Page 34 of Jake Forever
"Go where?" I said. "Truth-land? Yeah. I do." My voice rose. "Because for once, I just want a straight answer. Why is that so hard?"
Slowly, he moved closer until we were once again, almost touching. Towering over me, he said in a very quiet voice. "I'll tell you why. It's because you're not me."
"What doesthatmean?"
He lowered his head the barest fraction. "It means that if I want to stop somebody from doing something, it's a hell of a lot easier for me than it is for you."
I knew what he was getting at. Yeah, he was bigger than me. And stronger than me. By a lot.
And yeah, he was something else, a lot more brutal than I could ever be on my worst day. From watching some of his videos, I knew how quickly his easy demeanor could morph into something different, something just shy of deadly. Or worse.
I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.
In front of me, Jake lowered his head another fraction. "You wanna compare?" he said. "Take me and that girl. If she were a threat to me – which she wasn't – I could've handled her in a heartbeat."
I wasn't following. "How?"
"I'm not gonna go there, because she wasn't." His voice grew a shade darker. "But if I see some guy, with you, giving you the kind of attention you don't want…" His jaw clenched. "…touching you when you don't want to be touched, putting his lips or his hands, or anything else on you, when he doesn't have your okay." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm not gonna let that stand."
At something in his voice, I felt a shiver go straight through me. I didn't know what to say. Should I argue? Part of me felt like I should. But that would be like arguing for the wind not to blow or the sun not to shine, because Jake was Jake. And I knew, just by looking at him, that he meant every word.
Still, I couldn’t let it go, not completely.
I'd never been a fan of possessive guys. In college, I'd had this roommate whose boyfriend was practically a stalker. He checked her phone and read her texts. He followed her in secret and threatened her friends. And if she so much as smiled at another guy, he found some reason to start a fight, sometimes with her, sometimes with the guy.
It was sad, really. It was even sadder when, after months of creepy craziness, she caught him in bed with her best friend – twice. And even afterwards, long after they'd broken up, they guy still wouldn’t leave her alone.
But that wasn't Jake. Was it? I didn't want to ask, but suddenly, I felt like I had to. In a halting voice, I said, "So let's say for whatever reason, we break up—"
"We're not going to."
I prayed he was right. Life without Jake? I didn't even want to think about it. "I know," I said, "but just for the sake of argument—"
"What are you asking?" he said. "If I see you with some other guy, am I gonna kick his ass?"
"Well, I wouldn’t have put it quitethatway."
"Uh-huh." He gave me a hard look. "In this scenario of yours, are we together? Or apart?" He leaned a fraction closer, and I swear, I could feel the heat of his emotions radiating off him.
Or maybe that was just me.
And yet, I gave another shiver. My neck felt stiff, and my mouth went dry. Still, I managed to croak out, "Um, apart?"
Abruptly, he pulled away. "If we're apart, you do what you want. There. We good now?" Before I could answer, he turned away and started striding toward the elevator.
"Hey!" I called after him. "Where are you going?"
He didn't answer. He just kept on going, and he wasn't looking back.
"Jake!" I called. "Seriously. Stop."
Finally, he stopped and slowly turned around. "Why?"
"Because we're not done. That's why."
"We're done enough."
Frustrated, I strode toward him and said, "But where are you going? Upstairs?"
