Girl Abroad

THE HOUSE FEELS TOO SMALL WHEN JACK AND I AREN’T SPEAKING. Navigating becomes treacherous, especially when neither of us want Lee or Jamie to pick up on the tension. I come down from my room later that afternoon to rummage for lunch, careful to poke my head around the corner to check the kitchen is clear before I enter. All I see is Jamie sitting at the counter with a sandwich. I’m spreading mustard on bread when Jack strides in, then halts. He stands there, indecisive, for so long that Jamie looks up from his phone.

“All right, mate?”

“Huh?”

“You need something?”

“No, uh…” Jack glances around, then strides back out. “Forgot what I was looking for.”

I pile turkey on my sandwich and nurture the stab of hurt that feeds my anger. For the life of me, I can’t see where Jack gets off pinning any of this on me. I was just here, minding my own business, when he got it in his head to kiss me that first time. I don’t accept responsibility for the consequences of his regrets, and it’s unfair to lay them at my feet. I refuse to entertain his tantrums. For fuck’s sake, I’m the youngest one in the house.

“Weird one, that Jackie,” Jamie says. “He seem strange to you lately?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” I lie.

The path of least resistance is to stay in my room and avoid awkward confrontations altogether. So for the rest of the day, I busy myself with homework and scrutinizing the documents Ben left me. It does little to plug the drain of energy and emotion that saps me as the day wears on. When I can’t stand these four walls anymore, I take a walk to a café a couple blocks over to grab a quick bite for dinner.

Venturing through the neighborhood alone, exploring, has become one of my favorite activities since moving here. I’ve grown adept at writing internal storylines for myself, imagining new personas and narrating the lives of people I observe. Today’s the first time I’ve felt lonely while doing it.

Nate texts as I’m about to get in the shower, sending me a picture of his hotel room with the caption: Wish you were here with me. Naked, of course.

Of course, I type back, then set the phone down on the vanity, grinning to myself as I step under the hot spray.

After a long shower, I wipe the steam off the mirror and study my flushed, naked body, wondering what it is that Nate sees.

Everything about me feels average. Average weight, height, boob size, face. My best feature is probably my hair—it’s long and thick, a dark shade of red that Eliza always says reminds her of autumn at night. I guess I don’t mind my lips either. They’re naturally red and fuller than most.

But I’m not a supermodel. I shouldn’t have lords trying to kiss me. I shouldn’t have Nate constantly aching for me. Hot Jacks kissing me left and right.

It sounds like I’m standing around admiring myself naked and humblebragging, but I’m genuinely bothered as I study my reflection. This is my first foray out in the wild, away from my father. I’m not experienced. I’m not worldly like Celeste or confident like Yvonne. I wish I knew how people viewed me but at the same time know I shouldn’t care.

I head to my bedroom, where I dress and then get cozy under a blanket with my boat disaster book. After a few chapters, I put myself to bed early.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been lying in the dark with my eyes open when I hear a soft knock at my door. I know it’s Jack, because I heard Lee and Jamie leaving for the pub.

“Yeah?”

A splinter of light from the hallway moves across my wall.

“Hey, sorry.” A shirtless Jack wearing only his pajama pants pokes his head in. “I didn’t realize you were asleep.”

Bitterness stings my cheeks. “I’m not.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“I can leave.”

“It’s fine.”

“Can we have a chat?”

Whether it’s the regretful pitch of his voice or the exhaustion of keeping up the silent treatment, I don’t have it in me to send him off. I’m too tired to fight him anymore.

“Come in,” I tell him.

He’s hesitant as he enters. Then he stands in the middle of the room waiting on me to decide how we do this. The room’s got a chill to it because Lee is militant about the boiler temperature, so I don’t particularly want to get out of my warm bed. Finally, I scoot to one side and pat the space beside me.

Jack takes up most of the bed, the mattress dipping toward him. Other than the diffused moonlight that slants across the floor, the room is black. We both lie on our backs, me under the covers, him on top of them. I pick at the buttons of the duvet cover, waiting for him to speak and listening to the soft groans and various ticks the house makes when we’re still.

“I wanted to apologize,” he finally says. “I’ve been, ah, avoiding you.”

“Oh my God, really?”

“I take it you’ve noticed.” Jack pauses. “You do my head in, if I’m honest,” he confesses with a smile in his voice.

“Don’t even start.”

“What I mean is I don’t think my mind’s been right since you got here.”

“Sure it hasn’t been longer than that?” I’m only half joking. Jack’s been a confounding enigma from the start. If there’s any rhyme or reason in his behavior, that math is beyond me.

He nudges me with his elbow. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Right, okay. Serious.” He can’t see me, but I put on a stern face. “Okay, go.”

“I’ve had a thing for you since the day we met.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Abbey.”

“Just checking.”

He exhales loudly. “I deserve that.”

Yes. He does.

“I mean it, though. I wanted you the moment I met you.”

“You mean the moment you found me in the kitchen my first morning here, looking like a deer in headlights?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “You didn’t feel it?”

