Page 19 of Wild Fixation
“We’ll be fine.”
He shoots one more worried glance at Jacob, then apparently decides I’ll make good on my promise and shuts the door. The car pulls away, abandoning me in the sudden silence of an empty street at an ungodly hour of the morning. I dare a look downward.
Jacob is nuzzled against my chest, his arms around me, his eyes closed like he could sleep standing in the middle of the street. I gently reposition him so my arm is around his waist, but he leans heavily against me as we stumble toward the door of his apartment.
“I need your key,” I say.
It both terrifies and thrills me how quickly he hands it over. Terrifies me because if I was someone else, anyone else, I could be taking advantage of him. Thrills me because I’m not anyone else, and part of me knows Jacob realizes that.
I swipe his key to call the elevator. He groans when I get him inside, but I stand in the corner and let him lean against me, his entire body supported by mine. His eyes remain closed, his head resting on my arm. His soft, wavy hair brushes against my skin. I never knew it was so soft. It looks soft, but the feel of it is like feathery down drifting over my skin.
“I just wanted to have a birthday,” he groans.
I don’t respond, but he goes on anyway.
“I wanted to dance. I wanted to have a fun birthday. I used to have fun birthdays. Why can’t I have a birthday like a normal person?”
His words are slurred, his speech slow and repetitive. I shouldn’t bother answering, but I do.
“You aren’t a normal person anymore.”
He groans, burying himself more firmly against my arm. “I wanted to make music. I didn’t want all this stuff. I didn’t want to not have birthdays anymore.”
I’m struggling to find sympathy for the rich, talented, famous musician clinging to me. Very few people get to live their dreams, let alone profit from them the way Jacob will. Still, his distress is real.
“Sometimes we can’t have all the things we want,” I say.
He finally looks up at me then, hazel eyes bright with booze. His gaze is strangely steady, however, steady enough that I stiffen with dread.
“No,” he says, abruptly lucid, “I guess we can’t.”
I look away, mostly because I’m scared he won’t, and that gaze is piercing me down to my soul. If I look too long, Jacob will pry every thought, every secret desire, every unworthy wish right out of my skull. I stare at the wall instead, and hope he didn’t notice.
The elevator bings, letting us out onto a floor that contains only one apartment — his. I help him to the door, but he fumbles while trying to unlock it, and I end up having to do it for him. Shit, he’s not going to be able to take care of himself tonight. I don’t know why I ever believed my job would end at his door, but as he nearly trips over his own feet getting inside, it’s clear my evening has only just begun.
I kick the door shut behind us, my arm still occupied with Jacob, then let him lead the way. He doesn’t bother with the lights as he weaves through his own apartment. We hit a couch, then a counter, but eventually he shoves open a door that leads to his bedroom. I try not to fixate on that fact as I help him to his bed and deposit him on the mattress. He sprawls across it, his hair a beautiful mess, his jacket open to expose the mesh shirt beneath it. He flops there for a moment, then blinks and seems to realize for the first time that I’m standing over him.
“Hey,” he says, a giddy smile stealing across his mouth.
My heart lurches in my chest like a runner committing a false start. That bright, brilliant, easy smile picks at the things clenched inside me like deft fingers opening a lock, and I’m terrified of what they could unleash.
“You need water,” I say.
I turn away before Jacob can object, hurrying out of his room. I struggle to find the kitchen in this big, dark apartment. There’s so much empty space everywhere, as though no one lives here at all. It suddenly feels very lonely with only Jacob in it. I can’t help picturing him here alone day after day, cut off from the rest of the world. He’s isolated for his own safety, yes, but there’s something perverse in that when it applies to a person who attracts others the way he does. Everyone feels the magnetism when he’s near. It isn’t just me. Anyone would succumb to that smile, that easy familiarity. Jacob has a way of making anyone he looks at feel like they’re the only person in the world.
I grope my way along the counter, opening the refrigerator so the light from inside can guide me. Glasses are easy enough to locate, as is the faucet, but there’s one more thing I want, and I use my phone’s flashlight to find it. When I return to the bedroom, I’m carrying not just water, but two ibuprofens as well. He’ll thank me in the morning.
Jacob has curled up on his side in the time since I’ve left him. He’s also tossed aside his jacket and shirt, leaving him bare-chested. I set that knowledge carefully aside as I place the water and medicine on the nightstand next to the bed and sit gingerly on the mattress.
“Hey, can you sit up?”
Jacob groans at me. I sigh inwardly, bracing myself before I roll him gently onto his back. He blinks up at me like he forgot I was here in the span of time while I searched for water and medicine. Then that smile is back.
“You?” he says.
“Me,” I say. “Can you sit up?”
This time, he goes willingly, shuffling up with his back propped against the headboard. I hand him the water and medicine.
