Headfirst Falling Page 12

  I stomp down the hallway, stopping at her door. “Give me my phone back,” I demand.

  “Go to bed,” she says, her voice muffled by the door.

  I roll my eyes and trudge the rest of the way to my room. I sit in the middle of my bed, wide awake and wound up. Naturally, I obsess. That’s how I fall asleep thinking about Jackson, and it’s probably the reason I dream about him too.

  * * *

  I catch up with all my work around noon the next day. I put away the last of the inventory report with joy. Hopefully I won’t see another one of those for a while. I’ll have to have a little discussion with Stewart about this. If he weren’t so strange I wouldn’t be procrastinating, but he is, so I am. I should send him an email. That’s better than being alone with him in his office. Or my office. Or anywhere.

  I’m unpacking my lunch when Jackson pops into my office. “Hey!”

  The supply-room kiss pops into my head and I blush, because it isn’t the first time I’ve thought about it today. “Hi.”

  “I thought we could have lunch together.” His mouth lifts into an easy, crooked smile, and it really makes me want to kiss him.

  I’m just about to decline, because I packed my lunch. But mainly because being alone with him in my office sort of scares me, especially now that I’m sober. He brings a brown bag from behind his back, and it’s so cute that my heart melts a little. “Of course. Sit,” I say, motioning to the chair on the other side of my desk.

  He obliges, pulling his lunch from the brown bag. “My mom packed this for me, you know?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Peanut butter sandwich?”

  “Turkey and cheese, actually.”

  I pull out my own and hold it up. “Turkey and ham and cheese.”

  “Impressive.” He grins, and I feel myself mimicking him. This feels normal, more like us. Thank goodness.

  His sandy hair has grown an inch or so since his homecoming celebration and is lightly styled. It’s somehow perfectly in place while maintaining a facade of messiness. He’s dressed in slate-gray slacks, and his blue shirt makes his eyes look insane. The top two buttons are casually undone, and I can see a small patch of skin at the base of his throat. I have to actively think about keeping my eyes on his face and not his chest.

  We talk about work as we eat. He’s catching on quickly. And it seems to be a good thing for my dad, having someone around who reminds him of Adam, someone he can teach. I’m not sure how confident I am in Dad’s teaching skills, but at least he’s enjoying Jackson’s company.

  When we finish I gather our trash, clearing my desk. “So...” I prompt, returning to my seat.

  His hand is propped under his chin, index finger resting over his upper lip like he’s in deep thought as he watches me. “Shall we address the elephant in the room?”

  My heart drops. I would rather not, but I know it’s necessary. “Okay.”

  “Can I just start by saying that I’m a royal idiot, and I felt awful when I read your message? I didn’t stay because of work the next morning, and I thought you were mad at me, and I didn’t want to make things worse by being there when you woke up...” His words are hurried as he rushes them out.

  “Can I just start by saying that I’m a royal idiot for acting the way I did? I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you like that or made you feel obligated to stay.”

  “No. You shouldn’t apologize. That night was...” He stops himself, his eyes moving across my face as he searches for the right word. “Something else. You don’t realize how much I wanted to do that with you. How much I still want to do that with you. But I would have never forgiven myself, given your state and your...um, situation.”

  Right. The virgin situation. Why does this make me feel like such an outcast? It’s not a bad thing. Surely other twenty-one-year-old virgins still exist in this world. I shouldn’t be cast out of society for it.

  “It’s okay.” I laugh. “I understand.”

  “Good, because it’s been hell, this not-talking-to-you thing.” He looks down at the ground and rubs the back of his neck. He’s nervous, which makes me want to launch myself over my desk at him.

  “I’ve been miserable,” I admit.

  “Good.”

  Is he kidding? “Good?”

  He grins, shaking his head. “Not good. I mean, it just seemed like you were carrying on, unaffected by all of this.”

  “Well, I wasn’t.” I was being awkward and avoiding you, obviously.

  He leans forward in his seat. “Let me take you out tomorrow. We can start over.”

  “Like a date?” I’ve never been on an official date with him. The closest thing to a date I’ve had with Jackson was sneaking into the movie theater or his room in the middle of the night. He was dating Mary Jane and couldn’t be seen with me in public. Talk about romantic.

  “Yes, a date. Our first official one ever.” His eyes gleam, and the sparks of green shine brightly against the blue. They’re magnificent, hypnotizing really. And distracting.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I ask. “It sounds emotional and messy.”

  His lips turn up in a shy, lopsided smile. “I want to try and have something more with you, Charlie.”

  How could he say he’s incapable of emotion? He sits here in front of me, so raw and open, and that’s all the promise I need. This immovable object just became putty in Jackson’s hands.

  Chapter Eight

  I ride the elevator up to the ninth floor, particularly energized this morning. In my hands I tote Starbucks for all...well, not everyone. I stop at Jessica’s desk in reception to hand over her vanilla latte.