I bite my lip. Because I did feel it. The attraction was there from the get-go. Potent. Alive. It was the same way with Nate.

“I felt it.” I still do, I almost confess. “But I’m not playing these games with you anymore.”

“I’m not trying to play games, Abbs. Thing is I’m not good at this. I know how to get women into bed. I know how to fuck them.”

“No, you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

He coughs out a sharp laugh. “I mean, it’s all the other stuff. The intimacy part. Talking about feelings and the— ”

“Serious stuff.”

“Right. I’m shit at that part. Nothing comes out right.” He throws his arms behind his head. “Guess it scares me a little too. Caring enough to mess it up. I don’t know how to open up to people like that. I’m not quite sure how else to explain it.”

“I think I understand.”

I’ve seen how dejected he gets watching his favorite teams lose a rugby match on TV. How he spends half the game pacing the kitchen because he wants to know what’s happening but can’t bear to witness it. Too invested in the outcome. It makes him anxious.

“We’re all afraid of getting hurt,” I add. “Of not being good enough. If this stuff were easy, there wouldn’t be reality dating shows, right?”

“True,” he says, rolling over to face me.

This kind of vulnerability from Jack does a lot to break down the wall of hostility that’s built up between us. It’s hard to hold a grudge when he’s enduring such obvious discomfort to let me understand him better. A little effort goes a long way with me. I don’t expect perfection, just honesty. In fact, far above abs, good hair, and nice eyes, it’s the most attractive quality in a guy. Someone who knows who he is and is honest with himself and me. It’s something I could work on too, if I’m being fair.

“I’m jealous, all right?” Jack suddenly says, his features straining. He sounds tortured. “The idea of him touching you…fucking you… it’s making me bloody mental.”

My pulse takes off. “Oh.”

“I meant what I said when I took you driving—I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” He curses under his breath. “But I also can’t keep pretending I’m all right with just friendship. That I don’t want more.”

I suck in a breath. “Do you? Want more?”

After a long moment, he nods.

“Oh. Okay. Wow.”

I never thought I’d ever hear these words from Jack. He’s been so skilled at keeping me at an emotional distance that now that he’s baring his soul to me, my brain can’t quite comprehend it.

“So where does that leave us?” he asks.

I see only the vague outline of his face, though I feel the warmth of his body beside mine. The instinct to be closer to him, to touch him, tugs at me.

“Well, I don’t think we’re fighting anymore,” I say.

“Should I let you go back to sleep?” His voice is husky.

My heart beats even faster. “I’ll never be able to fall asleep now.”

“Should I stay then?”

The darkness makes me bold. I reach out for him, lightly stroking the stubble along his jaw. “Yes. If you want to.”

“I want to.”

There’s a moment of silent deliberation between us. So loud it makes my ears ring. I want him to kiss me. I would take the lead, but I’m afraid he’ll push me away again.

Then Jack lifts the side of the duvet and slides beneath it. He takes hold of my waist and pulls me closer.

“We’ll get this right eventually,” he says gruffly.

I’m not sure which part he’s referring to until his hand slides down to cup the back of my knee and hitch my leg over his hip. He threads his fingers through my hair, bringing my face closer. His nose grazes mine. Then his forehead. Searching for each other in the shadows, until finally our lips touch. The gentle warmth seeps through my limbs and burns in my blood, his tongue coaxing me to forget any lingering apprehensions.

Consequences are for daylight.

The kiss is gentle at first. Tentative. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. I grab the back of his neck, softly dragging my nails over him. Jack skims his hand up my thigh and palms my ass, pressing me against him. I feel his erection between my legs. The sensation spurs a rush of unchecked desire, urging me to grind against him, which elicits a muffled groan that tickles my lips. His fingers bite into my flesh.

“Want you so damn bad,” he whispers before burying his face in my neck, kissing my heated flesh. His lips leave flames of need in their wake. I’m on fire.

“Touch me,” I whisper back, hearing the pleading note in my voice. I’m desperate to feel more of him, to ease this ache that’s stalked me for months.

Jack slips a hand under my T-shirt to squeeze my breast and run his thumb over my nipple. My teeth scrape his bottom lip as we kiss again. His hands are big and rough and make me feel delicate, almost breakable, under their exploration. His muscles tug and tighten as I trace their lines, wanting to know more of him.

He pushes my shirt up, and I sit so he can pull it over my head. Instantly, he fills both palms with my breasts and hums in approval.

“They’re perfect,” he says solemnly. “Even the much bigger one.”

A laugh chokes out. “Asshole.”

With a laugh, he squeezes gently, his thumbs sweeping over my nipples. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Your tits are bloody mind-blowing. Perfection.”

Then he lowers his mouth to one breast and sucks the peaked tip, eliciting a jolt of pleasure that sizzles from my nipple to my clit. God, he’s good at that. His palm travels my stomach, my ribs, setting every nerve humming, until he slides his fingers between my thighs.

