Page 50 of Jake Forever
Chapter 19
Looking at the image on his phone, I felt a surge of heat flash across my face. Maybe that was a good thing. If nothing else, I wasn't cold anymore.
Think positive, right?
I was looking at an image of me, rushing along that deserted city-street sometime within the last half-hour. In the picture, my hair was already soaked, and worse, so were my clothes.
Embarrassed by how I looked, I wanted to look away. But I didn't. Instead, I gave the picture a good, long look, taking in every detail – correction, everysordiddetail.
My low-cut, frilly white blouse was plastered to my skin in a way that was shockingly obscene. Through the thin, soaked fabric, I could see the clear outline of my lacy white bra, and worse, the faint pink circles of my nipples, embarrassingly erect, thanks to the cold – because let's face it, there had been nothing arousing aboutthatwhole experience.
My gaze dipped to the shorts. Obviously, the denim wasn't see-through – thank God – but the soaked fabric was plastered so tight to my skin that the shorts looked like they might've been painted on.
Overall, the effect was pretty darn disturbing. It's not that I looked bad, exactly. I mean, if I were alone with Jake, that was one thing. But to be out in public looking like that?
I looked like a party-girl of the paid variety.
Yikes.
But it's not like I'd planned it that way.
I was still staring at the picture when Jake abruptly pulled his phone away and said, "You got something you wanna tell me?"
No. I didn't. Not if he was going to ask like that.
And, besides, I had a question of my own. "How'd you get that picture?"
"You wanna know? Answer my question first."
"That's not fair," I said, feeling my own anger bubble to the surface. "I deserve to know how you got that."
In my mind, I saw hidden cameras and spies, lurking around every corner. Was Jake having me followed? And if so, why? Didn't he trust me?
Jake spoke again. "Are you gonna tell me or not?"
"I don't know." I crossed my arms and tossed his own words right back at him. "Are you gonna tellmeor not?"
Silently, he stared down at me, looking like he wanted to hit something. I wasn't worried, not about that. But if I were someone else, like a guy for example, the look on Jake's face would be ringing all kinds of alarm bells.
I paused. Alarm bells – that made me realize something. Jake had just hit the elevator's stop button. Probably, somewhere downstairs, alarm bells were ringing for real.
I glanced toward the elevator's control panel. "You wanna talk? Fine. But let's talk at your place, okay?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know who the fuck's there. That's why."
I drew back, startled by his language. Sure, I'd heard that word before, plenty of times – from Jakeandfrom my own lips. But if he thought that cursing at me now was going to get him the answers he wanted, he had another thing coming.
I gave him my snottiest smile. "So we have company? Who the fuck is it?"
He wasn't amused. "What do you want? An apology?" His tone grew sarcastic. "Does my language offend you?"
Did it? Not really, except when he sounded so mad.
I didn't know what to say, so I shrugged and left it at that. Lethimfigure it out. And if he did, maybe he could tell me, because I was so confused I could hardly think.
