Home every night, he did go. I enjoyed spending time with him and not feeling guilty, but I couldn’t let go. My mind wouldn’t let me move on yet, and I wanted to scream. It unnerved me after hearing how Jackson had our life kind of planned out before, a plan that never had a chance. He saw it, too—we were stuck in the past, and I didn’t think I could move forward until I faced it. Until we both faced it.

  We met in the Student Union one night after Jackson finished an early practice.

  “Jackson, I need to ask you a huge favor.” His faced dropped. I pouted, missing his beautiful smile. Bring it back. “Well, I’ve been thinking about the Victim’s Advocate thing, and I might have a better perspective if I went to the frat house.”

  The light in his eyes went away, and he sat back and crossed his arms across his chest. I needed to keep him with me. I reached out and squeezed his arm.

  “Why do you want to go there?”

  “I need to see if I’m really okay to talk about this, or if I’m just waiting for the bomb to drop. I feel safer doing it with you by my side.”

  “Carrington, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I know it’s crazy, but I feel like I have to see it. Let’s head in that direction, and if it’s too weird, we won’t go.”

  He released his crossed arms and exhaled. I grabbed his hand and held it to my chest. A little color returned to his face as I became aware of his hand touching my breast. The feeling was so comforting and so familiar. Lately, he seemed afraid to move any further; maybe this would help him too.

  “Okay.”

  We headed toward the west side of campus, down fraternity row. Our steps slowed the closer we got to the house. The Phi Kappa Pi house sat on the middle of the block. It was the grandest of the fraternity houses, rich with money and tradition. It was Josh’s fraternity, and Mr. Griffin’s fraternity as well.

  When we arrived at the house, the color had drained from Jackson’s face, again. He seemed more hesitant about returning to the house than me.

  I shook our clasped hands.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s weird, you know.”

  “Are we allowed to go in, even though you don’t live here?”

  “Yeah, technical I’m still in the fraternity; it’s my house, too.”

  Brandon walked out the front door with two other guys when we made it to the porch. He blinked twice at us but regained his composure and greeted us.

  “Hey, Carrington. What are you doing here?” He shook hands with Jackson. “J.”

  “Hey, B,” Jackson said. “You mind if we look around the house for a minute?”

  Brandon looked at me for reassurance, and I nodded my head.

  “Sure. You guys want me to stick around?”

  “No, it’s okay. We won’t bother anything. We want to see what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Okay. It’s your house, too. You’re always welcome. I’ll see you in class, Carrington.”

  “Thanks, Brandon.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  Brandon stepped off the porch and headed toward campus. Jackson headed toward the door and pulled me along with him. He seemed overanxious to get this over with.

  We entered the foyer. The main living area had been painted and the kitchen off the back of the house opened into the living room and spilled out onto a deck with a barbecue pit in the backyard. The staircase on the left side of the foyer curved up to the second floor to the bedrooms. It was the only thing I recognized.

  “So, here we are,” Jackson said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, the place looks different.”

  “They remodeled most of it that summer.”

  “Let’s go into the game room.”

  A few of Jackson’s fraternity brothers greeted him as we wandered around the house, but none of them stopped us or inquired as to why we were here. I didn’t recognize anyone, but I had the feeling they recognized me.

  The game room was a long rectangular room with a loft along the back wall. The loft opened up onto the second floor and led to the bedrooms from the back of the house. During parties, students entered from the side door and the rest of the house was cut off unless a brother accompanied you. We headed up to the loft, and I stopped to look over the balcony. I didn’t remember ever being in this room when it wasn’t full of people.

  My face felt hot remembering my first party at PKP. I had danced with and grinded on too many PKP brothers to count. Not my finest moment as a freshman.

  “What about Josh’s room?”

  “I think they turned it into a gym.”

  I followed Jackson through the back door of the loft. More memories of my first time in the frat house came rushing back. The first night I stayed in the house, Jackson was the first person I saw at six am the next morning. He joked that I was allowed at least one walk of shame per semester.

  I slowed down as we approached Josh’s room.

  “You sure you’re up for this.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. I coughed and said louder, “Yes. I’m fine.”

  We entered Josh’s room, and I held my breath, expecting a dramatic impact to hit me in the face, but the only thing that hit me was the smell of sweat. The room didn’t resemble Josh’s room in the slightest. I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t know if I was disappointed or what, but I wanted it to have an effect on me. Something I could feel to say that it happened and I was over it, but I felt nothing. Jackson blinked his eyes as he surveyed the room.

  He faced me. “What’s wrong? You look weird.”

  “I don’t know what I expected, but I don’t feel anything.” I squeezed his hand. “Do you?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel. It happened to you.”

  “I remember the look on your face that day when you kneeled down next to me and encouraged me to hold on. What happened to me in the room, it happened to you, too.”

  He tried to blink back tears, but this time a few escaped. “I don’t want to get into this now. Not here.”