“I want to make you come,” he says, his voice thick.

My answer is a soft sigh that transforms into a choked moan when Jack’s hand dips inside my underwear. A shudder travels down my spine at the sweet sensation of him cupping my core, then swiping his thumb over my clit. He massages me for a moment before penetrating me with first one, then a second finger.

“Perfect,” he whispers again, and I see his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Knew you’d feel like this.”

I bite my lip. “Like what?”

“Tight.” He withdraws both fingers. “Soft.” He pushes them back in, making me gasp. “Wet.”

He’s driving me wild. I lie on my back with Jack hovering above me, kissing my lips, my neck, licking at my exposed breasts while he fingers me. I hold my breath and cling to his shoulders to ground myself.

Teetering on the edge of collapse, I writhe against his hand. He feels so good, but I’m greedy. I need more. His dick is hard against my thigh, and it’s…large. I knew he’d be big, but the proof of it, that long, thick ridge, makes my core throb. I want him inside me.

When I reach to pull down his pants, he stops my hand. I search for his eyes in the dark, but instead of an answer, I feel him remove his hand and pull me half on top of him.

Jack’s the one on his back now, gently tugging my body up until I feel his stiff erection flush with my core. He guides my hips, thrusting up against me. The fact that we’re still clothed is both torturous and exhilarating. He could strip me down if he wanted to, but he’s choosing to tease us, to take it slow.

The friction is intense. It continues to stoke the building tension. Jack’s breathing becomes haggard as I slide back and forth, reaching for relief, feeling him throb beneath me. His fingers dig into my hips. His face is buried at my neck, tongue tasting my overheated skin.

“I’m almost there.” My voice comes out in a breathy desperate rush as I lose my rhythm and my muscles tighten.

“Really?” I hear the satisfied smile in his voice. “That was fast.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, just didn’t realize I was this good.”

“Cocky jerk.”

I lightly punch him on the shoulder, but he retaliates by thrusting upward so his dick grinds my clit. I gasp with pleasure.

“Oh my God. More,” I beg.

Chuckling, he flips me on my back and positions himself between my legs, covering my body. We kiss, our tongues tangling, as he brings me to orgasm. Panting and sated.

“Ah fuck,” he suddenly chokes out. His hips move faster, and now I feel him shaking against me. “I’m gonna come.”

He sounds almost startled by that, and even as the aftershocks of orgasm continue to tremble through me, I wrap my legs around his waist to keep our lower bodies locked.

Jack groans as he finds release, his face in the crook of my neck, his broad body shuddering for several moments before going still.

We lie there, catching our breath. My heart is pounding.

“That hasn’t happened to me since I was fourteen years old,” Jack says with a weak laugh. He doesn’t sound embarrassed, though. Only sated.

“You must really like me then.”

It’s meant as a joke, but his response is emphatic, loaded with intensity. “I think I do.”

He kisses my cheek, my temple. Draws his fingers across my forehead to brush away the sweaty strands. He tells me he’ll be right back and leaves to clean himself up, then tiptoes in minutes later to slip back under the covers and pull me into his embrace.

As his muscular arms wrap around me, the implications of what we’ve done rush through my brain. What does tonight represent for us? With our recent history, I’m not about to assume his intentions.

And what do I do about Nate now? After our first time, Nate went out of his way to make sure I knew we weren’t officially together. And since I’d place us firmly in the situationship category, I feel only the barest amount of guilt as I lie here in Jack’s arms. It’s mostly confusion, not guilt, that’s muddling my brain.

“So what now?” he asks as if reading my mind.

“I’m not sure,” I say softly. “But what I do know is you can’t shut down anymore whenever it starts to feel serious or overwhelming or uncomfortable. We’re friends first, right?”

“Right.”

“That means you have to make an effort to talk to me.” I twist my head to offer a teasing smile. “Use your words, okay?”

“I will,” he promises.

“Good. Now, what about me?”

“What about you?”

“It’s a two-way street. What can I do better? Other than not forgetting to do the dishes and the shopping.”

Jack chuckles. “There’s nothing to do better. I like everything about you.”

“Come on. Pick a complaint. Give me something to work on.”

He pauses. “I don’t know… Patience, maybe?”

As someone capable of sitting in a library for eight hours straight without so much as a pee break, I think patience is a skill I’ve nearly mastered. But I wait for him to elaborate.

“Don’t write me off if I can’t say the right thing at the right moment. I won’t shut down, but give me more than five seconds to collect my thoughts, ay?”

“Deal.”

“Anything else we need to discuss?” Jack teases.

“Yes, actually.” As awkward as it is, I force myself to bring it up. “I’m not going to stop seeing Nate.”

He pauses again, then says, “Okay.”

“Really?”

“I’ve pushed you away too many times. Of course you don’t trust me yet. You don’t trust this.” He tightens his arms around me. “Reckon I’ve my work cut out for me. I’m up to task, though.”

I smile in the darkness. I think I like this new, candid Jack.

A lot.