Page 24 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

“Outlaw.” His voice is like heavenly velvet sliding over me. I can’t hide my relief when my eyes flutter shut at the sound of his chosen nickname for me falling from his lips. He peers down at the rose as he closes his locker.

“I brought this for you,” I say, needing to clarify that it was for him and not given to me by someone else. As if I’m not desperate enough for his attention.

His tongue swipes over his lips and a small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. Dark brows pull down, hooding his eyes, but he takes the rose when I hand it to him. Holding it to his nose, he takes a whiff.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one that is supposed to bring you flowers.” He stops, staring at the petals when I want him to look at me and grinds his jaw. “I owe you fucking dozens.”

I shrug off his admission.

He steals what little I can see of his eyes from me when they fall shut and his jaw clenches harder, as if that shrug was everything he needed. I know what is going through his head, and I won’t let him go there.

“Stop. Stop thinking so much, Jester.” He nods and his lips are warm against my forehead. A knot swells in my throat, but I push it back. He doesn’t need my tears right now, just my strength.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he whispers.

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” I tease, and his smile is sad, but it’s there. Latching onto that, I step closer, encouraging his hands to find me. They rest tentatively on my waist and thoughts of that day against the door blink through my mind. A flush creeps up my neck and I shiver. It may have been one of the weirdest experiences of my life, but I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

If anything, it was damn hot.

“Fuck, Outlaw. I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you. If I could take it all back, I’d ask for a redo.” His touch is so glorious that I don’t have a chance to be skeptical over the sudden change in him. I knew coming in here I was playing with fire. That this time, if he turned me away, his eyes would really portray his words.

Sorry if I’m a little stunned at the switch of events. I held on to the hope that the roller coaster we were on was finally over with. That maybe we could be together. Not naïve by any means, just hoping that the back and forth is over with.

I don’t expect it to be easy. No one ever said love is easy, but if he lets me in, our love is going to be epic.

“We can’t. We can only move forward,” I say honestly.

“Alright,” he says and my heart gives a little pitter patter.

“Alright?”

“Let’s move forward. Can we please, you and me? Is it possible for us to move forward?” I cling to the desperation in his voice when I want to demand what exactly he means by that, to clarify if there is an “us” or not—exclusivity—but I also don’t want to push and have the conversation steer in the opposite direction in case he isn’t quite ready for that. So, I do the intelligent thing and kiss him.

I can feel his need, and my own is swelling to ridiculous proportions, but we don’t take the kiss any further than what is deemed publicly appropriate. I’m sure pictures will circulate and Jonas will know. Are we playing with fire being so public? Yeah, probably, but I don’t care. Jonas needs to learn I don’t want him. Still, the kiss curbs my craving for Riggs, seals our agreement to move on from our short past—solidifies his apology.

This kiss isn’t easy for him. Like a broken record, I can see the pain drowning him. But when he pulls away, backing up as if he needs to let me go or he won’t stop, he’s not angry or hesitant. I wouldn’t go as far to say he is confident, however, he seems optimistic and I love him for that.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” I ask, expecting him to leave for the day and trying not to get excited over the fact that he’s wearing his uniform and might be in class. He shakes his head.

“I’m going to physics, sitting right next to my girl if she’ll have me,” he says sheepishly. As if I would reject him. “Just give me time, okay? I won’t be perfect, like you deserve, but I’m going to try like hell. I promise you that. Just please be patient with me, yeah?”

“Patience isn’t my strong suit, but I’ll make it for you.” I take a chance and hold my hand out to him. He takes it in his and pulls me to his side. For a moment it feels so natural it’s insane, but then the butterflies start and a smile curves my lips. I love the butterflies with him.

“Deal.”

I sendRiggs a text when we part after physics—because I’m not ready to leave him—telling him that this isn’t over. That we are just getting started and reassuring him I want to be the person for him.

He doesn’t respond.

So now, I’m sulking at a table in the cafeteria with a salad loaded with chicken and a giant fountain soda—salad forgotten, soda half gone. Foxy rambles on about some assignment she has and how annoyed she is when Kai, Jensen, and Riggs join us.

Expecting him to sit away from me, because the last time we met in the cafeteria it was less than pleasant, I shift in my seat. J and Kai both greet their girl, one sitting on either side of her.

A tray lands on the table next to mine attached to long tattooed arms, and raggedy boots scuff the floor. Candied grapes float into my airspace and I suck in a huge lungful of my man, trying to hide just how excited I am that he’s here. A niggle of doubt has wormed its way into the back of my mind and I’m trying to push it aside.

This morning was too perfect for him to have changed his mind during class. He simply didn’t see the message. That has to be it.

I just wish we could gain confidence in our relationship that we both could keep without worrying about what the other is thinking. All we need is time, and I’ll have to keep reminding myself of that.

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