MY heavy eyelids flutter open slowly as the morning light streaks through my half drawn curtains. I move to lift my hands but they feel like they weigh a ton of bricks and my stomach is all twisted in heavy thick knots.
I shift to my side and my eyes land on the bottle of water sitting on my bedside table and suddenly everything from the night before comes flooding back and nausea rises from within me instantly.
My cheeks flame as deep embarrassment coats me uncomfortably like an itchy sweater. How could I accuse Preston like that? In my drunken state I spewed words I don't even think I truly believe. How could I call him a murderer? He's tutored me. He's helped me. He's pushed me.
He's...believed in me. Like no one else ever has and it's helped me grow stronger, not only in my class but in life. His voice is the voice that remains in the back of my head when I'm out shopping or with my friends or at dinner with my family or even taking an exam.
It's right at this moment the most real and scary thought emerges and it's that Preston Rothwell makes me a better person. Not the person my mother or father want me to be. Not even the person I have always thought I should be. He just makes me better. Screw what everyone else thinks. Screw everyone else and go after what I want.
At the strong and sudden realization I have uncertainty begins to wind throughout me as my hazy yet racing thoughts begin to consume me. I hate myself for saying what I said last night to Preston, more than I can even explain, but I also secretly know it might be true. I don't know anything about him. Really. He still has this air of mystery hanging around him like a heady cloud and a part of me is scared to uncover what lies underneath those dark eyes because I know I might not like it.
A small reluctant but realistic piece of me knows he may be exactly what I called him and that I shouldn't get any closer. I should stop all contact now, and if I see him I should keep my guard up and not let him be the voice in the back of my head that leads me astray from the only path I've only known.
But his voice has also become so entangled with my own I know no matter what happens next his words will always echo throughout me.
I swallow before a sigh flutters from my dry lips. Preston might not have been charged and put away for the death of a boy but everyone knows he was involved. The Heirs never do anything alone. How are we to believe Nathaniel burned a house down all by himself?
Everyone has their suspicions of what went down that night but no one actually knows besides the four boys who were there. They said they weren't by their friend's side. They testified against him. They made sure he was sent away. So many little pieces to the puzzle that don't quite fit. It doesn't add up and everyone knows it.
But no one talks too loudly about it. We just whisper the rumors in the darkness and let them linger around us like some dirty little secret the town is desperate to wash their hands of.
A sharp headache grows from between my eyes and I sit up so fast I know I'm going to lose whatever still resides in my stomach. I rarely let myself drink like I did last night because I hate feeling out of control.
And last night I was completely out of control. And shame has struck me deeply because of it. I already know my parents are going to lecture me for my actions from the night before. They are going to say I ruined Aiden's night when his party went perfectly fine but to them I was the unwanted blemish who they wished would have disappeared.
My stomach curls and I move like lightning towards the bathroom and let out the contents of my stomach into the toilet.
I heave until I can't anymore and fall back against the wall for a moment as dark strands of hair stick to my clammy forehead.
Not only does my body feel like shit but so does my soul. Even with suspicion slithering through my veins my heart still aches at the way I treated Preston when he was only trying to help me.
Feeling a bit better I stand up from the ground and move to the sink to brush my teeth and rinse with mouthwash. I then run a brush through my tangled hair and toss it up into a quick ponytail.
I walk out of the bathroom and freeze instantly as my eyes land on the water bottle sitting on my nightstand. Because if I thought I felt terrible a minute ago I feel even worse now. Because it's not the bottle of water my eyes are locked in on.
It's the slender black box next to it with a small note set atop.
I hesitantly move forward almost as if my eyes can't believe what they are seeing. I reach out and run my fingertips over the smooth leather box as my eyes glance around me as if I expect someone to tear this away from my hands and laugh. I've seen boxes like this before, and I don't want to believe it but at the same time I know if anyone could do this Preston would be the one.
My mind wants to scream the doubts I have about him from the rooftop. The doubts created by my family and my friends and the rumors that have built him up. But my heart wants to push through all the bullshit and believe in him. Believe he actually wants what's best for me.
Believe he sees me.
Believe he could actually care for me.
With trembling hands my fingers crack open the box and a gasp lodges in my throat.
"You didn't..." I murmur to myself in shock.
Tears immediately gather in my eyes as I take in the name engraved on not only the sleek black pen but also on the inside of the box along with the scales of justice.
Jameson Alexander Henry Davenport
It's my grandfather's pen. The man I'm named after. The man who taught me how to tell time. The only man who my father feared.
