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CHAPTER 6
‘Knocking my wind, taking my breath then dying to breathe
You’re the drug I’m fiending for
You’re the cut I’m bleeding for’
F U till I F U – Call Me Karizma, Cass
Jamie
Jake parks on the street by my house and we walk together to my front door.
“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” I say, even if I love that he did and can’t stop the smile that warmly spreads across my face.
“I’m coming in, making sure there’s no bad surprise in there.”
I can’t believe I had sex with Jake. Three times. He woke me up in the middle of the night and made sure to have another round before I left his house. I have this feeling of being utterly fulfilled and happy, yet, as soon as he walks past my front door his demeanor changes and I fear the bliss isn’t going to last.
It might be because I know it’s not like him to get in touch after sleeping with a girl. Jake’s reputation has always preceded him. A couple of months ago he didn’t even know who I was, whereas I’ve always known of Jake White before knowing him. And what I knew was that he was the king of our school, he had Camila and many other subjects to keep him company. What I knew was that if he wanted a girl, he could have her and he never went back for seconds. Only Camila ever had that chance.
I’m not Camila. I don’t have her beauty, I don’t have her curves. I don’t take care of myself like she does, not of my hair or my skin. I don’t hide my pimples when they come out, I don’t whip out a pocket mirror after eating bolognese and I buy my clothes at the charity shop. I don’t have her money or her status. I don’t have her naïve, superficial happiness that so many privileged people get to live with.
Maybe that’s why I’ve got this anxious feeling deep down. I know I’m not special. I’m not ugly and there are many things I like about myself – my brains, my skin complexion, my gorgeous eyes thanks to my mom, my thick hair – but I’m petite, shapeless, almost kid-like. I skipped the glow up and went straight to bags under my eyes from nights worrying about our financial situation or having nightmares about my dad and my brother. Camila has the confidence that puts her above other girls. She’s got that blue blood running through her veins; she and Jake are royalty. I’m not her and I have nothing that could keep Jake. Nothing.
I don’t regret my first time being with him, it was the best I could have hoped for. He’s experienced and knows how to drive my body to pure bliss. I just wish…maybe I just wish we had gotten to know each other more outside of our cat and mouse game. Maybe that way he would know I’m worth keeping, I’m worth coming back to.
Gosh, can you hear yourself? You need space from this guy, you sound like a pathetic fangirl. Get a grip.
He walks in after me and we go around my house together. It’s insane, I remember doing this on my own when I would be scared he was following me. After all, he did break into my house while I was inside.
I’m feeling dizzy from all this back and forth thinking, from everything that happened yesterday and the angst making me feel like I’m stuck in quicksand. I feel dirty and sticky from last night and I’m uncomfortable in my clothes, a bit too hot from the stress.
We walk back into the living area and I settle against the kitchen bar, letting him go around my tiny living room one more time. He comes to a stop in front of me, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pinched together, but he says nothing. So I fill in the blank.
“I should probably call my mom and all that. Do my homework for tomorrow. We’ve got a paper to hand in for English. I haven’t even started.”
He drags the heavy silence I leave after my slightly panicked pace of words. I can’t get myself to look at him, my gaze hopping between imaginary points behind him. I still feel like this scaredy-cat around him. We had sex, what now? He got what he wanted. Why do I still feel like a trapped mouse? I still feel at his mercy. It might not be the fear of bullying anymore, it might not be the fear of giving in, but it’s been replaced with that anxiety of having been taken for a fool. Have I? Did I lose our game?
A Cheshire grin spreads on his lips. That same smile that shows he loves watching me squirm, that he’s about to play with his little mouse.
“Why so fidgety, Angel? What’s on your mind?” he gloats, proud of how he’s making me feel.
“I’m not fidgety.”
“You’re like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.”
I’m about to debate but my mouth clamps shut when he raises an eyebrow. I take a deep breath before throwing myself into the difficult topic.
“So, what now?” I spill. “Wh-what’s going to happen next?”
The smile turns into a slight pull at the corner of his lips as he pretends to take a serious thinking face. He cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Come on,” I sigh. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Say what?”
I pinch my lips and make sure I glare at him before continuing. “What are we?” I huff.
