Page 156 of Withered

I’m not going to lie; Professor Caleb looks great in a tux, but no one compares to Jake. Even when he isn’t around, my mind envisions him in a tux. Maybe I should call him. I am angry at Jake, but I’m also worried. What if he got into a fight with someone?

Caleb is not just attractive; he is also a skilled dancer. He's merely holding my hand because it’s a fast-paced sound. We’re only a few minutes into the song, and he’s already made me feel at ease. I’m chuckling after a few twirls.

My laughter is short-lived because Caleb is forced away from me.

“What the hell?” I exclaim, looking over to see Jake clad in a tuxedo.

Something about him looks different, though. I don’t have time to think about it because he grabs my arm and drags me out of there.

He walks and stops until we are out of earshot, standing at the railing and facing the shore.

“Why the hell were you dancing with him?” Jake barks; his eyes are cold, and his voice is even colder.

“If you were here with me, he wouldn’t be with me in the first place. You left me with no choice.”

“Why him?” Jake growls.

I clench my hands at my sides. “Fine. I’m going to go around and dance with random strangers. Maybe you’ll notice me then.”

“Even without them,” Jake sighs, “it would be impossible not to notice you.”

My pent-up anger has taken over every fiber in my body. “Where did you go?” Jake remains silent, his gaze fixed on my face, so I add, “Huh?”

Jake rakes his fingers through his hair. “I was out taking care of something. I knew I’d make it on time, but still, I said I wouldn’t so you wouldn’t get hurt.”

I grit my teeth. “What is this thing you’re taking care of? Either way, I was hurt. Do one thing, keep taking care of that something, and forget about me.”

I try to flee, but he grabs my wrist and drags me back, caging me against the railing. “Forget you? Never going to happen, forget that.”

I roll my eyes. Jake pinches my arm and I yelp in pain. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. It’s fucking true.”

“Your words don’t match your actions,” I say.

He keeps staring at me, smirking for god knows what reason. “You look gorgeous.”

“Don’t distract me.” I hiss at him. Despite my anger at him, his compliment warms my heart. “Where were you? Tell me.”

He leans closer, his breath fanning my face and his masculine woodsy aroma filling my nostrils, making my head dizzy. He is clouding my judgment.

I stare into his green eyes, which are looking down at me passionately.

“Look into my pocket, you’ll find your answer,” he whispers in my ear.

He leaves my wrist and I put my hand in his tuxedo pocket. I find something and dig it out. A little box almost half the size of my palm greets me.

“Open it,” he whispers, too close for my liking.

I open it to find a lovely necklace. “It’s beautiful,” I mumble, taking the piece out.

“Thank you,” I mutter, looking up at him.

He pulls it from the box, spins me around, and clasps it around my neck. I turn, “I’m so angry right now, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or throw you off this railing.”

“If you’re angry at me, shouldn’t I be the one to choose?” Jake smirks at me, leaning again.

His lips brush mine in a matter of seconds, and I let him. This is becoming a tiresome cycle for us. We fight and then make out instead of makeup. His lips are gentle at first, but he quickly becomes ravenous. His hand wraps around my waist, drawing me closer and closing the gap between us. My lips part because I want him just as much as he wants me. His tongue snakes inside, exploring every inch, and even though I’m upset at him and arguing with him, this part feels perfect.

We part ways, and Jake rests his forehead on mine. “Did I mention you look stunning?”

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