I set it down gently before snatching the card to read.
Jameson,
Happy 21st birthday
This has always belonged to you and only you
Preston
And for the first time in a long, long time I let the tears in my eyes fall openly. I don't hold them back in fear of looking weak. I don't hold them back in attempts to feel stronger than I really do. I let them fall because in that singular moment I've never felt more grateful.
I feel seen and it's something that makes me cry even harder because it's so unfamiliar yet wonderful at the same time.
I never wanted to like Preston Rothwell. In fact I wanted to keep him at arm's length. But from the beginning he lured me in and crawled under my skin. He pisses me off and makes me angry but he also makes me feel bolder. Stronger. He never makes me feel small or crazy. Never.
And now he gives me this. To most it seems small or even insignificant, but to me it's everything. My father has kept most of my grandfather's possessions even though he hated the man. And he's only given them away to my brother when I was the one who had a real relationship with him.
But this. This is mine. I trace my trembling fingers gently over the weighted pen remembering the days I would watch him sign contract after contract. I loved watching him work. Aiden found it boring while I was enthralled by the intensity of his eyes and the passion behind his pen.
He was everything I wanted to become and more.
And no matter how small this pen is, it makes my heart grow in my chest and ignite the flame from within me.
The lecture that follows when I go downstairs and the evident disappointment in my parent's eyes doesn't even bother me because I have a piece of my grandfather.
And they can't take that away from me.
♢
I'm sitting in my international relations class but I can't focus. Everything the teacher is saying goes in one ear and out the other my brain refusing to absorb anything. I'm typing notes but they are half assed and for once my head isn't focused.
Because I'm distracted. By Preston. It's been a week since I've seen him but he's dug his way into my head and burrowed into heart and created a little home where he continues to take hold of my every waking thought.
And when I'm asleep he takes over there as well. I wake up covered in sweat and aching for the real thing. For a real touch. A real kiss. That night plays on repeat in my dreams but in it he doesn't pull away. No. It goes much, much further.
Preston Rothwell is taking up a plot of land in my mind that I can't afford to give away.
But after what I said and after what he gave me I can't help but let every thought fall his way.
My phone buzzes and my eyes fall to the screen to see a text from the devil himself.
He wants to meet to go over my last quiz and study especially with midterms right around the corner.
I tuck the phone under my desk and swipe my finger across the screen to reply but something inside me panics and suddenly I'm thrown back to that night. The night I pushed him away and called him a murderer. Embarrassment slithers throughout me like acid, slowly taking over and burning everything in its path.
How can I face him after that? Why would he even want to see me? What if it's different between us? What if he's cold?
A feeling I don't expect grips me tightly. It's fear. I'm scared of how he will act around me. I'm scared my words will change our relationship. I'm scared he could hate me.
My fingers continue to hover over the keyboard until I exit out of the app and lock my phone. I raise my attention back to the professor but I can't hear a word. My ears are ringing with shame and my chest feels too tight and I feel completely off balance and I hate it.
The moment class ends I gather my things and run out of the classroom, and I don't stop until I'm in my car and on my way back to my apartment. It's as if I can't breathe properly and the need be alone is so strong I feel like I might combust.
As soon as I enter my home I toss my backpack to the side and throw myself onto my bed. I close my eyes and force myself to slow my breathing and focus my thoughts on only one thing.
The most important thing.
Getting good grades and getting into law school.
A boy was never a part of my plan. And Preston Rothwell was definitely not anywhere near the plan I had all laid out. He came into my life unexpectedly and he's everything I know I should stay far, far away from.
My eyes squeeze shut as I try and push the thoughts of him far from my mind. I need to focus. I need to work and study hard. I need to not let anything or anyone get in my way. I can't let distractions take me off the road I've worked so hard to pave for myself.
"Knock knock."
The words make my eyes fly open and I jerk into an upright position to see Elizabeth standing in my doorway. She's dressed rather casually in a pair of leggings and an oversized white corduroy sweatshirt that makes her dark skin glow.
I'm not surprised to see her since she's been staying over at our apartment a lot more lately, and Annabelle gave her an extra key so she could come and go freely.
"Are you okay?" she asks as her arms cross over her chest and her eyes narrow in on me and I know I can't lie.
She'll see right through me like she always does. I like to believe I have a good poker face but from the beginning Elizabeth has never been fooled. It's like she has a sixth sense or rader to call out any bullshit. It's what will make her a great lawyer one day. She doesn't always call me out, which I'm extremely grateful for, but I know from the look in her brown eyes this isn't one of those moments.
