30
jasper
Cade: Do you want to come over for a delicious home-cooked meal tonight? I would love to see you.
Jasper: Why are you talking so weird?
Cade: Like what?
Jasper: It doesn’t matter. I’ll ask Sloane.
Cade: Are they still hitting each other?
Jasper: Jesus, Willa. Give Cade his phone back.
-No. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Sloane from the driver’s seat of my Volvo.
-Yeah. Lift your chin.
“I’m not going to stay in the fucking car like a little kid, Sloane.
“Listen, you have to deal with your shit. I have to be the one who takes care of mine.
I groan and run a hand over my face.
“You’re making me sound like some kind of domineering jerk.
“If the shoe fits,” he says and purses his lips, shrugging his shoulders a little.
I tilt my head back.
“I just want you to be safe.” I don’t like Woodcock. I dont trust him.
“He’s probably not even home.” She looks out the passenger window at the tall glass building over her shoulder. It’s mid-afternoon and he’s a workaholic.
-What if he is?
“And if he is, then that’s a conversation I’ll have with him.” I don’t need you standing there snorting like an angry bull behind me.
“I’ll wait outside,” I concede.
-Outside the building?
-No. “I unbuckle my seat belt and go around the vehicle to open its door.” I will be at the door of your unit.
When I look at the car, Sloane sighs. But I see his lips twitch. He would never forgive me if I laid a hand on him, and I don’t trust that bastard one bit.
“Fine,” he huffs, taking my hand as he leaves.
Without letting go of his hand, I open the back door and take out the cardboard box we brought. We entered the luxurious building and headed straight to the elevator. As the doors close, I see us on the mirrored wall of the small space and read Sloane’s body language. The way he’s slumped next to me, the way his long bangs cover his face, the way his teeth repeatedly graze his bottom lip.
The woman can dance on stage in front of thousands of people with all the confidence in the world, but this makes her nervous. These people who were supposed to care about her who were supposed to love her have brought her down.
They make her feel insecure. And I hate them for it.
I give him a reassuring pulse with my hand and he lifts his head. He looks at me in the mirror.
“Hello, Jas,” he whispers.
“Come here, Sunny. “I gently pull her toward me, turning her toward my chest, where I can feel her breath on my shirt, feel her heartbeat against my ribs.
It almost doesn’t seem real how we have slipped so easily into this new relationship. It seems like we’ve been together the whole time, and I guess that’s true in a way.
“I’ll feel better once I get all my things out.”
“You should let me…
“Jasper, stop.” I need to do this for myself. Reclaim my life for myself. You’ve got the hallway, take care of it.
I squeeze his head again, resting my cheek on his hair. I look at ourselves in the mirror again.
Her bright blonde, my warm brown, her porcelain skin, mine more tanned. The way it fits me and complements me. It doesn’t seem like it could be a coincidence.
It seems like something much bigger than us.
“You’re going to see me taking off those jeans and eating your pussy in this elevator on the way down,” I murmur against her head.
He laughs as he rolls his forehead across the dark gray t-shirt that stretches across my chest.
“Sometimes you’re such a caveman.”
He tenses when the elevator dings and slowly stops on the thirty-first floor. The doors open and reveal a small hallway. There are no more doors, just the big, elegant one in front of us.
In the top corner is a security camera, its red light flashing in defiance.
I throw the box toward the grand entrance and grab Sloane’s head, pushing it against the wall, crushing my mouth against hers.
The first noise he makes sounds like surprise, the second is a moan. Her hands run up my chest and graze with her nails when she lowers them again. His lips soften and my grip relaxes his jaw.
I have never been able to scare her. He is relentless and loyal. No matter how many people leave me, she never does.
It doesn’t matter what I say or what I do, what I like. She gets up to meet me. She turns to putty in my hands as I kiss her senseless before sending her to the penthouse she shared with her ex just a few weeks ago.
I’ve been out here for thirty minutes, too tense to look at my phone. Instead, I listen at the door like a creep, trying to figure out if I’m hearing voices or not. I hear shuffling feet, possibly even humming noises, coming from the unit.
I suppose if Woodcock were there, he would hear a lot of complaining and moaning.
Avoiding breaking in there is a Herculean feat. And it’s not even jealousy, or concern for her safety, because I’m almost sure she’s alone.
It’s just that I’m realizing that I don’t like being away from her at all. I don’t know if it’s the need to make up for lost time, or if I’m just being a clingy bastard, but I’d rather be in there helping her pack her things than out here mulling over every little particle of my life.
And yours.
I hear the pull of the doorknob and his small figure walks out the door. It’s fighting the weight of the case and still manages to look lighter.
-Hello. -His voice is bright, a little breathy.
I rush over to her, take the box from her arms and give her a quick kiss on the lips, feeling desperate for her. Relieved. I want to take her back to the bubble where the two of us were alone on the road.
Yes, everything in our personal lives was shit at the time. But it was us, alone. Without all these other things to deal with.
-All good? -Asked.
-Yeah.