formation of goosebumps that line the skin of his collarbone. My grip on his hands falters slightly as I realize the boldness of what I've just done.
"Is that the problem?" I'm doing my best to portray confidence, but the possibility of rejection catches up to me and my voice cracks with the last word.
I'm suddenly extremely self-conscious, realizing now that we're both shirtless, how my body looks compared to his. Why would he ever be physically attracted to me? No wonder why he wanted to stop-- I mean, I'm putty in his arms for goodness sakes! His actions have an effect on me that I'm sure mine never will. All he has to do is just hug me the right way to turn me on but how could I ever expect to have that effect on him? I'm not a jacked football player like he is and-
"No."
I'm still blushing and shielding my face from Jack when his voice snaps me from my thoughts. I realize that I've let go of his large hands that have now found my nervous, fiddly ones. He squeezes them and I'm sure it's meant to reassure me about something but all I can think about is how I've completely embarrassed myself and about how foolish I was to think that I could seduce Jack Summers.
He's just letting me down easy. The comforting squeeze of my hands just reminds me of this and I blush harder because he's putting so much effort into preventing my embarrassment. He's only doing this because he's nice and that makes me feel disgusted. An overwhelming feeling of worthlessness is starting to consume me. A bitter taste forms in my mouth. I hate emotions.
I hate that Jack hopped on the Spencer train and it only took a few minutes before he decided it's not worth the trouble. The only reason that he's still here is now there's a mess-- he feels that he has to clean the air before he leaves. He probably thinks he's a great human being for doing it, too. Self-righteous a**hole.
I don't want his stupid pity or his lies. He should just tell me that I'm a crappy kisser who can't read social cues and leave.
I'm practically fuming by the time I notice the warm of his hands that are now cupped under my chin. He tilts my head up and I flinch, preparing for the worst.
"To answer your question, no."
I allow my eyes, that had previously been squeezed shut, to crack open slightly. This time, the semi-condescending confidence in his voice is reflected in the expression occupying his face.
"No, the problem isn't that it doesn't do anything for me..." he chuckles humorlessly.
"The problem is that it does everything for me."
------
AN: Hello everybody!
Internet problems and unexpected complications arose so I apologize for the one-day-late update but I made this chapter 40-60% longer than my most recent ones to try my best to make up for it.
Sooo what do you think about Spencer's doubts?
Is he right?
Is Jack lying just because he doesn't want to break Spencer's heart?
... Tell me what you think!
Also, just curious, have any of you either been in a situation like this where someone doubts the other person's feelings? If so, were you Jack or Spencer?
Have a lovely weekend!! I have more days off of work coming up so hopefully you'll see more frequent updates from me.
Love,
Leah