  “Let’s go somewhere else.”

  “Come on.” He walked out the room, but instead of heading back down the stairs, he knocked on the next door. No one answered and he tried the handle and it opened. He grabbed my hand and we walked into his old bedroom.

  “You finally got me alone in your room,” I said. Jackson furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry. Inappropriate joke.”

  He smirked and walked over to the window.

  He pushed it open and crawled out on the ledge.

  “Where are you going?” I stuck my head through the window and Jackson sat on the roof overlooking the back of the frat house.

  I sat on the windowsill, swung my legs out, and scooted next to him.

  “This is so cool,” I said.

  “I loved coming out here. Especially when we threw a party. You could feel the music vibrating through the roof.”

  “How many girls have you brought out here?” I nudged him, and his real smile almost returned.

  “I reserved this spot for only the special girls.”

  “So, how many?”

  “Counting you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “One.”

  “Jackson.”

  “That night … at the party, I was going to lure you into my room that night, and when you thought I was like every other guy wanting to get you in my bed, I was going to bring you out here to look at the stars. And I was going to kiss you and you would be so blown away—”

  “I would have slept with you anyway.”

  “Yeah, something like that.” He smiled but turned his head away.

  “Hey, Jackson.”

  “Yeah.”

  I placed my hand on his cheek and leaned in. I licked my lips before they touched his. They were so warm, and it sent a wave of energy through my body. I ran my hand down to his neck to pull him closer. I felt his arm wrap around my waist, and he pressed his lips firmly to mine. We separate and I inhaled, which drew him closer. His open mouth landed back on mine. His tongue licked my bottom lip and entered my mouth, and my tongue couldn’t wait for contact.

  When they touched, I forgot we were sitting on the roof and I lifted up to get closer to him, I slipped. “Whoa.”

  He caught me around the waist and lifted me back up to sit on his lap.

  “I got you.”

  I giggled as I wrapped my arms around his neck and we made out on the rooftop like normal college students.

  God, it feels good to pretend to be normal.

  ***

  Jackson Latre Mitchell

  The pitch on the roof wasn’t that steep, but the metaphor wasn’t lost on me. She wasn’t about to go over the edge to her death, but I wasn’t about to let her slip away from me. Not this time.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and settled into my arms. I held her close to my chest and turned her face up to mine. I pushed her hair off her face and leaned over and kissed her cheek and her nose and her other cheek. Her lips curled into a smile, and I couldn’t resist, I had to kiss those beautiful lips.

  Carrington’s lips asked to be kissed. They were soft and smooth and defined with no assistance. I only ever saw her wear lip-gloss. These lips were created for me. Her body was made for me. She responded to my every touch. When my lips found hers, her heart raced. It thumped against my chest. Her arms tensed around my neck, she sighed, and I pulled her closer.

  My hand went from rubbing her cheek to sliding down her neck. It rested on her chest; it had found its home. My other hand worked its way down her back and around her waist. They had an agenda, and I had no control over them. They touched and felt every place they had access to and would have been more daring if we weren’t perched on top of the roof.

  My lips were a bit more cautious, kissing her soft at first and them firm, taking her lead. I wanted her to react to me and let me know how comfortable she was with what we were doing and how fast we were going.

  When we were together before, it was as mutual of a hook up as I had ever had. We both knew what we wanted, and we worked together to get what we needed from each other, but so much had changed and the stakes were so much lower back then. It was so long ago, yet I remembered every moment of it.

  My mind slipped back into the past, and I stopped kissing her.

  “Hey. You still with me?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Am I boring you?” She leaned back and narrowed her eyes. I leaned in and kissed her below her cute ear before I pressed myself into her.

  “Do I feel like I’m bored?”

  She leaned in further, and I moaned. She smiled and released the pressure a bit. I felt her hip against me, and I liked the way it felt.

  “No, you don’t, but why is this so much harder than before?”

  I blinked and shifted her off my lap. She scooted back next to me and crossed her legs, staring out into the backyard. She read my mind; I hated what I was thinking and feeling.

  “I’m happy it’s not just me,” I said.

  “Not just you. We can’t pretend like we did before.”

  Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and she leaned over and rested them on her knees. I scooted closer to her so our hips touched. I leaned over, kissed her shoulder, and wrapped my arm around her waist. She sighed.

  “Because we want it so bad,” I said.

  “You really want to be with me?” Carrington said.

  “Of course, why would you ask that?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t fault you at all for being with Tiffany. You had no idea I was coming here. But even if you did know, you’re leaving in a couple months, and it will be like it was before.”

  “Yeah, except for everything is completely different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Because I’ll have at least four months to realize being with you is beyond anything I could make up in my head.”

  “You make up stuff about us in your head.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m all about visualization.”

  “You saw us together?”

  “I see us together, in the future and forever.”