  She smiles and yawns, her eyes still tired with the morning. “Thanks. I needed this today.”

  I set the cardboard carrier on the edge of her desk and pull the cup marked with my name away from the remaining two. “I’m with you on that.”

  “You know, my mother says that behind every brilliant woman is a substantial amount of caffeine.” She smiles, looking wistful.

  I laugh. “Well, your mother must be very wise.”

  “She is.”

  I take a sip from the steaming cup and prop my hip against the wall beside her desk. “You excited about tonight?”

  I’m setting her up with one of Devin’s friends from college. His name is Asher, and I’m confident she’ll have a great time with him. He’s always a complete gentleman, and according to Devin, he’s intelligent. They’ll get along wonderfully.

  She grins, giddy. “I’m so excited. A little nervous though. I tore my closet apart last night, trying to find something to wear.”

  “You could wear a sack and he’d still be drooling.”

  “You’re delirious.” She shakes her head, but her brown eyes are shining. “Or maybe you need glasses.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re the one who needs glasses.”

  “I have twenty-twenty vision,” she deadpans. Then we both giggle over nothing at all, like schoolgirls in the back of the classroom.

  “Charlie! Are you letting my coffee get cold?” yelps my dad from his office.

  I roll my eyes and wave goodbye to her.

  “You’re bossy,” I singsong, breezing through his open door.

  He gives his usual goofy grin. “You know I hate cold coffee, cook.”

  “I got you a hazelnut latte,” I say, not that he cares. If it tastes decent, he’s happy.

  He takes a sip and looks up at the ceiling in thought, swishing it as he tastes. “It’s good.”

  “I know.”

  “What’d you get?” he asks as his eyes drift to the cup in my hand. I know what he’s after.

  “Chai tea latte. You wouldn’t like it.” And I’m selfish when it comes to caffeine.

  He shrugs, b
elieving me.

  “How’d your appointment go the other day?” I ask. I’m trying for casual, but my voice comes out sounding eager.

  He stills, either trying to remember what I’m referencing or stalling. Either way, it isn’t normal behavior for him. “It went fine,” he says finally, spinning his chair to face his computer.

  “What was it for?” I press.

  “Nothin’, Charlie.” He dismisses the question with the backward wave of his hand.

  “Alright,” I say, resolving to let it drop. “You know where to find me.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He shoos me over his shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  I stop at Jackson’s office last. He’s at his desk, already engrossed in his work.

  “Hey,” I say, knocking on his ajar door.

  He glances up from his work, and a warm smile spreads across his face. “Morning, Charlie.”

  I hand over his cup. “Your Americano.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” And it is. I’ll drop three bucks on a cup of coffee any day if it gives me an excuse to be in his office.

  He pushes the spreadsheet in front of him to the side and props his elbows on the edge of the desk. Being Friday, he sports a casual outfit, dark jeans with a red polo tucked in at his slim waist. Always so clean and well dressed. Yeah, a three-dollar cup of coffee is definitely worth getting a look at him.

  I cannot wait for our date. “So tonight...”

  He raises a brow like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “Tonight?”

  “Our date,” I prompt.

  “Our date?”

  “Jackson!”

  His face breaks into a huge grin. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  * * *

  I’m in the file room in the worst possible position when someone sneaks up behind me—bent way over, ruffling through a stack of papers.

  “Hello to you too, Charlie.”

  I snap up the instant Stewart’s annoying twang reaches my ears, then whip around to face him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” I bark, irritated that he’s gotten such a good view.

  He steps toward me, much too close for comfort. He isn’t touching me, but his proximity makes me uneasy. “You make it so easy. How can I not?” His smile is wolfish with a touch of arrogance. Creepy.

  “Can I help you with something, Stewart?” I ask, my voice short and clipped.

  His eyes trail down the length of my body, making a slow and deliberate path. It sends shivers down my spine. Something about the way he’s looking at me is different than ever before. He’s never crossed the line, but somehow I know he’s going to cross it today...one way or another. And that won’t sit well with me.

  “You look lovely today,” he says, eyes traveling back to my face.

  I take a step back and bump into the cabinet behind me.

  “You’ve got nowhere to run.” Something about the way he says it makes it sound like a challenge.

  I must not let him intimidate me. “Get away from me.”

  He lifts an arm and touches my arm. The dress I have on is sleeveless, and he’s touching bare skin. He brushes the pad of his thumb along the curve of my shoulder. It’s rough and calloused. My blood recoils in response.

  “I’d like to have your company tonight,” he says.

  I step away from his hands in a jerky movement. “I don’t care what you would like. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  He laughs under his breath, barely making any noise. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”

  “You’re making me uncomfortable, Stewart.” I make sure my voice is clear. That I say it so there is no possible way he can ignore it. “You’ve got five seconds to give me some space.”

  He leans in until we’re only a breath away. He’s almost a head taller, and I’m eye level with his chin. I can smell his aftershave; it’s musky and overpowering. He needs to back up.