I chew on the inside of my cheek thinking over her question for a minute and how exactly I should answer it.
"Jameson? Come on, what happened at your brother's party?" she pushes with suspicion clear in her eyes.
She almost catches me off guard with how spot on she is. Seriously can she read minds?
"Why do you think something happened there?" I ask rather defensively even though she's right. So right it fucking hurts.
She lifts a single eyebrow. "You've been weird ever since you came back," she states before her shoulders sag and her eyes soften. "I'm really sorry my cousin and I couldn't be there. My parents take our family reunions way too seriously."
I nod knowing it wasn't her fault or Annabelle's for not being there. I know they had other obligations and we celebrated just the three of us during the week anyways and it was perfect. It was before the awfully boring dinner with my parents and my brother's extravaganza. We celebrated with pizza, margaritas, and terrible karaoke.
And it was perfect.
But I can't lie after the party I did pull away from them just as I have Preston. Shame painted my skin and no matter how hard I washed I couldn't get clean and it made me even embarrassed to be around my friends.
Which I know is stupid. But it's also how I felt.
"No it's okay," I shake my head. "You would've hated it anyways," I attempt to laugh it off but it comes off awkward.
"I definitely wouldn't have hated seeing Everett," she smirks. "But you've been different," she continues as her eyes trail me with worry shining in them.
My fists clench before I blurt out, "I got drunk."
Her eyes widen and her mouth hangs agape. "Jameson Davenport tell me everything right fucking now!" she exclaims as she steps further into my room.
"I was just pissed off about the entire thing so I drank, a lot champagne, and then they gave a gift to Aiden that I really wanted and I got pissed off and drank more...but with Preston this time," I admit with a slight wince at the sound of his name coming off my lips.
"Shut up!" Elizabeth shouts before belly flopping onto my bed beside me and looking up at me with bright eager eyes. "Wait? Did something happen between you two?"
"Umm...no? Maybe. Kind of. I don't know," I trail out messily letting my head fall into my hands.
"Walk me through it James. Walk me through it."
''We were really drunk, or at least I was, and he walked me to my room and I couldn't get my zipper down on my dress so he helped me and before I knew it I tried to kiss him," I explain in a single breath.
"Holy shit! What happened next? Was it good? I bet it was good," Elizabeth chatters excitedly.
"No," I groan loudly. "Because he pushed me away and then I got embarrassed so I yelled at him." As soon as I say it my face flames as if I'm back there in that exact moment shouting the heated words.
"What did you say?" she asks tentatively as if once again she can read my mind.
"I called him a murderer," I whisper uncomfortably.
Elizabeth's nose scrunches. "Yeah, that probably wasn't the smoothest thing to say."
"Nope," I agree wholeheartedly. "And now he wants to meet up to study but I can't face him," I tell her with defeat written all over my face.
She shifts so she's sitting with her legs crossed next to me. "One, he's probably been called way worse. Actually I know for a fact that he has. Two, it will blow over I know it will," she says so matter of factly I almost believe her.
But apprehension weighs heavily on my tarnished soul.
"How can you know that Liz?" I ask skeptically.
Her smile widens with knowing clear in her eyes. "Because I've seen the way he looks at you."
"You're funny," I deadpan.
"I'm being serious James. It will blow over because he does care for you," she tells me with confidence.
A confidence I don't believe in.
Fear floods me and instead of hiding from it I ask the question that has been plaguing me for a while. "What if I'm one big game or joke?"
She shakes her head sharply. "You're not. But if you are I will kick his ass," she promises me with strength.
"Thank you," I say gently.
"For what?"
"For making me laugh. For making me feel better. Just for being a good friend," I say with a soft smile and tear lined eyes.
She winks. "Love you too bitch."
I release a pent up sigh. "Want to study together?"
"Sure," she shrugs, climbing off my bed.
We make our way into the living room and we put on some awful reality tv show Elizabeth loves but it's easy background sound and helps to ease some of my anxiety.
But I quickly realize I miss studying with Preston. He makes it fun with his banter and dark yet witty remarks.
He's fire and ice all in one. He can be standoffish but his eyes blaze when he's around me. He's powerful and when I'm around him I feel that way as well. He empowers me to be who I really am without apology. He doesn't try and put me in a box or hold me back.
He just wants me to be me. The very best version of me.
And the longer I surround myself with his darkness and let his heat infect me it's all I want and then some.