  “Jackson.” She leaned over and kissed me, but when she pulled back, her face wore a frown. Every moment we gained an inch, seconds later, it seemed we jumped a foot back. “I want to be with you, too. I do, but I don’t want to distract you, either.”

  “How could you be a distraction, besides the fact you are so hot?”

  I wanted her close to me, not doubting our relationship. She was pushing me away.

  “Stop. I need to say this.” The serious look on her face scared me a little. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear her reasons. Carrington had turned into a mature woman who didn’t give into rash decisions. She didn’t have that luxury anymore.

  “It’s not me I’m talking about. I have Jack to consider. I love that you have been a part of his life, but he’s not your obligation and not your responsibility.”

  “Carr—”

  “You are months away from the draft and your first year in the NFL, which needs your one hundred percent focus, and I know you, Jackson. You will try to do both and you can’t. This is your dream—your goal since you were a kid. You’re so close, I don’t want you to take your eye off the ball, so to speak.”

  I stared at her for a moment, but I couldn’t tell if she was being selfless because she didn’t want me to think of her as a burden, or she was saying this stuff because deep down, she wasn’t ready. Or worse, she didn’t want me at all.

  I didn’t believe the latter, but option one and two didn’t sit with me well, either. I needed her to understand my intentions when it came to how I felt about her.

  “Carrington, I love you.”

  There was a long pause before she spoke.

  “What?” Her eyes grew wide and teared up as she searched my face.

  I laughed. Not the reaction I was hoping for, but it made her guard fall enough for me to see what I needed. She was scared, because she didn’t want to lose me.

  This I can work with.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  “I love you,” Jackson said it, again.

  I stared back at him with my mouth open. I looked back across the backyard, and he reached out and pulled my face back to him.

  He wasn’t going to let his proclamation go unanswered. He studied me and his facial expression relaxed. He leaned over and kissed my lips so soft and sweet, a sound escaped from the back of my throat. Something between a puppy dog whimper and a stifled sob. He stopped kissing me, but our faces remained centimeters apart, and I saw his mouth curl into a satisfied smile.

  “Come on. It’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.”

  We climbed back into the window and into Jackson’s old room. I followed, down the steps, and out of the fraternity house. Our little excursion down memory lane ended in a bust. The house didn’t affect me liked I had hoped. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I thought it would give me closure or maybe an opportunity to reflect on how far I had come from that night. I half expected to fall back into one of my flashback blackouts, but nothing. I didn’t recognize the place; it had changed so much.

  Jackson and I had entered new territory and the situation was more complicated than before.

  Jackson told me he loved me, and it was the most sincere and precious thing anyone had ever said to me. He sealed it with a kiss that made me feel everything he was feeling. Any woman would love to have this beautiful and amazing man profess his love for them, yet I couldn’t enjoy it. Loving me wasn’t in Jackson’s best interest at this time because loving me wasn’t easy. And he needed easy.

  We walked back to campus in silence, holding hands and swinging them back and forth. I stared up at Jackson. The moon hit his strong jaw, and he had a look of pure contentment on his face. He walked with a steady and strong gait, and I had to take longer steps to keep up. We stopped at a street corner waiting for the traffic to clear, and he smirked and laughed.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “You and your expressions.” He kissed my forehead and pulled me across the street.

  “What do you mean, my expressions?”

  “You’ve gone from scared to confused to curious, all in three blocks.”

  “What makes you think you can read me so well?”

  “I am completely in tune to what you’re thinking and feeling.”

  I stopped. Jackson took two steps and jerked around.

  “How do you know what I think when I don’t even know myself?” I released his hands and put mine in my pocket. I shivered from the chill in the air. Jackson pulled me into his arms, and I laid my head on his chest but kept my hands in my pockets and concentrated on not crying.

  “Carrington Olivia Butler. What’s the point of fighting against what you already know you really want? It seems like the easy thing to do is give in and see what happens.”

  “And what if what happens leaves me feeling empty, scared, and alone. I’ve done that before. Not fun.”

  “Why do you assume the worst?”

  “Because that’s how it always ends,” I whisper.

  Jackson stepped back and placed his arms on my shoulder. I lifted my head to meet his gaze.

  “You really think I’m going to hurt you.”

  “No, of course not.” I removed my hands from my pockets and placed them on his arms. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

  Jackson pulled me into his arms and squeezed me tight. I melted into the warmth of his body, and my chill went away. I relaxed against him, felt his arms around me, and held on to the possibility that this was supposed to happen. That Jackson and I had a chance.

  I liked the idea. A small warmth in my core simmered and spread out from there. I clung to the feeling and willed it to reach my mind. I knew it had captured my heart. It didn’t make it any less scary, but fighting it seemed an impossible task.

  “Let me take you home,” Jackson said as he rubbed my arms. He placed an arm over my shoulder and guided me toward my house. Kayla and Jack were at my house, and I wasn’t ready for this night to end. The feeling was there, but I needed something else, another level of connection to match my resolve.