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He grins. “Easton’s what?” he demands.
“I’m Easton McKnight’s girlfriend.” I heavily pant.
“Fuck yeah, you are. Now you can come.” He releases my hands, gripping my hips, pounding into me harder until I see stars.
That was months ago. Summer has long gone, and winter is in full swing. We are at our families’ cabins. New Year’s is two days away and we are currently having a family dinner. As in, all the families are here. It is weird not sitting next to Easton, but our spots at the table were chosen long ago. And my spot is next to Monroe.
I’m laughing with my mom when my phone buzzes.
Easton: Switch spots with Ezra.
Jasmine: Can’t. Spots are set in stone, and someone just had to sit as far away from me as possible.
Easton: You’ll pay for that comment.
I lean back in my chair and meet Easton’s gaze. He has a dark twinkle in his eye that makes my body shiver.
“No phones at the table, Jazzy, you know the rules.” Monroe smirks at me as every single parent turns toward me, frowning.
It is a rule, and I didn’t usually break it. The parents waited as I handed my phone over to my dad. “Man, that boyfriend of yours is rubbing off on you. Might have to have a talk with him.” My dad gives me his best disappointed look, but his lip twitches with a smile.
“Maybe you should just ground me. So I can’t see said boyfriend anymore,” I sass back, and I hear Easton’s low growl at the end of the table.
My dad rubs his neck. “I don’t know how to ground you… You’ve never been in trouble. What? Like, no TV before bed or something?” Everyone laughs and my dad tucks my phone under the table, giving it back.
I realize I’ve been far too easy on my parents. I have made them soft. Can’t even take my phone away for a solid minute. The chatter continues and I am almost one hundred percent sure Nixon is fingering Monroe under the table. Payback. “Nixon, you should really keep your hands to yourself. That’s not appropriate dinner behavior.” I bite into my chicken, shaking my head at them. Both their mouths drop open in shock.
“Hands on the table and off my daughter, Masterson,” Brylan grits out.
“Touché, little Jazzy,” Monroe whispers as Nixon places both of his hands on the table like a toddler.
Dinner finishes up and I help the moms with the dishes. We usually have someone do it for us, but they are feeling generous. Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I toss it down, walking out the door and down to my cabin. I change from my nice clothes into my off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved shirt and fuzzy leggings. Walking to the balcony, I take a seat on my stool. Sunrise falls over the snow-covered mountains as I start working on my portrait of Easton. I haven’t worked on it since he made me sketch it. It’s much like the very first one I had done, except in this one he is grinning instead of frowning. His eyes are lighter than the first. I spend several hours painting until it is time to go stay at the Mastersons’ cabin for “children bonding,” as the parents call it.
EASTON
The party is in full swing. Leslie is laid across Everett and Wyatt, looking like a queen on a man's throne. Their dynamic is a little strange for me, but I’ve never seen anyone tame Everett’s beast like those two do. I am happy for him. Like my sister, he is a hard one to love. Demons darker than the depths of the ocean. Unlike my sister, he was born that way, not taught. I feel bad for my sister. I should have been doing her job, but since the tender age of two she’s been chasing the rest of us around with my baseball bat as she laughed, showing the most promise.
Monroe is dancing around Nixon as he watches her with hungry eyes. They are so in love it is kind of sickening. They’re relationship is a hard one. Best friends turned enemies, but Nixon has worked hard to make it up to her. It isn’t sunshine and rainbows, far from a fairy tale, but it’s theirs. And Nixon still lives with the regret of his actions. He doesn’t show it much but sometimes I catch him taking longer looks at Monroe with sorrow on his face. He fucked up; he owns that.
Jasmine is sitting next to Ezra, frowning at the shot in her hand. She throws it back then scrunches up her nose, sticking out her tongue. Ezra falls back into the couch, laughing, which in turn makes me laugh. I love seeing my sister and girlfriend become best friends. They have grown close, and Ezra is cock-blocking me every fucking chance she gets. I do mind but, also, I like it because they have each other.
Ezra and Jasmine do several shots until they are both leaning their heads on one another to keep themselves up. They are laughing, and I’m jealous.
I stand up, walk over, and proceed to lift Jasmine up. She wraps her small arms around me, burying her face into my neck. “Hi,” she whispers.
“Well, hello there. Thought you forgot about me,” I say back, taking us upstairs and into my room, locking the door.
I bounce us on the bed, her landing under me, giggling. I want to savor her. The bet will be up when we go back to school, and then my sweet reality will crash. She stares up at me. Her green eyes glazed over with lust and alcohol.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admit, feeling the situation tying a noose around my neck.
“You won’t hurt me.” She is confident. My heart cracks with the words. Oh, how wrong you are. I brush the hair out of her face.
“But I will. And you’ll try to leave me, but I won’t let you. I’ll chase you down and tie you to my bed, begging for forgiveness until you give in. Because I’m selfish, I’ll ask you to forgive me and excuse my behavior.”
She frowns, swatting at my chest. “Shut up and kiss me. I don’t like this conversation.”
And so, I do. My kiss is long and soft, making the ache in my chest worsen when I break away from her, dropping to my knees. She pulls her clothes off, I watch every single sliver of skin exposed in awe. She’s so fucking beautiful.