  He turns his head when he speaks. “I like it when girls are frisky.” His lips brush against my temple and his jaw grazes my cheek. “They’re always the best in bed.”

  Something inside me snaps. Line officially crossed. “You’re disgusting,” I say through gritted teeth. “Stay away from me.”

  “I always get what I want.” He takes a step back. “And I want you.”

  I can feel his aggression, and I can see it in his eyes. It gives me the same sinking sensation I had with Dave. “Are you threatening me?”

  He laughs, but it holds no humor. “No. I’m educating you.”

  If intimidation is his game...two can play. I take a confident step toward him, getting right in his face as he did to me, and narrow my eyes. “You will never touch me again. I’ll make you pay if you do.” And although my tone is steady and calm, there’s a sharp edge underneath that tells him to back off. Now.

  I push past him and stalk to the door, then I yank it open and slam it behind me as loud as I can manage.

  I barrel back to my office and slam that door as well. At my desk, I fume, my hands clenched into tight fists. It’s not until now that I realize I’m shaking...that my entire body is shaking. I’m livid, and I want to punch Stewart in the face. I settle for banging my fists on the desk once, and then once more.

  “I am sick of his shit,” I rant aloud. Even though he barely touched me, that was harassment, and I’m not going to let it slide by. If I let it slide, it’s going to happen again. To me. To Jessica. To the next girl. I can’t let that happen, because who knows which line he’ll cross next?

  My computer pings in repetition as message notifications pop across my screen.

  Pat Day: Is everything alright, Charlie? You sure seem to be huffin and puffin.

  My stomach does a nervous flip. I know I need to tell him what just happened, and he’s going to be mad as hell.

  Charlie Day: I’ll be in to talk to you in a minute.

  The next message is from Jessica. My fingers are pounding the keys with such intensity, the noise echoes through my quiet office.

  Jessica White: You okay? I heard you leave the file room, saw Stewart leave after.

  Charlie Day: I hate him!

  Jessica White: Join the club... What happened?

  Charlie Day: He’s just disgusting. We’ve got to get him out of here.

  Jessica White: I agree.

  The last message is from Jackson.

  Jackson Stiles: What’s going on?

  Charlie Day: Stewart is a fucking creep.

  Seconds later the adjoining door between our offices pops open. I blink in shock. I’d forgotten it was even there.

  The veins in his neck are bulging beneath the skin, so I know he’s mad as hell. His voice grinds out, hard and rough. “What did he do?”

  I take a deep breath, shaking out my hands, and let it out. “He just cornered me in the—”

  “Did he touch you?” he interrupts, forcing it out as if they’re forbidden words.

  “No—well, yes, he touched my face. It was more what he said, though,” I explain. “I felt like he was threatening me.”

  He begins to pace back and forth, wearing a hole in the carpet and balling his hands into tight fists. “I could wring his neck.”

  “Calm down.” I try to be soothing, even though there’s nothing more I’d rather see than Jackson teaching Stewart a lesson. But that wouldn’t solve anything.

  He stops in front of my desk, and his gaze flicks to my trembling hands. He closes his eyes and shakes his head like the sight causes him physical pain. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  “Jackson.” I stand and put my hand on his shoulder. As soon as I touch him it stops shaking. “I’m okay. Honestly. I can handle this.”

  His entire frame is rigid. “
I don’t trust him.”

  “I don’t either, but I can take care of this. I’ll talk to my dad about it. Right now.”

  He nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s on board.

  “Go back to your office and calm down,” I say. “I don’t want this to ruin the day. First official date tonight, remember?”

  There’s a tiny smile on his lips but his eyes are still cloudy and heated. “Okay. Let me know how it goes.” He casts me one last uncertain glance before returning to his office.

  As I walk to my dad’s office I devise a plan. Plan A, get Stewart fired. Plan B, let Jackson pound Stewart’s squinty, smug face in. Plan C is illegal. Our business could survive without Stewart. He’s been with my dad since the beginning and brought along a lot of customers. But we’ve really built our client base over the years. And if firing Stewart causes us to lose some major clients, then so be it. We’ll still survive.

  My dad studies me with a concerned expression as I enter. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

  I shut the door behind me and take a seat across from him. “It’s Stewart,” I say point-blank. “He’s awful.”

  “I know.” His eyes are already wary. “What’s he done?”

  “He’s harassing. He cornered me in the file room and said some very inappropriate things about how I would be...in bed.” I swallow the knot in my throat and continue, “I won’t go into details, but I know he’s been doing this to Jessica too—I just know.”

  Silence swoops into the room, making the air heavy. His face gets red and he draws both of his hands into tight fists. The pencil he’s holding in his right hand snaps beneath the pressure, and anger rolls off of him waves. If his hat wasn’t shading the whites of his eyes, I imagine they would be red. “That sorry son of a bitch! I could just—”

  “Dad.” I reach out and take his hands in mine. “Chill. We need to keep our emotions under control.”