The beauty of chapters: I thought he was the one

Chapter 21

(Saturday)

With my backpack strapped on my right shoulder, I knocked on the door and waited. But to my surprise instead of Michael opening it, it was Jackson. In a simple black shirt that clung onto the right parts of his muscles, messy hair that fell just inches above his shoulders, he granted me his signature friendly smile.

"Hey." He left the door open for me as he walked back into the room. Soft music whistled through the speaker on the table.

"Hi. Where's Michael?" I asked once realising we were the only ones there.

"He went to run an errand. He'll be back soon. Make yourself at home."

I did, sitting in the spot I usually sat in. Jackson and I hadn't spoken nor seen each other since our last class a couple of days ago where he complimented me. I didn't think much of it other than him being nice. But somehow as I sat there, there was a tiny surge of nervousness coursing through my bloodstreams, reminding me of the note and what he said before I got out of his car.

"I'm gonna get something to drink, do you want anything?"

I shook my head and he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the soft sound of Arctic Monkey singing I wanna be yours.

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust
I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I will never rust"

"If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot
You call the shots, babe
I just wanna be yours"

He didn't take long in the kitchen, walking out in just a minute with a glass of water, and stopped right in front of me with his hand held out. I stared up at him confused.

"Dance with me." He smiled. It was only now I realised that I had been swaying to the music and singing along to the lyrics.

"Uh, no." I started, looking for all the excuses why that wouldn't be a good idea which he wanted to hear none of. He placed the glass of water on the table and took my hand, leading us to the widest space in the room which was near the entrance, right in front of the door.

With one hand intertwined with mine, he placed the other on my waist, firmly holding it into place like his hand belonged there as he pulled me closer, only a few inches stood between us so we could freely move.

In that moment I knew that I couldn't find an excuse cuz I didn't want there to be one.

The delicate scent of his - not overwhelming strong - cologne danced in the air between us, wrapping us in a bubble that he controlled as we slowly swayed to the beat of the music.

Naturally we both fell quiet, allowing the music to do the talking and with that came the relation with the powerful meaning of the words.

I wanna be yours.

The words repeated in my mind just like in the song. Every other thought was gone and all there was, was the physical tension pulling us closer like a surge of electricity going from one end to the other.

Strangely, I wanted to be his and by the looks of it he wanted it to.

His hand got firmer on my waist, the space between us got smaller as the usual beating of my heart shifted to the one in our last class, the one that made me nervous but left me wanting more. I wanted more of him, to be closer to him, to feel every inch of his body and like he read my mind, the hand that was holding mine reached up to his shoulder, shifting my hand so it'll press palm down between crick of his neck and shoulder. He glided it down to his chest, making me feel the rough, hard edges of his muscles poking underneath his shirt to the pounding of his beating heart.