Page 46 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

I look at Jackson, and he’s already fixed on me. “What?” I ask.

He raises his eyebrows with feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Rolling my eyes, I take the pillow next to me and toss it on the floor before getting to my feet and rummaging through the closet.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Jackson asks. My back is turned as I push up on my tiptoes, craning my neck over a stack of old board games. I hear a soft thud and assume he’s taken a seat on the bed.

This was definitely Emmet’s old bedroom. There are still high school jerseys and shirts hanging in the closet, along with a stack of old comic books and a bunch of other junk. “Looking for an extra blanket.”

“Why?”

I look over my shoulder, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, watching me. My cheeks heat. By the way his eyes just jumped up to meet mine, I have a feeling he was staring at my ass. “For you.”

He cocks an eyebrow but says nothing.

I fill in the gaps for him. “So you can sleep on the floor . . .”

Jackson drops his gaze, letting out a breath of laughter. When his eyes meet mine again, there’s that familiar challenge brewing behind them. “What makes you think I’m the one sleeping on the floor?”

I let out a huff, turning to face him. “It’s not like we’re actually going to sleep in the bed together.”

He gets to his feet. “Fine by me, but it’s your ass who’s sleeping on Emmet’s old carpet. Who knows what happened on these floors.”

My eyes fall to the floor. It looks clean, but the image he painted is enough to make me recoil. He walks around to the other side of the bed with the remaining pillow and lies with his back against the headboard, crossing one ankle over the other. Unbelievable.

I huff. “You can’t be serious.”

He stretches an arm overhead. “Do I look like I’m joking, Red?”

I take in his mussed hair, striking eyes, and chiseled jaw. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a black T-shirt, and he looks good. “You look delusional,” I mutter under my breath as I snatch the pillow off the floor. “You know, this isn’t very chivalrous of you.” Clutching the pillow to my chest, I wait and hope he’ll have a change of heart.

“I never claimed to be anyone’s knight in shining armor.” He doesn’t even look at me until a moment passes and I still haven’t taken a step toward the bed. “Well, what’s it going to be, Red? I promise I don’t bite.” The corner of his mouth lifts and there’s a devilish glint in his eye. “Unless I’m asked very nicely.”

A rush of heat threatens to incinerate the walls I’ve built to keep the likes of Jackson out. Even as I narrow my eyes and say, “Gross,” my body betrays me. The picture he just painted makes it harder to breathe, and I have to force an inhale to get back on track.

His smile only widens, and I hope he can’t see what’s happening beneath the surface. He pats the bed beside him. “You might as well get comfortable. We’ve got all night.”

I stare at the spot on the mattress next to him, debating if the floor might be a better option. If I do sleep on the floor, he’ll know he got to me. He’ll know he has power over me, and that’s enough to make me step toward him. Everything with Jackson is like a game of chicken, and I refuse to lose.

Getting into bed, I rest my back against the headboard, crossing my arms in defiance. “Just so you know, if I kick you in my sleep, I’m not sorry, and it probably wasn’t an accident.”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his bent knees as he carelessly flips his phone with one hand. “It could be worse, you know.”

I fixate at his hand, tossing his phone. It’s like everything he does annoys me. “Not likely.”

A slow smile forms on his lips. “You could be spending the night with Emmet,” he says dryly. Then his hand stills and he looks over at me with a gasp. “Or Keith.”

I bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from laughing. “I’d take either of them over you.”

He holds up his phone. “Want me to call Emmet? He’d probably rush back here in ten minutes if he knew you were interested.” His eyes fall to my phone on the bed in front of us. “Oh wait,” he says like he’s piecing together a fun puzzle. “He gave you his number. So, why don’t you let him know you’d rather be in bed with him tonight?”

Snatching up my phone, I snap, “Maybe I will.” As I unlock the screen, I have no intention of texting Emmet, but I go to my contacts, anyway. Jackson’s stare burns into me. I know I’m being ridiculous, and I know he knows I’m being ridiculous. It makes me want to let out a frustrated groan, but instead, I eye him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

The corner of his mouth teases an amused smile. “Waiting for you to not text Emmet.”

Slamming my phone down on the bed, I turn to face him. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” he asks, unconcerned.

---