Page 15 of Middle Ground
“Come home with me, then. We can order pizza to soakup some of that disgusting wine and then you can crash in Pip’s bed.”
I smile, but it slowly loses its shine until it drops altogether. “You go. I’ll be okay. I pinky promise I won’t drink any more wine.”
I drank more wine.
Never before have I broken a pinky promise. But after Declan finally left, the melancholy sprouted teeth and took a chunk out of my heart. So I decided more wine was in my best interest.
This issonot a good idea.
I should really listen to myself. I’m pretty smart. Usually. But my brain is kind of fuzzy, and I think I’ve fallen right off the weepy scale and into an even more unfamiliar territory. I feel…angry?
“Vaughan!” I shout.Oops. My fist pounds on the door to the room Jackson is staying in tonight. “I know you’re”—hiccup—“in there!”
In hindsight, I should’ve taken Declan up on his gentlemanly offer to walk me home. Instead, I’m standing outside the best room at the inn, waiting for my new sworn enemy to open the door.
Thankfully, this side of the building is otherwise empty. Not that Jackson knows that. Like hell was I going to comp his stay, so he’s paying for our most expensive room while he’s here. Might as well milk that fancy credit card while I can.
I ready my fist to knock again when the door swings inward. Jackson leans against the doorframe, one ankle crossed over the other. The picture of smug relaxation. A lazy, amused grin stretches his lips.
I take this moment to drag my eyes down his form. Drunk Meyer is nothing if not an opportunist. I half pictured him to sleep upside down in his suit like some kind of well-dressed vampire bat, but I’m pleasantly surprised to note the sweatpants slung low on his hips. His white t-shirt certainly doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. His muscles are not of the beefy bodybuilder variety, but they subtly define his stomach and chest. He’s also gotmarvellousbiceps.
His attire and musculature, coupled with his angular jaw and warm honey-coloured eyes, leave me weak in the knees. He’s even got dark brown hair that’s short on the sides and a bit longer on top. Perfect to run your fingers through. Perfect to grab during?—
“Ugh.”
Why does hotness always come with a heaping side ofasshole?
“Did you just come here to check me out, Ellison? Or is there another point to your visit?”
My eyes snap up to his. “I’m notchecking you out! You’re the anemone.Myanemone.”
Jackson steps away from the doorframe and into my space. I tip my chin up, unwilling to break eye contact. This, however, puts my lips entirely too close to his. Too close—because we’reenemies.
Kissing your enemy is bad…right?
Even if maybe his lips look like they would be good at kissing. Even if maybe his hands look like they would fit perfectly against my waist. Even if maybe I would love to know what it would be like to feel his weight settle on top of me—between my thighs.
“Are you drunk?”
I squint as I pinch my thumb and pointer finger together in front of his pretty eyeballs. “Just alittlebit. But drunk words are sober thoughts, buddy, so you best believe that what I’m saying is thetruth.”
“And whatareyou saying? So far all you’ve done is undress me with your eyes and call me youranemone.”
Shit. That’s not the right word.
“I’m saying that this inn is literally all I have going for me, so if you want to get your grubby little mitts onmyshares, you’re gonna have to pry them from my cold, dead hands. Even then, you’ll lose because my ghostwillfight you.”
He regards me like I’m cheap evening entertainment. “Is that all?”
“No, that’snotall, Mr. Interrupter,” I say. I stab his chest with my finger. It’s nice and sturdy—hurts my finger a little. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss. Your grandmother was a hell of a woman and I’m going to miss her a lot.”
For a moment, I think I spot a flicker of something in his eyes. Sorrow? But then it’s gone and his lips quirk upwards. “Most people wouldn’t give their enemy condolences.”
I set my shoulders. “Lucky for you, I’m aniceenemy.”
Now his grin is crooked as it stretches across his lips. “Lucky me.”
My lungs stutter as he continues to look at me. I’ve met my fair share of attractive people. I’ve slept with a few of them. But none have made my breathfalterfrom a single look in my direction.
